Mike Nickels with a completed refinish on a ’48 Chrysler Town & Country sedan. Most of the wood has original serial numbers.
Words: Roger Meiners and Ross Ruehle
Dating back in design to the turn of the 18th century, the “Woodie” automobile was a carryover from the days of wooden wagons. One of the earliest Woodie bodies appeared on a 1900 Bronson Wagon. These early wooden automobiles emerged from a long-ago era where wood was the material of choice, used in all horse drawn carriages, and even in the framing of early automobiles.
As all-metal construction became more economical, wooden construction became an object of prestige. Hand craftsmanship became the exception rather than the rule and the “Woodie” as we know it today was born. It became a status symbol and a plaything of the well-to-do. Sales of Woodies peaked by the late ‘40s, by which point wood was becoming simulated. The Woodie Car Club of America recognizes 1948 as the last year of the Woodie.
Woodie enthusiasts, and especially admirers of classic Chrysler Woodies will be glad to know that the glory days of the Woodie are alive and well in the woods of northern Michigan near the tip of the state’s “mitten.”
The 1947 Chrysler Town & Country woodie sedan sits quietly in the middle of Mike Nickels’ automotive woodworking shop southeast of Traverse City, Mich. The wood glows through its perfectly varnished finish—even though the Chrysler’s body needs paint and the interior is missing. Still, it’s a thing of beauty.
Mike Nickels first came in contact with a wood car when he was four years old—but it didn’t take. The family’s 1948 Pontiac was used on vacations, during which his father collected agate for his lapidary hobby (polishing stones).
Later, his dad encouraged him to work on a Model A Ford—to get him interested in cars instead of girls. But when he started to drive, he merely used the Model A to drive girls around.
He was converted to woodies when he bought a wood body for a 1929 Model A and put it together. He took the car to a National Woodie Club meet in Vermont, where he met Will O’Neil, the club president and founder. Nickels never looked back—developing his passion for wood into a business called Nickels Automotive Woodworking (Telephone: (231) 947-2599).
He has built a few barrel-back Chryslers and has a ’48 Plymouth woodie station wagon in the garage next to his house. He recently earmarked the car for his ten-year-old grandson to restore someday. The young man has already helped with projects around the shop.
“My wife calls me Michelangelo; I guess that means she thinks I’m an artist,” says Nickels in a recent story in The Wood, the Cars, the People, 30 Years of the National Woodie Club. The book was written by club members and published by that organization.
“The artistic temperament in me just begs me to make messes with tools, sawdust and parts.” He knows how all the parts go together, but leaves the messes to the people who work with him in the shop—a competent, car loving bunch that also covers for him. “I talk to myself and anyone new to the shop just thinks I’m talking to the guys,” he says. The Chrysler Nickels has been working on is ready to go back to its owner in southern Michigan. When another Chrysler gets the treatment is anybody’s guess—but it seems sure that the ’48 Plymouth will be in the shop in a few years, as soon as a certain young man is old enough to tackle it—with the help of his grandfather, Michelangelo.
During the 1920s, before they became signs of status and prestige, Woodies were merely station wagons by design and definition. They provided transportation of goods and people to and from the railroad station, as trains were the most common and reliable form of transportation from town to town. These Woodies earned the nickname Depot Hack. The term is actually two terms combined to make a third. Depot is another name for a railroad station, and a hack, short for hackney, is a type of horse drawn taxi.