Lou's parents were:
Edgar Clifford "Ed" Lamb, b. Nov. 17, 1863 in Campo, San Diego County, CA. and d. Jan. 30, 1942 in
San Jacinto, Riverside County, CA. &
Mary Matilda "Mollie" Ellison Lamb, b. Mar. 3, 1870 in Thayer County, NE. and d. Dec. 7, 1925 in San Jacinto, Riverside County, CA.

24 yr. old Ed Lamb and 18 yr. old Mary Matilda 'Mollie' Ellison were married on Jul. 25, 1888 in San Jacinto, Riverside, CA.

Ed and Mollie Lamb's children were:
1. Winona A. Lamb, b. May 4, 1889 in San Jacinto, Riverside, CA. and d. Oct. 21, 1967 in Hemet, Riverside, CA. Winona marr. James M Sheppherd.
2. Clifford Edgar (nickname- 'Bill') Lamb, b. Feb. 16, 1891 in San Jacinto, Riverside, CA. and d. Oct. 16, 1959 in San Bernardino, San Bernardino, CA. He marr. Elsie M. __.
3. Charles Orange (nickname - 'Joe') Lamb (Sr.), b. Nov. 4, 1892 in San Jacinto, Riverside, CA. and d. Apr. 19, 1964 in Los Angeles, Los Angeles, CA.
4. Lucy Ellen Lamb, b. Nov. 11, 1894 in San Jacinto, Riverside, CA. and d. Apr. 27, 1958 in San Jacinto, Riverside, CA. Lucy marr. Tom Mapstead.
5. Louis Clinton 'Lou' Lamb, b. Jan. 2, 1897 in San Jacinto, Riverside, CA. and d. Sep. 18, 1977 in Upland, San Bernardino, CA. Lou marr. Mary 'Mame' Perdew.
6. James Wallace 'Jim' Lamb, b. Oct. 30, 1898 in Beaumont, Riverside, CA. and d. Dec. 9, 1958 in Riverside, Riverside, CA.
7. Grace Leona Lamb, b. Nov. 21, 1900 in Tipton, Tulare, CA. and d. Feb. 16, 1972 in Banning, Riverside, CA. Grace marr. Paul "Jack" Clifford Randal.
8. Richard Urma 'Rich' Lamb, b. May 24, 1903 in Tulare, Tulare, CA. and d. Mar. 24, 1954 in Monrovia, Los Angeles, CA. Richard marr. Maybelle Madeline Morrison on Oct. 15, 1924 in Los Angeles, CA.
9. Theodore Roosevelt (nickname - 'Babe') Lamb. b. Jun. 15, 1905 in San Jacinto, Riverside, CA. and d. Aug. 7, 1968 in San Bernardino, San Bernardino, CA. 'Babe' married Hazel Perdew.

Louis Clinton Lamb married Mary 'Mamie' Perdew in Los Angeles, CA. on Nov. 30, 1918.
Mamie was the daughter of Rufus Putnam 'Put' Perdew and Georgianna 'Anna' (Day) Perdew. She was born Sept. 2, 1902 in Etiwanda, San Bernardino, CA.

Louis and 'Mamie' Lamb lived on a large citrus farm near Anaheim, Orange Co., CA. They had three children:
1) Robert 'Bob' Leroy Lamb, b. Oct. 29, 1921 in Etiwanda, San Bernardino, CA., according to San Bernardino County Birth records and d. Feb. 15, 2005. Bob Lamb and Wanda Lou Russell were married on Sept. 26, 1942, while he was in the Navy, and he shipped out shortly after they were married. Their daughter, Sharon, was born in 1943.
2) Howard Loren Lamb, born July 26, 1925 in El Monte, L. A., CA. and d. Dec. 8, 1995 in Arcadia, L. A., CA. Howard joined the Navy in 1943, just before his 18th birthday, and on April 24, 1945, while still in the service, he marr. Betty Jane Friend.
3) James 'Jim' Eugene Lamb, born Dec. 2, 1942 in Anaheim, Orange, CA.
18 yr. old Jim marr. 17 yr. old Annette 'Nan' LeMay at the 'Old Rock (Methodist) Church' on Archibald Av. in Cucamonga, S. B., CA. on Jul. 1, 1961.

In the 1900 U.S. census, 3 yr. old Lewis Lamb, b. in CA., was living in Tipton, Tulare, CA. with his
37 yr. old father, Edgar Lamb, a stock raiser, b. Nov. 1863 in CA.
30 yr. old mother, Mary Lamb, b. Mar. 1870 in NE.
11 yr. old sister, Winona Lamb, b. May 1889 in CA.
9 yr. old brother, Clifford Lamb, b. Feb. 1891 in CA.
7 yr. old brother, Orange Lamb, b. Nov. 1892 in CA.
5 yr. old sister, Lucy Lamb, b. Nov. 1894 in CA.
1 yr. old brother, James Lamb, b. Oct. 1898 in CA.
Edgar and Mary had been married for 12 yrs. Mary was the mother of six children, all still alive by this census.
Edgar's parents were both b. in IN.
Mary's father was b. in NY. and her mother in WI.

In the 1910 U.S. census, 13 yr. old Lew Lamb, b. in CA., was living in San Jacinto, Riverside, CA. with his
46 yr. old father, Edgar C. Lamb, a stockman in a stock house/slaughter house, b. in CA.
40 yr. old mother, Mary M. Lamb, b. in NE.
19 yr. old brother, Clifford Lamb, a laborer, working out, b. in CA.
17 yr. old brother, George Lamb, a stock man on a stock farm, b. in CA.
15 yr. old sister, Lucy Lamb, b. in CA.
11 yr. old brother, James Lamb, b. in CA.
9 yr. old sister, Grace Lamb, b. in CA.
7 yr. old brother, Richard Lamb, b. in CA.
4 yr. old brother, Theodore Lamb, b. in CA.
This was a first marriage for both Edgar and Mary. They had been married for 21 years. Mary was the mother of nine children, all still alive by this census.
Edgar's father was b. in IN. and his mother in OH.
Mary's father was b. in NY. and her mother in IN.

According to his Jun. 5, 1918 WWI Draft Registration card, Louis Clinton Lamb was b. Jan. 2, 1897 in San Jacinto, CA. He was employed by Mr. E. Engle in San Jacinto. His nearest relative was his father, Ed. C. Lamb if San Jacinto. He was described as medium in height and build, with brown eyes and brown hair.

Riverside Daily Press (Riverside, CA.), P. 6, Mon., Dec. 9, 1918
Married in Los Angeles
Word was received last week of the marriage in Los Angeles of Louis C. Lamb of Upland. The bridegroom is the son of Mr. and Mrs. E.C. Lamb and is at present in the navy, having enlisted early last summer.
In the 1920 U.S. census, 23 yr. old Louis C. Lamb, a farmer, b. in CA., was living in a rented home in San Jacinto, Riverside, CA. with his
18 yr. old wife, Mamie Lamb, b. in CA.
Louis' father was b. in Nevada and his mother in Nebraska.
Mamie's father was b. in IA. and her mother in CA.

In the 1920 U. S. census, 23 yr. old Louis C. Lamb, a farmer, b. in CA., was living on South Central Ave. in San Jacinto, Riverside, CA. with his
18 yr. old wife, Mamie Lamb, b. in CA.
Mamie's father was b. in IA. and her mother in CA.
Louis' father was b. in NV. and his mother in NE.

According to the 1930 U.S. census, 33 yr. old Louis C. Lamb, a dairyman living on a dairy farm (which rented for $16.75), b. in CA., was living in Brawley, Imperial, CA. with his
28 yr. old wife, Mamie Lamb, b. in CA.
8 yr. old son, Robert Lamb, b. in CA.
4 yr. 9 mth. old Howard Lamb, b. in CA.
Louis' father was b. in CA. and his mother in NE.
Mamie's father was b. in IA. and her mother in CA.
Lou was 22 yrs. old and Mamie was 16 when they married.

In the 1940 U.S. census, 43 yr. old Louis C. Lamb, a laborer on a citrus ranch, b. in CA., was living on a farm at 1157 W. Juanita Av. in San Jose, Los Angeles, CA. with his
37 yr. old wife, Mamie P. Lamb, a housekeeper in a private house, b. in CA.
18 yr. old son, Robert L. Lamb, b. in CA.
14 yr. old son, Howard L. Lamb, b. in CA.
The family was living on a farm in El Monte, Los Angeles, CA. in 1935.
The highest grade Louis had completed was 6th. Mamie had finished 8th grade, Robert had finished three years of high school and Howard had completed 7th grade.
In the week prior to the census, Louis had worked 54 hours.
In 1939, he had worked 54 hours. His income was $1,000.
In the week prior to the census, Mamie worked '15 hours' and her wage was listed as $0 - with no income from other sources.

The following recollections are from the 2020 memoirs of 'Lou' Lamb's son, Jim Lamb, and are shared with his permission:
"In 1946, when I was four and (my cousin) Sharon Lamb (daughter of Bob Lamb) was almost three, we were playing near the wood shed, I heard someone say, "Jimmie, go get Mama." When we looked up, we both screamed and ran into the house. What we saw was something that looked, and walked, like a zombie; but it was my dad and he was badly burned from hips to head, with skin and clothing hanging in blackened shreds. He and another ranch hand had been using D2-tractors to disc and spread chicken manure into the soil of an orange tree orchard. The hand, Steve, could not get the starter engine of his tractor started, and he had removed the spark plug, and unbeknownst to Dad, had poured gasoline into the cylinder head. When Dad came over to help him, there was an open-cap 5-gallon gas can set on the track of the tractor, next to the starter engine. He told Dad he wanted to check if it was getting any spark. So, Dad held the spark plug near some metal and had Steve crank the engine; there was a spark which ignited the spilled gas and the gas can blew up, dowsing Dad over his upper body. Steve was scared and ran off, back up to the ranch office to get help; and Dad, in order to put out the flames, rolled in the freshly disc'd soil and chicken manure, and then walked a half mile to our house! He had suffered third degree burns over 40% of his body, which in 1946, was usually a death sentence, especially with infection from the chicken manure and dirt. It took him about 9 months to fully recover. (Post note: They did a great job on Dad's face, except for one ear, but his arms and body had a lot of deformation.)"

"Then, in 1948, Dad was using the Caterpillar bulldozer tractor, pushing out Cottonwood trees, to clear the bottom land along the Santa Ana River, which was going to be leased out to Marshburn Farms for growing produce. Bob and Ernie Johnson (ranch superintendent) drove out to pick up Dad for lunch. Dad had pushed over all but one large tree, about the time they drove up in the field, about 150 yards away. As Dad pushed the last tree over, it fell on a fallen tree that was in a pile, and caused that already fallen tree to stand up, and then fall back down across Dad and the tractor. It fell across Dad's chest and pinned him backwards over the fuel tank. Dad tried to kick at the clutch lever to stop the movement but trapped his foot under something. The tractor was in the lowest gear and was moving slowly forward which was causing the tree to push across his chest. There was a large limb on the tree that was slowing inching toward Dad's head. Afraid the limb would pull his head off, he got his hands under the tree trunk and did a 'bench press' motion while it was sliding towards him. As the limb got close to his head, he made a final push and pushed the tree up and over his head and let the tree fall over the back of the tractor; this action broke his arm. Bob and Ernie had started running towards him when they saw what had happened, but didn't get to him to stop the tractor until after he had gotten the tree off of himself. Besides the broken arm, Dad suffered 4 broken vertebrae in his back, as well as some ribs. He was hospitalized for about three months and had to wear a full body brace for another six months. A few days after the accident, Bob and Ernie were showing Howard and some ranch hands how the accident happened. Four of them were unable to lift that end of the tree that fell on Dad, which was about 10" in diameter. -An example of what an adrenaline rush can do under extreme situations!"

"My father was a character and my brothers, Bob and Howard took after him, by way of his sense of humor. Dad loved a good joke, whether in story form or played on someone. He remembered every joke he had ever heard and could recite every dirty ditty heard - many of which he taught me and my son, Tom!

"Growing up, Dad and his brothers, two at a time, would be sent up to the San Jacinto mountains with a herd of cattle and sheep. Two boys would take the herds up to graze in the various meadows and would stay camped out for up to six months at a time. My grandfather would send one older boy with a younger one. Supplies would be brought up to them every month or so. They lived under a canvas lean-to with one old metal-spring bed to sleep on. They washed, when they did wash, in the creeks next to their campsites. The first time Dad was sent up the mountain, he was 5 years old, and his brother, Joe, accompanied him. Joe, at the time, was 9 years old. When Dad first went up as the older boy, he was 9 years old, and his brother, Jim, was only 7 years old! The old man would send a .22 single-shot rifle along with the boys so they could shoot squirrels, rabbits, opossums, etc., for their meat. They would also catch trout out of the creeks; but most of the time, they did not use a fishing pole. Instead, they used what they called the 'coon' or 'cooning' technique, which they learned from watching raccoons catch fish. They would get in the creek and use their hand to reach up under the bank edge and slowly stroke a hand along the fish's belly, which, if done properly, would immobilize the fish until they could gently squeeze hold of and catch the fish. This allowed them to catch fish when the fish were not biting!

"Once, when Dad and his brother, Jim, were camped out on the mountain, they would play by sliding down a bank, and they would often wear holes in the seat of their pants. They were back in camp and Jim was bent over, getting more wood for the cook fire, and Dad was chewing a wad of pine pitch. Dad noticed the hole in Jim's pants, so he took the pitch from his mouth and rolled it into a hard ball, took the sling-shot and fired the pitch ball, hitting Jim on his bare butt. While dad was laughing, Jim got the .22 rifle, placed it against Dad's forehead and pulled the trigger. Dad told him, "I knew it wasn't loaded," to which Jim said, "Well, you're one lucky Indian," as he ejected a live shell that had a firing pin mark on it, but had not fired. Then the fight began!

"None of the boys went very far in school as a result of the work priorities of the 'Old Man' (as they called my grandfather). The kids never attended school more than about 3 months a year. Dad only went up to the third grade, but you couldn't stump him on math, spelling or history, and he could recite every poem taught to him. I can't tell you how many, many times I heard him recite "The Village Blacksmith" (a 48 line poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow that begins, "Under a spreading chestnut tree, The village smithy stands"..) Oh, how I wish I could hear him again...

"When Dad was ten, he was in the third grade. His oldest brother, Bill, was in the same class, but Bill was seventeen, along with Bill's friend, Joe Laborda (Laborde?). There was only one classroom for all the grades. Joe Laborda had a full moustache, chewed tobacco and would spit out the open window. Once, the teacher was teaching the kids music. She would have the kids recite the music scale: "Doe, ray, me, fa, so, la, tee, doe." However, when she asked Bill and Joe to recite the scale, they would say, "Doe, ray, you." Frustrated, she would shout, "No! Say, "do, ray, me," to which they would again say, "Doe, ray, you!" She finally gave up. They had the room in hysterics!

"Dad could not read music, but he could play the guitar, concertina, accordion, harmonica, and once, when I brought home my new trumpet, he said, "Let me see that damn thing. Now how do you make the sound?" I told him how and then he proceeded to play Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star! I never did learn to play it worth a darn.

"Once, when we had some baby goats, I was playing with one, and the goat would push against my hand with his head. I was about eight years old, and I hollered to Dad to look at what the little goat was doing, and he said, "He wants to play. Get down on your knees and put your head against his, and he will push you." Well, when I did, the goat pushed against my forehead alright, then suddenly raised up on his hind legs, dropped down and butted my head! I believe I saw spots before my eyes, and I thought Dad would either choke to death or wet himself for laughing so hard. He said, "You see, Jim, you can't trust anybody... but I bet you won't do that again."

"Dad served in the Navy during World War I, aboard the USS Halifax. Once, when onshore in England, he and some other sailors were having discussions with some English soldiers, bragging and trying to see who could outdo the other. Dad challenged one of the 'limeys' along with money on the bet, that he could hit a steel plate on a building harder than the Englishman. It was a dark evening, and what the Englishman didn't notice was Dad had some brass knuckles on his hand. After Dad hit the metal plate, and quickly hid the brass knuck's, the Englishman hit the plate with his bare fist and broke his hand. Yes, they had all previously been thrown out of a pub!

"Mom and Dad were introduced by Mom's brother, Rufus 'Doc' Putnam Perdew, Jr.
Doc and Dad were working together as cowboys for the Warner Ranch, south of Temecula. Mom was 14 years old, and Dad was 19. Mom lived in Etiwanda with her folks at the old rock house. (The foundation is still there, and kids nowadays use it to play paint ball.) When Dad first took Mom out to San Jacinto to meet his family, he was driving a Model T Ford. They were on a dirt road (now called Gilman Springs Road) and as they made the bend to go across the San Jacinto River bridge (now State Street), Mom leaned over and kissed Dad on the cheek. This was the first kiss, and Dad missed the bridge and ran off into the river bottom, sticking the front wheels in the mud. They had to walk down to Jim Sheppard's ranch (Dad's brother-in-law), so they could bring a horse back and pull the car back up on the road.

"Dad and Mom would take a month's vacation (only paid for 2 weeks) every year, beginning in 1949, thru 1964, up to the Klamath River, CA. We would camp at 'Shorty's Camp' beside the river, rent a boat and fish for salmon during the August salmon run. Dad would smoke some of the salmon, and Mom would can fresh salmon and the smoked fish. She would pick blackberries and huckleberries during the day while Dad and I were fishing, then she would also can the berry jelly and make pies in the evening, as well as canning the fish. It really wasn't a vacation for Mom! In 1949, the first year that we went up to Klamath, we went with Ross and Ruth Gue. Ross and Ruth had been there before and had made several friends there, in the camp. One night, Ross invited us to go to the 'camp bonfire' and meet the other campers. Rose approached the group around the bonfire and said, "Folks, I'd like you to meet some friends of ours. This is their first time up here. This is Mame and Lou Lamb and their son, Jimmie, and - so I don't have to remember all of your names, would you please introduce yourselves?" Each individual began telling us their names. When it got around to one of the men, he said, "Hi, I am Bob Off, nice to meet you all," to which Dad said, "Bob Off... Any relation to Jack?" Yes, there was a lot of laughter, except from Mom and me.. but then, I was only 6 years old! Mom chewed Dad out all the way back to our tent! I don't remember her ever going back to another bonfire gathering!

"The first time my wife, Nan, met my Mom and Dad, Bob, Wanda and Sharon had brought her down to the ranch. Unbeknownst to me, Dad had taken some green-colored toilet paper and wetted it. He was hiding a glob of it in his hand, and when Sharon and Nan walked up to him, Sharon said, "Grandpa, this is Nan." And he said, "Oh, just a second, I've got this bad head cold." Then, he acted as if he used his thumb to blow his nose while dropping the wet tissue on the cement walk, which splattered and looked like greenish snot. Sharon yelled, "Oh, Grandpa!" Nan looked a little green! I couldn't believe what he had done! That was the first impression Nan had of her future father-in-law! Oh yeah, he laughed as loud as - or louder than the rest of us. Mom was mortified!

"Another time, when I brought Nan to the ranch for the weekend, Mom had made us supper, and had started the cleanup. Dad asked Nan if she knew her etiquette. He said, "For instance, if you were at a dinner party, would you eat every bean and pea on your plate?" -To which Nan said yes, she would. Dad hollered to Mom, "Mame, don't wash Nan's plate... She pea'd on it!" This was another one of those knee-slappers by him. Was he trying to make points with my girlfriend, or run her off!? Mom chewed Dad out again, after Nan went home.

"After Mom died in 1975, Dad would, from time to time, stay with us, and we would take him to see attractions that neither he nor Mom had ever visited. Tom and Molly got a big kick out of watching 'Pop' at the attractions. It was like watching another kid, enjoying himself. When we took him to Disneyland, one of the rides we went on was the 'Pirates of the Caribbean', and Tom still remembers Dad rooting on the pirates chasing the women around; and him singing loudly through, 'It's a Small World' venue.
We also took Dad to the Hollywood Wax Museum. When you entered the museum, there was a Keystone Cop standing there. After explaining to Dad that all the people represented there are made of wax, he was amazed. He walked up, face-to-face with the cop, who never blinked, and Dad was saying, "Damn, he looks real, almost looks like he has real tears in his eyes. Wow, he looks real." ..The cop said loudly, "I am real," and grabbed at him! Dad jumped back and hollered, "You son-of-a-b**h!" We almost died laughing, and so did the Keystone Cop!

"Another time, we took him to the 'Alligator Farm' in Buena Park. There was a foot bridge over the top of the pond the alligators swim around in, and a fellow was throwing chickens to the alligators. Dad was leaning over the side of the bridge, watching them being fed. I walked up behind him, reached down and grabbed him by his calf, and he yelled, "Ai-yee, he's got me," shaking his leg! Then he said, "I may have sh**d a little, shaking out the seat of his britches.

When I was a lineman for the Edison Company, I smoked cigarettes, unbeknownst to Mom and Dad! Edison came out with a letter, stating there was to be no smoking while in an elevated position, as someone had dropped a cigarette while on a pole and had started a grass fire. So, a lot of the linemen began chewing tobacco, as I did. I took Dad fishing one time, in my pickup truck, and I had my chewing tobacco in the glove compartment. Dad, for whatever reason, opened the glove compartment and saw the tobacco pouch. He said, "Oh no, you aren't chewing tobacco, are you? Jim, don't start that habit. That is more addictive and nastier than cigarettes and that's one habit you can't break, and I know that first hand." I asked him how he knew. He said, "Well, you know when me and the brothers used to camp up in the mountains, I spent six months up there with your uncle Bill, one summer. Bill chewed tobacco all day long, and the last thing he did at night, was roll up a chaw of tobacco in his mouth to get it moistened, and then stick it on the head rail of our bed. Then, the first thing he did every morning, before he got out of bed, he would stick that chaw back in his mouth. I hated watching him spit all day, and I thought, "I'll fix him," so that night, after he went to sleep, I took that chaw of his off of the bed rail and stuck it in the crack of my a**, and before Bill woke up in the morning, I stuck that chaw back on the bed rail. When he woke up, he grabbed that chaw and stuck it in his mouth, then said, "This tastes like sh**!" The next night, he did the same thing, and me too! I did that every night for a month and finally, Bill quit chewing tobacco. I had broken him of the habit. ..But Jim, for God's sake, don't start chewing that crap, because you know, that was over 60 years ago, and to this day, I can't go to sleep at night without a chaw of tobacco in the crack of my a**! Yes, he got me again. I can still hear him laughing! That's the way he was; how he was always able to come up with some off-the-wall joke about any situation still amazes me!

"Not only was Dad a real jokester, he could figure just about anything out. It might puzzle him for a few hours or days, but eventually he would come up with a solution. I don't know how he would do today in this electronic, digital world, but I have to believe he would do pretty well (as I probably get my 'geek' abilities from him)! An example of his, "Never give up, 'cause 'can't' never accomplished a damn thing," attitude, brings to mind when they retired and bought a little house on Hazel Drive in Lytle Creek. On their property, there was an out-building that previous owners had built as the second bedroom. This building was built on its own raised foundation, and measured 10 feet x 20 feet, with an 8 ft. ceiling, two windows, and had a pitched, shingled roof. It probably weighed three tons, altogether. The problem was where it was located. It blocked access to the rear of the property, and Dad wanted to be able to drive his pickup behind the main house. He said that someday, he would figure out what he wanted to do with it, either tear it down and rebuild, or move it some way or another. I told him that when he figured out what he wanted to do, to let me know and I'd be glad to help him, but I didn't think it was possible to move it. He said, "There's always a way to do anything, you just have to think it out." About a month later, Nan and I visited them in Lytle Creek. When we drove up in the driveway, Nan said, "Something is different," and she was right! The small out-building was rotated 90 degrees and moved about 40 feet south, on the opposite side of the lot, and Dad's pickup was parked alongside of the main house!
I thought he must have torn it down and rebuilt it on a foundation he had made; but no, he had actually raised it intact, rotated and moved it across the lot. He said he used jacks, plywood sheets, several pipe sections, and he moved it over the pipes by using hand hoists, slings and rigging 'block and tackle' pulled with the pickup. I didn't believe him, but his neighbor, Fred Nix, verified it. Fred told me that Dad had done all of the work himself, and Freddy only helped him when using the hoists and pickup to pull on the rigging, rolling the building over the pipes, then re-graded the ground to drive the pickup behind the house. Even though I know exactly how he accomplished this project, to me, it seems comparable to the building of the pyramids, which Dad said, would have been a 'piece of cake' with all them damn slaves to do the work!

Tue., Sep. 20, 1977
Louis C. Lamb, Lytle Creek
Louis Clinton Lamb, 80, of Lytle Creek, died Sunday in an Upland hospital. He was born in San Jacinto and lived in Lytle Creek 15 years.
Lamb was a rancher 30 years at Rancho Santa Ana in Orange County before his retirement. He was a navy veteran of World War I and a member of the Lytle Creek Post No. 3879 of the Veteran of Foreign Wars.
Survivors include three sons, Howard L. of Duarte, Robert L. of Alta Loma and James E. of Upland, seven grandchildren and four great-grandchildren.
Services are scheduled for 10:30 a.m. Wednesday in Stone Funeral Home, Upland, where friends may call from 5 to 9 p.m. today. Burial will be in Bellevue Cemetery, Ontario.