(first posted 4/24/2015) It’s supposed to be station wagon week here at CC, but so far, most all I have seen is a bunch of long-roofed metal sedans. Why have we not seen a real wagon? You know, the kind in which you send your driver to pick guests up at the station to bring them back to your horse farm in the countryside for a weekend of genteel leisure. The kind of leisure that involves Irish setters and lots of highballs. Well, we have one today.
It was, of course, the steel station wagon that brought that body style into sync with the modern era in which it became the kind of car bought by ordinary people. Before the 1949 Plymouth Suburban, the station wagon had evolved much more slowly than the rest of autodom, varying not all that much from the Depot Hack body on a Model T. Or, for that matter, the one powered by old Dobbin after being fueled by a bag of oats. A body of furniture-grade hardwood that was sawed, glued, screwed, sanded and varnished, then plunked on a passenger car frame. For starters, they were usually the most expensive model in a given line, and not by a little.
And then there was that maintenance.
I have never owned an old wooden speedboat. At one time, that was one of my life goals, but I have moved on. And the thought of maintaining one of those beautiful brutes is one of the main reasons. In much of the country, a car that sees regular use probably sees just about as much water in a year as a boat (at least a boat on a lake in one of the northern states). Wood and water just don’t go together that well, so annual applications of sandpaper, elbow grease and marine varnish were necessary to keep these looking like this degrading as slowly as possible.
Would this be the prewar equivalent of today’s Lexus SUV? In some ways yes, but not in others. These wood station wagons were never high-volume models, especially so at Packard, where this was not even shown in the 32-page brochure (which is worth a read, and can be found here). While a Packard, the 110 was the, um, practical Packard. We have previously covered Packard’s first foray into the popular-priced market with the 1937 Packard Six (CC here), and this car was an updated version of the same model. Starting in 1940, the Six was renamed as the 110, in order to fit better within Packard’s model lineup that went upwards through the 120, 160 and the big 180.
Packard built only a few hundred 110 station wagons out of a total 110 production of over 62,000 cars. I guess this was one way to own a coachbuilt car for the price of a Buick. Or even an Oldsmobile, which seems to have been Packard’s target for the 110 according to some of its sales materials (which can be read in their entirety here).
Packard had, by 1940, positioned itself as a solid player in the medium price range. George Christopher had been brought in as Vice President of Manufacturing in the mid ’30s in order to make this happen. As a former production man at Buick and Pontiac, volume production of medium priced cars was what he knew, and what he believed would be necessary for Packard to survive. It is hard to dispute that the eight-cylinder 120 and the Six/110 probably did pull Packard through the Great Depression, which had even much larger concerns like Studebaker on the ropes. Packard trumpeted these cars as the results of its Four Year Plan to modernize the company and its products. There was probably a need to hurry, because a Five Year Plan would likely have sounded way too much like Soviet Communism, which would probably not have pulled in a lot of buyers in the demographic that Packard sought.
These cars were not involved with one of Christopher’s production moves which would eventually come back to haunt Packard–the 1940 decision to subcontract body construction to Briggs Manufacturing. Christopher had no way of knowing that Chrysler would buy Briggs in 1953, forcing Packard to come up with a substitute source of bodies on fairly short notice. But in 1940, Packards would benefit from Briggs’ experience in building all-steel bodies. But apart from the steel-bodied volume models, the small number of wooden bodies would continue to be sourced from elsewhere.
The contract for wooden bodies would be switched in the middle of the 1940 model year. Early cars in the Eighteenth Series (Packard would not adopt actual model years until well after the Second World War) were constructed by J. T. Cantrell of Huntington Station, New York, which had supplied Packard with wooden bodies since 1937. The Cantrell bodies were of mahogany framing with either white maple or yellow birch veneer panels. Later models were the products of the Hercules Body Company of Evansville, Indiana, which supplies a different look of mahogany panels set into an ash framework. This car looks to be one of the 322 Hercules- bodied cars built in 1940. Both of these companies are examined in quite a bit of detail at Coachbuilt.com.
Most of us have seen those sad pictures of the long-derelict Packard Plant on East Grand Boulevard in Detroit, including that iconic overhead walkway that connected two of the buildings. But have we ever seen pictures of that part of the factory when it was fresh and new and something to brag about? I get the same feeling of melancholy looking at the old factory photos as I get in looking at this car, as the 1940 model would be the last new design of Packard station wagon that could hold it’s head high at the country club. The postwar “Station Sedan” (a curious combination of mostly steel with a wooden bustle) and the Studebaker-sourced wagon of Packard’s final two years were decidedly lacking in the kind of “old money” appeal that had been been Packard’s thing for so long.
With 1940 bringing a new model, it would have been a good year to buy a Packard. Actually, 1940 would have been a good year to buy almost any new car, given that new vehicle production would be suspended very early in the 1942 model year and not resumed until late 1945. The folks who chose a Packard in 1940 chose well, as Packard was still a very, very well-built car.
This particular Packard must have met its buyer’s expectations, because the car remains in the family of the original owner all these decades later. It is true that every car has a story, but this one undoubtedly has quite a few to tell. I would have loved the chance to “ask the man who owns one”, but that man (or woman) was busy with a steakburger and milkshake and did not come out while I was photographing their car.
And photographing.
And photographing.
This is one of those cars that just teems with little touches that are worthy of note. Piano hinges on the doors?
Spare tire mounted on the back of the front seat?
A fascinating little handle on the very un-Packard-like hood ornament? All here, and among the little facets of this gem that grabbed my attention.
It is not every day that any of us comes across a prewar Woody Wagon that is largely original, and a super-low production Packard at that. It’s kind of funny that I found this one at the Steak n Shake a block away from the McDonalds where I found the 1937 Packard Six a couple of years earlier. Of course, with the wagon being the much more expensive car when new, the upgrade in burger joints should be expected. I can tell you that this car made my day when I stumbled across it, and hopefully it will brighten your day as well.
Further Reading:
1937 Packard Six (JPCavanaugh)
1937 Packard Super 8 (Richard Wayman)
Just ~ wow .
Packards have always been up there to me , this one looks so nice .
-Nate
I like these old Packards theres quite a little fleet of sedans doing Art Deco tours here so they are a regular sight but the only woody wagon Ive seen was the one that turned up for art deco weekend a 39 which was the last year of new car sales here due to outbreak of WW2 in sept 39.
That 39 shows the different style of the Cantrell body. I still have questions about this one in that most photos of Hercules bodied cars show lighter framing and darker panels. Is this just an owner’s choice in finishing or different woods used?
I saw the picture in one of your comments yesterday and was amazed at the CC effect at full power. 🙂
Great find. That walkway does prompt a modicum of melancholia; fortunately the car is holding up very well but those buildings are too sad.
Is that the correct place for the spare tyre?
Yes, isn’t that an odd place for a spare? The longer wheelbase eight cylinder 120 mounted the spare on the right front fender.
Excellent photographs! You’ve caught the richness of the wood that must have justified the purchase and maintenance of these wagons.
I’ve always wondered why Packard and Caddy didn’t use wood in their dashboards in this era. They had access to skilled carpenters, and they had examples from British luxury cars. Instead, both makers simplified and uglified their metal dashboards after 1937. This dash (and Caddy’s in the same year) looks cheaper than Dodge’s dash of the same year.
The American market was all about mass production and keeping costs in line wherever possible.
And in this era, Packard was still in the midst of trying to bring down their costs, having found that the cost-no-object bespoke model was no longer sustainable.
Looked more hi- tech too! The metal and plastic said car of the future more than polished walnut.
Excellent find & photography JP.
Interesting that one of the “negative” features of the Olds was “radical appearance changes” aparently that means GM moved the headlights into the fenders?
Also, its way too early to be craving Chili Mac.
Maybe it was those squared-off windows?
A concours car being driven and parked at a diner? I think my head just broke.
That spare tire is mighty inconveniently placed, both for backseat passengers and for anyone who needs to actually use that spare.
VW buses used to have it there too. Given the large diameter of these tires then, the choices were apparently limited. The rear seat is obviously situated back a bit to make it work. These weren’t exactly designed to be luxurious in their accommodations.
On my Peugeot 504, the spare was carried horizontally in a tray under the trunk. You cranked the tray up and down with the jack handle. Best spare-tire arrangement I’ve ever seen. I’m sure Paul will be able to tell us if the 404 had the same arrangement. Of course, I don’t know if something like this would have worked on the Packard.
Fifties Austin Cambridges had a similar setup. As a kid I saw one dumped with the tray down; thought it was a neat idea, better than having it hogging trunk space.
My Superminx has the wheel carrier under the rear floor and the tool compartment is in the tailgate jack wheel brace and crank start handle no need to unload in the event of a flat.
A car like this Packard is three-dimensional poetry. Of all Packard’s, the ones from this particular series are the ones that have best captured my fancy. A wagon is simply the cherry on the whipped cream on the bowl of high quality ice cream.
Outstanding!
Absolutely love that car.
Watched The Bells of St Mary’s last night, that looks exactly like something Bing Crosby would have driven back in the day.
Fine article, thanks for giving a rare car a much-deserved feature.
A couple points of correction at the time this ’40 110 Station Wagon was built: Max Gilman was elevated to company president in 1939 when Alvan Macauley became chairman of the board. Gilman was promoted from the sales division to become Vice President of Distribution in 1932 but primarily to spearhead the 120 project for 1935 introduction. To head his new staff charged with volume production, George Christopher was hired in 1934 as Vice-President of Manufacturing. Christopher had managed manufacturing for both Buick and Pontiac, was highly affective in changing Packard into a higher-volume producer.
Christopher ascended to company president in 1942 after a scandal brewed with Max Gilman. The incident began when Gilman drove his Packard into an open manhole, sustaining significant injuries, while accompanied by the wife of an executive of Packard’s advertising agency. Such unseemly shenanigans weren’t tolerated in upper management then, Macauley requested and received Gilman’s resignation, then promptly promoted Christopher to company president.
George Christopher, for all this manufacturing savvy, didn’t care for Packard’s luxury car lines (“that goddamn Senior stuff”) or the drag they exerted on his volume production objectives. Once in full charge postwar, he directed the company to try to become a truly high-volume manufacture as were his erstwhile GM divisions, emphasizing the Clipper Sixes and Deluxe Eight lower-priced lines. Hampered by steel and material shortages and labor unrest, high production goals went unfulfilled.
Only with the later part of the 22nd Series (1948-early 1949) production were his all-out volume goals reached, right at the time the seller’s market turned, buyer’s had multiple choices of truly new cars from the Big Three. Ignoring that reality, unsold cars accumulated, resulted in three million dollars allotted to clearance the backlog, at no profit, of course. It finally came to a head when an Operating Committee developed within to bypass Christopher’s authority, put a stop to the over-production of the current 23rd Series (late 1949-1950), asked for and received Christopher’s resignation in October 1949. Old George whose knowledge and savvy had done so much to help Packard survive turned into a massive deficit that set the company on the path to its demise.
Thanks for this information. I have made some changes to the text of the article. I was so busy running down issues involving the wagon bodies that I didn’t remember the Max Gillman episode or his brief tenure as President.
Thanks for filling a hole in my knowledge, I wondered how a low-volume luxury make like Packard could’ve mastered mass-production so quickly. Just as in other industries, talented men spread the knowledge around when they change employers.
Another example: Pratt & Whitney became an instant force in aircraft engines when Frederick Rentschler got fed up with Wright Aeronautical in 1924, joined Pratt, & convinced them to change product lines, resulting in the Wasp radial.
Glad to share the historical information, Packard has interesting details that bear passing along for context.
BTW, the wire bail hood ornament is the standard Packard unit. A functional version was fitted when radiators were still exposed. Various decorative mascots took their place when the buyer wanted something more upscale.
“Ask The Man Who Owns One…or his stable hands and cabinetmakers, as The Man has better things to do than talk to you slobs.”
They’d rather you didn’t for the last ones sadly .I’ve had an interest in Packards since I saw Lancahire comedienne Hylda Baker in one in the west End of London in the early 60s and a few months later in Cleveleys near Blackpool.
Nice find and write up thank you
Seems somewhat unusual in that the spare resides behind the front seat.
Great find JP. Could you possibly locate a Unicorn to add to my menagerie.
Years ago there were two Packards sharing a garage on my parents street. Never saw a wagon and certainly not a woody wagon. Packards were fairly scarce even during the early fifties when I was becoming really aware.
Great article.
I’ve always had a thing for the elephantine Station Sedan…Gilmore Museum has a nice green one.
As far as this beautiful ’40 is concerned, it’s tough not to feel a little sad looking at it. Being the six-cylinder model, its existence is one of the reasons Packard eventually failed, although it’s pretty tough to blame the downmarket trend entirely.
Two very different but equally rare finds this morning; or should I say three, with the Pinto cruising Wagon? What a handsome car these old stately Packards are, even the lowly six.
Wow. What an amazing car, especially to find out for a Sunday drive! Just beautiful.
Wow, man….just WOW. This thing is like a work of art. Real woodies are always an impressive sight. And seeing one this well preserved is nothing short of amazing!
It was a woody that made me realize just how cool a wagon can be. A Hotwheels ’40 Ford hotrod surf woody , but still. And youre right…maintaining this thing would be a nightmare.
Speaking of the Packard plant. If you look at an aerial pic of the complex, you will notice the building at the north end, next to the freeway, looks in much better condition than the rest of it. That part is building 22, which was built during WWII for final assembly of Merlin engines.
Building 22, which was owned by a different party than the rest of the complex, has a new owner, who has renovated the building and moved his company in. The company had an open house yesterday, which the local news covered.
http://www.wxyz.com/news/region/detroit/display-group-becomes-first-company-to-move-in-as-rehab-of-the-packard-plant-moves-forward
The Packard Merlin could’ve been the Ford Merlin if Henry was more agreeable, for Edsel was in favor of it. But Rolls made a good choice in licensing Packard, who had experience with the Liberty engine before.
Bandleader Guy Lombardo somewhere in greater NYC, 1947 or 1948. Nice convertible, but I post it for the two wagons out on the street:
Cool picture. The one at the end of the driveway is a late 40s Buick. The other looks like built on a Chevy truck? And wow, did my Grandma love his band. Guy Lombardo was the band for adults who hated those stupid young singers like that Frank Sinatra kid. I should have figured he would drive a Buick. 🙂
It is indeed a station wagon mounted on the Chevrolet Advanced-Design truck chassis. Cantrell built on all makes of light truck chassis as well as any cars so ordered. A few Chevrolet, Studebaker, International and Dodge station wagons by Cantrell are still extant.
One more, JPC and Paul: Packard dealership (1947 I think), with showroom display of the men “roughing it,” etc. What fun!
Did you notice the folding wood “pillows”? Look real comfy…
Another great picture that shows the back 2/3 of a Packard Station Sedan. The car would have been no older than a 1948 model and no newer than a ’50, which was Packard’s first “new” poswtar car. Although the wood around the C and D pillars works well with the metal body in the back, I never liked those two big wooden squares that were so artlessly stuck on the side doors.
JPC and PN: Here’s the source (Tampa, 1948)–happy to share with others interested in this stuff:
http://digitalcollections.hcplc.org/cdm/singleitem/collection/p15391coll1/id/11429/rec/2
What a car. After looking at these pictures for a minute, I realized from the interior view that the steel roof stops right around the area of the B-pillar (the term “post” was never more accurate!). The first cross-beam goes over the steel roof, then the last would form the back, along with some other material to attach the top tail gate. Then the heavy canvas roof covering seals water from the roof… Never having seen one, I hadn’t realized how much of a woody’s body is wooden.
It is remarkable to have the opportunity to consider marketing ideas and carriage-style craftsmanship while looking at a single car. The combination of the imposing front and spartan, but attractive controls and cabin is interesting, too.
Great story and pictures. To think about such a beautiful, rare car being in the same family for 75 years…definitely makes my day.
The wheels & tires look a bit small; changed to 15-inch?
I’m loving Wagon Week, and I’ll be sorry to see it end. This beautiful Packard is the definite highlight! I suppose you could have titled this post “Ask The Family Who Owns One, And Probably Always Will.” Oh, wait a sec. There’s no pun in that title. A Cavanaugh post with no puns would be sort of like a zebra with no stripes.
I must have missed this one on the first go-round. What a great post, pictures, and sentiment. Being born in the 70’s, I have to really use my imagination to fathom just how prestigious Packard was at one time. I wonder what a modern Packard (not made to look retro) would look like in present day.
I was at America’s Packard Museum in Dayton, Ohio about three years ago, and now I want to see if I saw any station wagons while I was there. I also appreciated learning the etymology of “station wagon”. I get it now! Thanks, JPC.
Wood maintenance is no joke. I used to crew a sailboat with teak rails and deck trim. Every four weeks we would fly in a couple of Antiguan varnishers to treat the wood. They would mask the boat, sand the teak, apply a coat and then remove the masking. The next day they would mask the boat and repeat the process. They removed the masking every day just in case the owner happened to materialize. The boat always had to look perfect. In a year and a half on the boat, I spent something less than twenty days with the owner, but one must be safe.
That’s the palest mahogany I’ve seen.
Our Steak n Shake went bust a few years ago. It was squeezed between Hooters, Chick Fil A, and Golden Corral.
Fan-blast cooling tunnels?
Other than lacking those, the Olds looks several years ahead of the Packard. Plus, it has tunnels front and rear.
Consumer’s Research Bulletin for February 1938 (Annual Automobile Number) put it this way:
“Obtaining a free flow of air from under the hood has become a problem since the engine accessories are filling the passage under the toe board and the trend is to omit the ventilating louvers. Packard and Ford are stamping a tunnel in the splash shield, to conduct the air out under the front fenders.”
Probably the gas tank was there and they weren’t doing a lot of reengineering for the station wagon version.
I don’t know about others, but GM Plasticvans had the 504 style spare tire arrangement. No tray, just a small plate at the end of the cable, and a space saver spare of course. One day I discovered my spare had disappeared. There was no plate remaining on the end of the cable – rusted off no doubt. Somehow the van pooped it out without being noticed, except maybe by following cars.