Individual Details

Charles William Prouty was born in Daleville, Mississippi in 1893, a time when the U.S only had 44 states, Grover Cleveland was president and the country was at the start of a four year financial depression. His early years saw the invention of movies, radio, and the airplane. World and national events probably seemed far away to a boy growing up in rural Daleville. He was only three when the Supreme Court approved separate but equal segregation, a decision that influenced Mississippi society. One world event his family probably did notice was the Boxer Rebellion in China in 1900, as his Aunt Betty was working as a missionary in China during the conflict for their Methodist Church. As Charles grew, so did the U.S., which now totaling 47 states. As he became a young man, troubles began both at home and abroad. In 1914, tensions overseas became strained and war broke out in Europe. He also suffered the loss of his father in the spring of 1915. Charles left home to work at Lacombe Lumber Co., in Lacombe Louisiana as a stenographer and timekeeper. Three years after it began in Europe, the US entered the war and Charles enlisted in the Navy on July 27, 1917. Only 23, he was sent to Boston, Newport, and then NY to serve on the U.S.S. Aroostook, a passenger ship converted to a minelayer. The Aroostook was sent overseas the following year with Charles serving aboard as a yeoman while the ship took part in what became known as the North Sea Barrage. Based in Scotland, the Aroostook and other ships in both the US Navy and the Royal Navy were responsible for mining the North Sea to prevent U-boats from Germany from reaching the shipping lanes vital in bringing supplies to the British Isles. He wrote his mother about the trip over:

Letter home during WWI --

Censored M.6 SW U.S. Naval Forces Europe (stamp on envelope)

U.S.S. Aroostook
U.S. Naval Forces, European Waters,
U.S. Naval Base 18,
c/o Postmaster, New York, N.Y.

"SOMEWHERE in the WORLD"
1 July, 1918

Dear Mama:
Suppose you are thinking that it is quite time you were hearing from me and by the time this reaches you, you will know that it is "A Long, Long Way from Somewhere to the Good Old U.S.A."
We had quite a nice trip across, a little rough, and somewhat rainy and windy at times, but I managed to, "hold on to everything" fairly well.
We reached our destination last Saturday afternoon after being out almost two weeks. We got our first sight of land after leaving the U.S.A., early in the morning and we were soon seeing some very pretty scenery. Great high jagged cliffs rising many feet into the air with the breakers dashing against their base, with every few miles a white light house perched, in some manner, away up on a narrow ledge. After several hours of this we entered a place where we could see the cliffs on each side and in the distance great rolling mountains showing their blue outlines against the sky with the fleecy clouds draping around their top. While in the middle distance could be seen forests of green and gently sloping hills covered with fields of growing grain and pasture lands. The dark background with the white clouds, together with the green covered hills, combined to make a wonderful picturesque effect, which was enchanted all the more, by the contrast of the harsh outlines of the great cliffs.
Some hours later we passed into a bay and on each side we could see quaint villages in which the houses were of stone with gray slate roofs and sometimes a thatched one with pretty green hedges all about with now and then a white farm house showing up against the green of the hills. "Just like a stage scene" I said to my pals, they all agreed that it was and just like pictures we have seen of places ---- well, "Over here." Finally we dropped anchor in a beautiful harbor near one of these quaint villages. We went ashore yesterday and we found that "quaint" was just the word for it for there is nothing else. All slate roofs with now and then a thatched one. It is all very odd to us, we all agree that the scenery is splendid, but for any thing else, well there are better places we've seen, but we are all from the Glorious Old U.S.A., and that would make a difference in any place.
My pal and I took a ramble all about "town" saw a very pretty castle, a wonderful wood, some fine cattle, a lovely lane which was a street at one end and went away into the wood at the other, until it lost itself among the oddest, prettiest kind of trees, some of them with blue-purple blossoms. I told my chum that we must be asleep for there was "no such a place" and "no such kind of a tree, " but he only said it would be a splendid place to walk with one's "One and Only" but I have not seen a girl in this place one would look at twice. now don't you think that a shame with so many pretty "lover's lanes? Possibly there are some, we haven't really had time to explore the town thoroughly. Any way if there are none the pretty scenery can take care of itself. I'm not worrying.
I suppose you think I have raved enough about this wonderful country, so I will endeavor to talk about something else, but I'm not quite sure what to tell you next for I don't know how much the Censor will blot out, but I will try to keep out of his way.
We are just beginning to realize that we are really at war. Especially so, when we go ashore to order the kind of lunches we used to get "back home." There's absolutely nothing doing, for they are conserving in every thing. Very few people back home really know the meaning of that word as they do here. One thing we do get plenty of and that is fresh eggs, and they are quite a treat after being at sea so long.
We began to realize a little, just a little, when after days and nights of sailing and always constantly watching the seas, what a serious business we were engaged in, when the convoy came out to meet our ships and a little later the air ships. But the people here know what it means and in a far grimmer manner and have known for several long weary years. When one can see the camouflaged buildings, oil tanks, cantonments etc, and knows that it is not just for practice and that the air ship sailing up yonder is not just on a trial spin, why, he begins to wake up a little.
The people go about their work in a calm steadfast manner. There is no moping or dispiritedness shown, but one can tell from the seriousness of their manner that they can and do realize what America is just awakening to. Of course, "back there" we would see the women engaged in different kinds of trades, which before the war belong to men only, but they and every one else looked upon it as a kind of a play, but here they just go ahead in a matter-of-fact manner.
Would like very much to travel about this country when there is no war and possibly I would be able to find a livelier spot with as much pretty scenery. Would like to send you some views, but will have to wait awhile, as I cannot mail them now.
Am feeling fine now, that I have been able to get ashore and run about a bit, think I lost weight coming over, but am feeling "nifty" now. Suppose I had better stop now, for it is Ten-thirty now and I am writing this by day light, as it is long after taps. A fellow just made the remark "its daytime Twenty-four hours here" and he is just about right too, For the sun does not set until after Ten o'clock and rises something like one-thirty, so you see he was about right at that.
Haven't received any mail yet but hope to get some before the war is over. With lots of love to all, I am
Your boy Charles W. Prouty

P.S. Please use the address at the head of the letter when you write.

The Aroostook laid a total of 3,180 mines during ten excursions while assisting in the operation, until the Armistice was signed and the mission was over. The ship with Charles aboard steamed home to NY in December of 1918.

Charles was discharged from the Navy on Sept. 27, 1919 and rented a place in Los Angeles with his navy mate Demery Murphy. He started working for Union Lime Co., 16th and Atlantic Sts., Los Angeles. C.W. appears twice in the 1920 census, one shows him rooming with Demery in Los Angeles, and the other has him working as a stenographer for a construction crew and living with his widowed mother and sisters in Daleville. The Daleville census must have been wishful thinking on his Mothers part, as he never went home to Daleville after his discharge, regardless of the pleas for his return by his Mama and sisters. In Los Angeles he began a romance with Olive DeWitt, a young lady living with her father in a nearby rooming house. Without telling her father, Olive eloped with Charles, riding the train to San Francisco and marrying the following day. Charles kept the marriage secret from his family in Mississippi for months, not telling them about it till the following July after his sister Bess married C. A. Graham. Olive's father, Clarence, had to know right away, but he accepted the marriage, offering C. W. help in getting lines of merchandise to sell similar to his employment, if he desired. The new couple stayed in San Francisco for a while, living at 50 Golden Gate Ave. and Charles started working in a mail order venture with a partner formerly with Sears Roebuck. Charles had a job in the Balboa Building in S.F. Soon thereafter they returned to Los Angeles. There their only son was born in 1923 whom they named Charles DeWitt Prouty.
Life during the 1920's after the first war was a time of economic upswing, jazz, Prohibition, and rebellious youth. Their son recalls that his parents enjoyed going out many weekends with their friends, such as Frank and Burnette Clapp. Burnette was Olive's first cousin. Charles and his friends made their own beer or were able to buy brandy. His son remembers one time when his father bottled his homemade beer too soon. "Pop, Pop, POP," jarred him awake as the bottles burst. Beer started to drip through the floor from the upstairs bathroom housing the cache. Needless to say, his son tasted his first beer at an early age.
Charles is also said to have worked as an extra in early Hollywood films during the silent era. Three titles I was told were "The Great Silk Robbery", "The Blue Bird of Happiness", and "A Blaze of Glory". I've tried finding these titles and am having difficulty. There is a silent film called "Blaze O' Glory" made in 1930 that could be the last one. It is now considered a lost film. Charles wasn't in Hollywood during 1918 when the silent "The Blue Bird" was filmed, possibly he meant the 1940 Shirley Temple film, but that was after the silent era. I haven't located "The Great Silk Robbery" at all. The silent "The Great Train Robbery" was filmed in 1903, before he lived in Hollywood, maybe they meant either the The Great K&A Train Robbery (1926), The Great Jewel Robbery (1925), or "Silk Train" an early 1930s silent film. Charles also wrote westerns that were published in nickel magazines.
When the US entered WWII after Dec 1941, Charles was hired by the California Shipbuilding Corporation, "Calship," at Terminal Island, currently part of the Port of Los Angeles. He worked as an electrician in the construction of victory ships until the war's end when the yard was liquidated. After the war Charles went to work for a Stationary Manufacturer in their warehouse.


Charles enjoyed writing and took creative writing classes in the early 60's. The following are some of his stories from this class based on personal memories.

Autobiographical (More Expert at Dawdling Than at Dabbing) by Charles Prouty March 13 1962

The number of years that have passed since I first saw the light of day is something that I am not interested in discussing at the present moment. However, for the benefit of the reader who is especially chronically minded in regard to data, I will state that I did my bit for my country during the World War II and World War I. Hazily, I remember the assassination of President McKinley, my memory recalls the indelible impression made upon the mind of a five-year-old by the sinking of the Maine and I remember, but did not participate in, the Spanish-American War.

At an early age I developed an interest in literature and my parents expressed surprise when they first noticed me reading a newspaper. This was my first excursion, on my own, into the realm of the printed word. However, the subject that had spurred this interest was the news accounts of the Russo-Japanese War, not politics or the stock market.

Although reared in, and educated for, the commercial world, I liked to read. When in my mid-teens I enjoyed such authors as Dickens, Scott, Stevenson, Verne, Poe, Dumas and other classic and popular works. Just the other day, one of my sisters reminded my that when about sixteen I had assisted our mother in writing a poem which received publication.

Although fond of outdoor life, swimming, hunting, fishing, etc., I never passed up a good book. Mother had been a school teacher and Father was an avid reader. New books and publications were always at hand and made somewhat a bookworm of me. Too, Cousin Willie was one of the editors on the Post-Dispatch. Then, again, reading a book was much easier than lugging groceries on a winter day and not as tiresome as chopping wood, or pulling weeds under a seducive summer sun.

My atrocious penmanship, blundering grammar and impossible spelling did not foretell a future for me in the literary field. My poor arithmetic and and indifference to money value and store keeping, indicated that I was not cut in the mold of a merchant prince. So, I suppose, in desperation, my parents decided that I should be - that I was - an artist. A commercial artist, an illustrator, like James Montgomery Flagg, Charles Dana Gibson, Howard Chandler Christy, et al. I did like to draw - it was easier than working - so I thought.

My parents appreciated my efforts and encouraged me; Mother with enthusiasm and great faith in my ability and talent (?). Her attitude became somewhat modified when she noticed, with ill-concealed apprehension, my interest in the work and subjects of some of the leading artists of the day. She admitted that she feared that I might, "one of these days go to Paris and paint naked women."

Her fears were groundless. Such an interesting day never dawned for me. With the passing of time and the whims of fortune, I had to flounder into the commercial world. I have never loved Paris in the spring, but I have seen Louisiana in springtime and there are many pretty French girls there. Au revoir.


Autobiography, by Charles Prouty written Sept 26, 1962

The story of a "Paradox" who wanted to a "Paragon" and who slowly realizes that "self" as demonstrated by ancient philosophers is truly the greatest enigma of man.

The date of my birth was September 8, 1893 and the place a small country village hidden away in the pine clad hills of the Deep, Deep Old South. My father was a veteran of the Union Army and marched under Sherman. My mother, a daughter of a Confederate soldier who experienced the siege of Vicksburg. Grandfather was a Union sympathizer and was conscripted into the Confederate service - as Grandmother always pointed out with deep pride. These features, alone, contain sufficient paradoxical elements to influence the nature of a young boy and be indirectly the cause of many black eyes and bloody noses - not all mine.

Later in life, when I found myself in the Northern States, some of these influences were suddenly reversed - yet still the cause of black eyes and bloody noses for instead of having to contend with the appellation of "Dam Yankee", I was confronted with "Johnny Reb".

By the time I was through with high school, I had acquired quite a variegated line of experience, working in Father's store and Post Office, my own small store and little farm. Then came life in the big city. Commercial College followed by employment in various types of industry ranging from and through insurance, coal yard, ice cream and lumber in several locations in the South.

While with a large lumber company in Louisiana, along came World War One and I did not wait for the Draft Board to act, but enlisted in the Navy and served until September 1919.

I decided to make California my home and study Traffic Management. I was employed by a Los Angeles building material supply firm and attended night school at L.A. Poly and also enrolled in correspondence course with the La Salle Extension University.

Suddenly I found myself in San Francisco, married to a girl from Kentucky. (Just can't seem to get away from Southern influence.) I obtained a nice position with a subsidiary of the Southern Pacific Railway which was followed a few years later by employment with the Ford Motor Company. I seemed to itch and wiggle about a lot and back to San Francisco I went to work as a traveling salesman for several millinery firms. Then was sent to Los Angeles by a New York brokerage ranging from house slippers and belts to leather coats and tapestries. Lots of fun, but not much money. For several years I traveled about the State representing various firms with various types of merchandise.

Just before World War Two I had my own art novelty business and had several jobbers handling my stuff. This came to an abrupt end when the war came and source of raw materials was cut off.

During the war I worked in shipyard, first as auditor, then found that I could make more as an electrician on the ways.

After the war I work a year or so selling plate glass and stainless steel store window fronts. Spent five years or so with large department store and before reaching 65 was for six years with large wholesale and retail stationery firms, working from Shipping Clerk to Stock Supervisor.

During early school life my parents thought that i possessed artistic ability and enrolled me in a commercial art course. This I forgot about later - as I just don't like to hurry and commercial artists must meet deadlines, or else - . During High School I loved science, but was a poor mathematician. Yet, the further I got in math the better I liked it. I like to read Einstein and dream of what I might accomplish in the laboratory if it were not that I am such a "Paradox".

Shore Patrol by Charles Prouty 1962

Back in the days of World War One life for a time was made miserable for rookies and myself at the USN Training Station at Newport Rhode Island by an officious young temporary rated Petty Officer. Holding a "straw boss" rating of Squad Leader he took every opportunity to show authority by riding us at drill practice or while doing fatigue duty with harsh criticism and unnecessary commands. The weary days slipped away into weeks and the weeks into months and at long last we all shipped out for active sea duty to far-away places.

After a period of three years I had advanced to the rating of a First Class Petty Officer aboard the USS Aroostook, a mine layer in the North Sea. Towards the end of the war our ship visited the southern port of England and naturally we were eager for shore leave. One happy day I found myself the leader of the Shore Patrol from our ship, decked out with arm brassard, belt and night stick.

At the close of several hours of patrol duty a shipmate and I entered the YMCA and sat down at a table in the reading room. My friend sat across the table opposite me and we both began to scan the familiar magazines from back home. Wearing of this, after some thirty minutes or so, I closed the magazine I had been reading, I think it was the old Colliers, with a quick snap and engaged in a bit of horseplay.

Holding the magazine firmly with my two hands I half rose from my seat at the same time exclaiming in an authoritative tone, "Let's go sailor, do you want the Shore Patrol to pick you up!" and bopped, or so I thought, my friend over the head with the hard bound volume. Unknown to me my friend had vacated his chair which to my astonishment was now occupied by my old training station "squad leader" whom I now out ranked by several ratings plus the authority of Shore Patrol Leader. I don't know who was the most astonished, him or me, nor do I know if he recognized me but altho his insignia was that of a third class fireman he still appreciated the voice of authority. With a hearty "Aye Aye Sir" he hurried from the room before I could say more.


From A Message From the Unknown by Charles Prouty Nov. 7, 1962

During World War One the U.S. ship on which I served was based at Inverness, Scotland. Here are the ruins of Macbeth's' castle of Shakespeare's tragedy. We had many opportunities to visit a number of spots in Scotland and England that were celebrated in old historical and folklore stories. Some of these places left one with the feeling that he had taken a step or two backwards in time.

About six months after the war ended our ship went to Plymouth and, of course, we took a sightseeing trip up to London, where we enjoyed viewing at first hand many interesting, ancient places and objects and not just seeing them through the dim, musty pages of a history book.

Like all sailors, we got around seeing and doing everything there was to see, or do. While in London four of us stopped in a little tea shop on a side street. Oh, yes, a sailor does sometimes drink tea, especially if a couple of perky, pretty little waitresses catch his eye as he is passing by. There was a little sign that said something like "Have a cup of tea and have your tea leaves read."

But the pretty little maids did not do the reading. A rather stout, middle age woman appeared and took us separately to a small table for two nearby and read our fortunes from the tea cups.

For some reason she seemed to give me more attention that to my three companions. Perhaps, because I was older, or because they could not divert their attention from the girls long enough to be good subjects. She gave my cup a spin and gazed long and earnestly at the leaves and said, "I see a warning, when the full moon's ahead take heed, do not pass to the right." I asked her what that meant, but she would only say, "You have looked upon the places of the ones that have the power." I asked, "What kind of power?" She replied, "Your eyes show kin with the Highlands, heed the word."

A few days later, back in Plymouth, the four of us were returning to the ship after an evening's shore leave. Ron and I stopped at a place to see about some film and Joe and Carl went ahead. A few minutes later we started on down the route we usually took. Several blocks from the boat landing there was a vee intersection, one street bearing to the right and the other to the left. We could go to the landing either way and usually took the route to the right.

"Let's take the left road and beat Joe and Carl to the dock," I said to Ron. "Sure we'll ask them what kept them so long," he answered. I did not remember until next day that the moon was shining brightly ahead on our way. That was when we heard about the big fight between a gang of English sailors and some of our crew, just a block or so down the right hand route and that both Joe and Carl were in the hospital with severe knife wounds.


Humor in Uniform by Charles Prouty August 8, 1962

During World War One, I was an enlisted man on the USS Aroostook, a mine layer. At the end of the war, we returned and berthed at Brooklyn.

On board, there was a young, care-free, happy-go-lucky sailor whom I shall call Lackey. Lackey's goo nature made him a likeable sort of person, yet no one formed a close friendship with him as, all too often, lackey did the wrong thing at the wrong time no matter when or where.

One Sunday, Visitor's Day, the men invited friends, sweethearts and relatives for a sight-seeing visit aboard this ship that had sown thousands of mines in the cold North Sea.

Several shipmates and myself were starting to show visitors around when here comes Lackey gaily up the gangplank escorting, as seen through our envious eyes, tow of the most gorgeous, young blonds to be found in all of Brooklyn.

During the tour, Lackey with his lovely guests drifted into line just ahead of our group. Moving along, we could see and hear him proudly pointing out interesting features: "Here's the Mess Hall; here's the Master Gyrocompass; here's the Ship's Executive Office; here's the CPO's quarters; and, here's the Chief's shower room. At this point, probably overwhelmed by the smiling, giggling, breathless, "Oh's" and "Ah's" and girlish squeals of appreciation, he threw wide open the door. Boy, he's right this time! It's the CPO's shower room for sure! There stood three Chief's stripped under the showers! A startling sight not scheduled on our sight-seeing itinerary.


I Had My Love to Keep Me Warm by Charles Prouty written October 9, 1962

This is a "True Story" - I know - for it happened to me. The time - early in the famous Roaring Twenties soon after World War One. The place - the most romantic city in the United States - San Francisco. Perhaps so remembered because we were newlyweds, recently eloping from Southern California's City of the Angels, to seek and find romance in the "Paris of America." But that's another story.

We were both employed - she in a steamship office - I, in a railroad office. We did not make much money - but who cares when "all the world is bright and young" and "life is just a happy dream."

San Francisco is usually somewhat cooler than the Southland. Now, it was winter, mists, winds and fog vied with pale sunshine along Powell and Market streets. In the evening as we strolled along window shopping and watching what ever it is that interest newlyweds - which is just about everything - she remarked, "I wish you had an overcoat!" She wore a warm long coat - not mink - but snug and cozy. Oh, she did alternate and sometimes went without her coat. I think this was to better display a fashionable tailored suit embellished with one hundred and ten buttons, which cost, so her father said, "a dollar a button." I was rather surprised, for although wearing light clothing, I had not noticed any drop in temperature for "I had my love to keep me warm."

One of the leading newspapers, the old Evening Post, I think, began to give out numbered tickets by their news vendors. A list of numbers would be published in each edition. Each number so published won a prize, the amounts varying from 50¢ to perhaps $100.00, or more. I soon collected quite a fistful of tickets which Olive and I would check religiously each evening. Suddenly, one evening as I was calling off the numbers on our tickets, she exclaimed, "That's it! And it's for your overcoat!" The number checked was for $40.00

Next evening we spent shopping. Just before we reached the clothing store I started to enter a large confectioner's nearby. (A big box of chocolate creams is her idea of Heaven) "No, we don't - we will wait until we get the coat and then if we have anything left -!", she exclaimed.

The coat cost exactly $40.00 - there was no sales tax those days - and no candy that evening.

Not so remarkable you say - wait a minute! The very next evening as we checked our batch of tickets one was on the list for $2.50, and in those days that amount would buy a real big box of chocolates which it did on our next stroll down Market Street.

The End of the First Trans-Atlantic Flight by Charles Prouty November 7, 1962

About two months ago, I believe it was on the evening of September 3rd, my wife excitedly called for me to leave the typewriter and join her at the TV set to see Admiral Albert C. Reed of the USN, who was a guest on Garry Moore's, "I've Got a Secret." I met the Admiral briefly in 1918; he was not an Admiral then, but a Lieutenant Commander. His secret, was that he was Commander of the first airplane to fly the Atlantic, a fact that the public has forgotten. This reminded me that I, too, have a "secret," for I was privileged to write and attend to the transmittal of Commander Reed's message to Josephus Daniels, the Secretary of the Navy at the time, announcing the successful completion of his flight at Plymouth, England.

At that time I was a Yeoman, First Class, aboard the USS Aroostook, a mine layer, which acted as the supply ship for the three NC planes during the flight. I saw the start of the flight at Trepassey, Newfoundland, and witnessed Reed's arrival at Plymouth, and his reception by Admiral Thursby of the Royal Navy and also the Lord Mayor of the city.

I quote from a diary which I kept during my navy days: "June 3, 1919, Plymouth. NC-4 arrived at 1:26 P>M>, 5/31/19. Crew officially received by Mayor and Committee. Big cheers from all the ships when the big pland came sailing in. She passed directly over the Aroostook, circling over the harbor and made a beautiful landing amid the cheers of the people lining the beach and from the ships. The whistles and sirens were almost deafening for the next ten minutes; the Aroostook did not sound here siren until the NC-4 landed then cut loose with a long blast from the big siren which drowned the noise of the others nearby. After being received by the Committee the crew (of the plan) came on board the Aroostook. That night I did some work for Commander Reed, writing cablegrams, etc., to the Sec. Navy, describing the flight from Brest to Plymouth. The Commander received many telegrams of congratulations. He showed dome to me, one from President Wilson, he handed it to me with the remark, "I would not take $100.00 for this one." He received many others, among which was one inviting him to a banquet and to meet the Prince of Wales. The next morning the crew and our Captain went to London where they were received with great honors. The papers were full of accounts of the flight of the NC-4, reception of the crew and the welcome accorded..."

I still have my original notes of my diary and messages dictated to me by Admiral Reed to the Secretary of the Navy.


[Desert Sun, Volume 35, Number 10, 16 August 1961]
LETTER
The Editor
The Desert Sun
Dear Sir:
On your Editorial Page today, in the column headed Other Editors, you print an excerpt from the Christian Science Monitor on the current centenarian commemorative observance of the Civil War.
It is the best thing I have read on these gigantic, spectacular. pseudo, military pageants, masquerading under various guises as aids to patriotism.
More articles of this nature should be published. Man's cruel, bloody blunder of using war instead of reason only appears romantic. and just when viewed at a distance through the soft, rosy hued lens of time.
My father marched under Sherman; my paternal grandfather was, also, a Union soldier at that time; and, my maternal grandfather was with the Confederate army at the seige of Vicksburg.
Yours very truly.
Charles W. Prouty
Palm Springs

[Desert Sun (Palm Springs), Volume 35, Number 129, 4 January 1962]
Charles Prouty Condition Fair
Charles Prouty of Palm Springs was listed in fair condition today at Desert Hospital following his admittance Wednesday morning.
The popular commander of the local Veterans of Foreign Wars post suffered a heart attack and was rushed to the hospital about 8 a.m. yesterday.

• 

Birth	8 Sep 1893	Daleville, Lauderdale, Mississippi, United States
Christen	Nov 1894	Daleville, Lauderdale, Mississippi, United States
Military	27 Jul 1917	World War I - U.S.S. Aroostook, U.S.Naval Forces, European Waters
Census	1920	Assembly District 64,, Los Angeles, Los Angeles, California, United States
Census	2 Jan 1920	Beat 3, Lauderdale, Mississippi, United States
Marriage	16 Sep 1920	San Francisco, San Francisco, California, United States - Olive May Augusta DeWitt
Occupation	1921	Balboa Building, San Francisco, San Francisco, California, United States
Residence	1921	50 Golden Gate Ave., San Francisco, San Francisco, California, United States
Residence	Dec 1928	416 Story Building, Los Angeles, Los Angeles, California, United States
Census (family)	5 Apr 1930	Los Angeles, Los Angeles, California, United States - Olive May Augusta DeWitt
Census (family)	3 Apr 1940	Assembly District 59, block 15, Los Angeles, Los Angeles, California, United States - Olive May Augusta DeWitt
Census (family)	1950	Torrance, Los Angeles, California, United States - Olive May Augusta DeWitt
Residence (family)	1977	3431-D West Olinda Lane, Oakridge Terrace Apts., Anaheim, Orange, California, United States - Olive May Augusta DeWitt
Death	11 Mar 1989	Santa Rosa, Sonoma, California, United States
Burial		at sea by the scattering of his ashes, Pacific Ocean

Spouse	Olive May Augusta DeWitt (1884 - 1985)
Child	Living

Father	James William "Will" Prouty (1843 - 1915)
Mother	Sarah Matilda "Sallie" Hughes (1858 - 1940)
Sibling	Dora Elizabeth "Bessie" Prouty (1895 - 1986)
Sibling	Alice Pauline "Polly" Prouty (1897 - 1985)
Sibling	Hattie Irene "Rene" Prouty (1899 - 1978)

Notes