By George Hower / staff writer Sebastopol woodworker Charles Prowell is a dream come true for any any editor of a wodworking magazine__he's not only a fine craftsman, but a writer too. He can do the technical stuff ("Building a Stand-up Desk," Fine Woodworking magazine 1989) or write about his roots ("One Woodworker's Beginnings," Woodwork magazine 1989). You might say it's in his blood. His grandfather and father were woodworkers, his mother and sister are writers. "You want your work to be appreciated 200 years from now... that's the whole point: to create designs that will still be appreciated long, long after I am gone." Reminiscences of his father and grandfather come just as easily as something like "I radius the inlaid corner with a 5/8-in. roundover bit and the other three corners of the leg with a 3/8-in roundover bit." That's when he's concerned about one-eighths or 64ths of an inch. "Other times, though, I could be doing fences. I love to do fences. After months and months in the shop, I am dying to get ut in the sun and take my shirt off and not worry about a 64th of an inch," Prowell says. "I even love to dig the post holes. "All of my friends think I'm nuts, that I could hire someone to dig them, or at least rent an auger, but I like that act of digging the post hole. It's pure physical exertion and hell, if it's an eighth-inch off, who cares?" Prowell owns and operates Charles Prowell Woodworks and he's following in the footsteps of his grandfather, a part-time furnituremaker in Illinois, and his father, a full-time builder who dabbled in furniture when time allowed. "I started as a young boy and have continued with the trade ever since," Prowell says. Prowell's business card simply says "Charles Prowell Woodworks." That reflects the wide range of projects that rise up from his workbench as sawdust and chips fall on the floor. For example, he made a play center for the Mt. Olive Lutheran Church in exchange for a years's schooling fees for his youngest son. And in 1973, when he came to California from Illinois, he made gates, fences, arbors, rehabilitated victorians and designed interiors in quality restaurants. But eventually that clientelle started developing a desire for furniture and Prowell made the switch back to his childhood pasttime. "I'll go for a couple or three years working on nothing but furniture. You get caught up in these commissions and never come up for air. Then, like early this Spring up to now, I've been involved with gates," Prowell said. He made several gates for one client in Ross and when neighbors saw the gates they called and asked Prowell to make gates for them. Most of the commissioned work has been for people in Marin County. "I think I maybe had one or two commissions in Sonoma County and the last one was a nice one--a nine-piece bedroom set for a couple in Santa Rosa. Commissions can range from a dining table to more. Usually what happens is I get a commission on one piece, then word gets around and halfway through that piece I'll get hired by the client's friends or neighbors for something similiar." When Prowell is hired to build a dining room table or bedroom set, the customer knows he or she is getting one of a kind. "I don't come out with a line and then make a dozen of these in a row," he said. "In fact I'll never make this again, even if a client wants it. There'll have to be some changes. That enables the client to get a peculiar piece of work and me not to go to sleep while creating it." Prowell knows his work will be around long after he's gone. "You want your work to be apreciated 200 years from now. I think that's the point: to creat designs that will still be appreciated long, long after I am gone."

Prowell's son, Ben, gives his dad a hand in the shop.

Prowell the writer Prowell's literary efforts extend beyond woodworking magazines. He has published short stories and has recently finished a 700-page novel. When he writes he works from 4:30 a.m. to 7:30, taking advantage of the peaceful quiet. "There's something about the writing of sentences," he said. "It really boils down to writing sentences rather than worrying about what's going to happen at this point in the book or later." "Sometimes I spend all morning on a paragraph. That's great fun. I enjoy the unhurried idea of trying a sentence several different ways. "I wanted to write a coherant novel, something that would be read. On the other hand, I didn't really care beyond the pleasure I got from the sentences themselves."   The family man Prowell and his wife, Jennifer, have two sons--Ben, 4, and Sam, 7. At this point, Prowell said, Ben seems to show more interest in woodworking than Sam. "Sam is more of an insight man. He likes to be the boss," Prowell said. But Ben has an aptitude for tools and conceptual design. It's Ben who sweeps the shop, which pleases Prowell because he likes to keep it tidy. He doesn't like walking around ankle-deep in sawdust. In fact, he could be described, as woodworkers go, as a minimalist. "I have a lot of guys who've read an article of mine and who visit the shop when in the area. They are surprised how under-tooled I am, but I have everything I need. And I do a lot of stuff by hand I used to do with power tools. I like that. It's an old dilemna. Large shops heavily tooled must take on anything to cover the overhead. Small shops are allowed greater freedom." "I have always had this irreverence for tools. I am not fascinated by tools or machinery." Prowell is impressed by the fact that Sonoma and Mendocino counties are "kind of a mecca for woodworkers." A lot of these guys, he adds, came out of design schools. Some attended Laney College. Some were schooled in the Massachusetts School of Design. Some went to the Krenov School in Fort bragg. But Prowell? He learned woodworking by being around his grandpa and dad in grandpa's shop in Sydney, Illinois.

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