‘I’ve got a ’34 wagon and they call it a woodie. . . .’ : You Needn’t Pine for the Woodie
Like a cowboy patting his trusty steed after a hard day’s ride, Stuart Resor caressed the flanks of his 1946 Mercury which had easily made the the drive from Cardiff-by-the-Sea to Long Beach. It was hard to tell which gleamed more--Resor’s smile or the hardwood patina on the old station wagon.
No ordinary hunk of metal and vinyl, this was a genuine woodie wagon, one of the last of a breed of wood-paneled cars, hot rods, trucks and station wagons that once traveled the two-lanes.
Millions of these unusual cars suffered from neglect, cold winters and salty roads, and died nasty little deaths in auto salvage graveyards. But thanks in part to the 1,400 members of the National Woodie Club, about 10,000 of the old heaps have been given new life. Prices range from $2,000 for a junker to $40,00 for one in mint condition.
A handful of the vehicles were displayed at the Queen Mary dock Saturday as a memorial to club founder Will O’Neil, who died in October. O’Neil, a Southern California magazine editor, founded the club in 1974.
One of the first woodies manufactured was a 1928 Model A Ford, Resor said. Most of the major car companies manufactured them until the early ‘50s, when the finely crafted wood detail became too expensive. “And anyway, most people wanted those tinny, vinyl things,” Resor said. The wood panels on wagons sold today are not “the real thing, but Fiberglas decals,” he added disdainfully.
The woodies enjoyed a bit of fame in the ‘60s, when California surfers discovered they were inexpensive and had tailgates which lowered so that their surfboards could fit. “I’m afraid they even used some of the wood for their beach fires,” Resor said with a grimace.
Several groups such as the Beach Boys (Alan Jardine belonged to the woodie club) and Jan and Dean immortalized the cars in song. “Remember ‘Surf City’?,” Resor said, breaking into song. “I’ve got a ’34 wagon and they call it a woodie. . . . Or ‘Surfer Girl’? You know, ‘In my woodie I’ll take you anywhere. . . .’ ” His own fascination, or fanaticism, if you will, began in 1979 when a friend bought one. Resor, a 44-year-old San Diego County architect, said he was surprised by his own interest in his friend’s project. Nostalgia must have fueled his interest, he said, noting that his father owned a 1948 Ford wood wagon. “It was like a stagecoach and my brother and I loved it. We were heartbroken when he came home with a shiny 1953 Ford without wood.”
Resor found a “rusted, thrashed, smoking heap” for $1,350 in Los Angeles, and traded architectural services for help in restoring it. “I couldn’t sleep at night thinking of it. I was afraid I’d tackled something beyond my ability to complete. But I started by sanding one little piece at a time.”
It took him three years to make it presentable, three years of scouring auto salvage stores for Mercury hubcaps, hiring cabinetmakers to rebuild the splintered and missing wood, overhauling a V-8 engine. He religiously read Woodie Times, the club’s monthly magazine which serves as a bulletin board for spare parts. In the process he purchased four other woodies, which were too far gone to be refurbished, but which were ideal sources of parts. And he bought a personalized license plate that reads: FUNWUDI.
Resor even traced his car’s history. He found that the first owner bought it in Phoenix in 1946. The second owner cut part of the Mercury’s roof off and used it as a tow truck at a speedway in Blythe, Calif. The car was later dumped behind a Texaco service station in Parker, Ariz., where it sat for 12 years. Another man bought it and quickly resold it. The fourth owner sold it to Resor.
Resor seemed a bit stunned that anyone would ask why he likes his cream-colored woodie.
“There’s no clean, simple answer,” he said finally, in a tone which indicated he couldn’t imagine why anyone wouldn ‘ t want one. “For starts, the craftsmanship is from an age that will never return. I mean, there’s not a straight piece of wood on it. Look at the subtle curves, the routing, the hardwood. . . .”
How much is his Mercury woodie worth?
“I’d say it’s worth my right arm. And I use that every day to make a living,” the architect said.
