Fawn Emery “Wally” Wallis, my 1st cousin 1x removed
52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks
Prompt: Working for a Living
My first exposure to genealogy didn’t come from a book or a class.
It came in 1979, in a letter from my father’s first cousin, Fawn Emery “Wally” Wallis.
He sent my father a family group sheet to complete and return, explaining that he was working on a large Wallis family project. His goal was ambitious: to compile approximately 200 family group sheets as the first phase. In the second phase, he planned to write a full family history and distribute it to family members, as well as to historical societies and libraries across Virginia, Indiana, Ohio, Illinois, Kansas, Arkansas, Missouri, Texas, and California—places connected to our family’s story.
We received some of the group sheets.
But the history never came.
Wally died just two years later, and for years I wondered what had happened to his research. I contacted libraries and historical societies, hoping to find a copy of the Wallis history he had planned. I never did.
Then, decades later, something unexpected happened.
A DNA match appeared on Ancestry—his granddaughter, Beth.
When I reached out, I learned she had the box—his research. Even more surprising, she lived in Overland Park, Kansas, less than two miles from a house I still own there as a rental. On a recent trip to the Kansas City area, I was able to visit her and her family and go through the materials myself.
Inside were binders, carefully organized, along with an index. I even found my place in his system: W1h3c.
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| Wally's daughter, Lou Ann Wallis Stallcup and Libby Wallis Russell looking at Lou Ann's photos. |
I wasn’t just looking at family history.
I was looking at Wally’s unfinished work—the project that had first introduced me to genealogy.
He had approached family history with the same energy he had given to his career. And that career was one worth remembering.
Fawn Emery “Wally” Wallis was named, his mother said, because he was as soft as a newborn fawn. Those who knew him later might have smiled at that description. He was known as direct, even gruff at times, but beneath it was a deep commitment to his work and to the people around him.
He began his newspaper career as an editorial writer for the Stillwater Daily Press, where he appears in the 1940 census. From there, he moved on to positions at the Sapulpa Herald, the Iola Register in Kansas, and the Poteau News in Oklahoma before joining The Daily Oklahoman and the Oklahoma City Times in 1943. Over the next 27 years, he built a reputation as one of the state’s most respected sportswriters.
Before he became known for golf, Wally made his mark covering high school football. Writing under his “Prep Parade” column, he traveled the state evaluating teams and making bold predictions. His picks stirred debate—fans didn’t always appreciate being told their team would lose—but they paid attention. And more often than not, he was right. In one remarkable season, he correctly predicted all three state champions before the playoffs even began.
His work required him to be everywhere, and the paper made sure he could. He was given a bright red automobile to travel the state—an image that perfectly captures the role he played, moving from town to town, watching, evaluating, and writing.
Over time, his focus shifted from football to golf, and it was there that he achieved his greatest recognition. Known as “The Old Pro,” Wally became the state’s foremost golf authority. He won national awards for his writing, including a 1959 honor for the best golf news story of the year covering Charley Coe’s U.S. Amateur victory.
He didn’t just write about golf—he lived it. He traveled internationally, playing courses in England, Scotland, and Ireland, including the legendary St. Andrews. His peers respected him as much as his readers did. He served as president of the Golf Writers' Association of America and was active in professional organizations that shaped sports journalism.
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| Badge from the Golf Writers' Association of America recognizing Wally Wallis as a Past President. |
Those who worked with him remembered a man who loved the press box, the locker room, and the long days that came with the job. He once said he never wrote a story if he thought it might hurt someone—a principle that guided his work. He also believed deeply in young athletes, a perspective that traced back to his early years covering high school sports.
One story captures him perfectly. On a trip to the Masters in Augusta, he insisted on a stop at a grocery store as soon as they arrived—cheese, crackers, and soup for lunch. It was a hot, muggy April day, and it was a practical, unpretentious choice. He enjoyed his bourbon, too—another small detail that reminds us that behind the byline was a man as real as anyone he wrote about.
He retired from full-time work in 1970 but continued writing into the late 1970s. By then, his influence extended beyond journalism. Local professionals credited him with helping grow the game of golf in Oklahoma and even playing a role in bringing major tournaments to Oklahoma City.
When he died in 1981 at the age of 75, he was remembered not only as a sportswriter, but as a figure who had shaped the sports landscape of the state. The Governor of Oklahoma declared a Wally Wallis Day, and a children’s golf tournament was established in his honor—fitting for a man who believed that the future of the game lay with its youngest players.
When I met his daughter Lou Ann and granddaughter Beth, we spread photos and papers across the table, comparing faces and stories. At one point I remarked on the family resemblance—“Oh, he has the Wallis nose.” Lou Ann laughed and said, “And I do too.”
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| Wally Wallis |
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| Ralph Wallis |
F.E. “Wally” Wallis and my father, Ralph—same Wallis nose, same ears, same lips that disappear, same hairstyle, the resemblance is unmistakable.
He spent his life writing about others—about games, players, and champions. Late in life, he turned that same focus to his own family, determined to document the story of the Wallis line.
He didn’t live to finish it.
But in a way, the work didn’t end.
Through a DNA match, a box of binders, and a visit just miles from a house I still own, his research found its way back.
And now, I find myself continuing the story he began.
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