Beach Wagons, from last weeks Chronicle

[Karl F]

When Beach Driving Meant Freedom

New Book Recalls Era Of Beach Wagons In Chatham

by Debra Lawless

To generations, cars have spelled freedom. In Chatham, a few decades ago, if you owned a beach wagon, you could spend magical hours or days on remote beaches fishing and camping.

“The gods of the sea favor the fisherman who goes to the shore in a wooden wagon,” is a translation of an “ancient Roman proverb” with which the book “Beach Wagons in Chatham” (2005) begins.

“Who doesn’t love the beach? We’ve had a wonderful gift to spend a youth and adulthood on Chatham’s beaches,” says John Hutchinson, co-author and illustrator, with Ted Whittaker, of “Beach Wagons.”

Whittaker and Hutchinson, both third generation Chatham summer residents, met here in 1946 as boys and now, as adults, are linked by their shared memories and their love of beach wagons. It was a time when access to the beaches were uncontrolled, and nobody worried about closures because of nesting shorebirds.

The pair recently drove to a town landing in Chatham in the 1929 Ford Model A woodie that Whittaker restored. When he bought the car, which was once owned by the Massachusetts Audubon Society, it was painted inside and out.

“It took hours and hours to sand it down to make it look like it should have,” Whittaker says. Today, the car’s wood gleams under fresh coats of varnish. Inside, the canvas-topped ceiling is lined with basswood slats, also varnished. The horsehair seats, covered with leatherette, are surprisingly comfortable. The car easily seats six or seven.

“I have old friends who I talk about the good old days with,” says Whittaker, now in his 60s and a full-time Chatham resident. “Young people will never experience it.”

The book, illustrated with Hutchinson’s paintings of beach wagons and with photographs from the family collections of both men, will be sure to spark nostalgia in those old enough to recall the days of the wagons, affectionately called woodies, and also spark interest in those too young to recall them.

A woodie is an early station wagon in which the rear portion of the car’s bodywork is made of wood. Production of the cars ended in the late 1950s, at which point many fell into disrepair or were junked. Today a restored 1948 Ford woodie is selling on-line for $95,000.

Back in the teens and 1920s, summer resorts picked up their guests at the railroad station in station wagons and conveyed them to their hotels, Whittaker says. (The Chatham Bars Inn has two vintage woodies that are still used and which are often parked at the Shore Road entrance to the hotel.) While several people could sit in the front of the car, the back could hold their luggage.

“Back in the ‘30s we started to use beach wagons on the beach,” Whittaker recalls. The cars were roomy enough to convey people and their fishing and picnic gear. With no window but the windshield, the cars allowed cool air to flow through. “It was the optimum vehicle,” he adds.

Whittaker’s grandfather, Edwin Kidder, a Chatham selectman in the 1930s, gave lessons in surfcasting, which was then a relatively new sport. And in so doing, he became one of the first beach buggiers. Popular spots were North Beach, which you drove to through Orleans, and Monomoy, which meant a 20-minute ferry ride, with your car, across Stage Harbor to Morris Island.

“My father and mother, and John’s father and mother, they all kind of took up surfcasting from the buggies,” Whittaker says.

Whittaker often stayed overnight at friends’ camps on Monomoy. “Once in a while we might take a sleeping bag,” he recalls. “You could kind of hunker up under the running board.” Other people removed the rear seats from the wagons and slept there. Meals were cooked over camp stoves.

“It was a real society,” Whittaker says. “Everybody helped each other. It was very convivial. Sometimes four, five, six families would go down together and roost together.” When a car broke down, needed water or gas, or got stuck, 20 people pulling would “get you unstuck. It was a wonderful way of life.”

Whittaker learned to tinker with engines in his grandfather’s garage in West Chatham. As an adult, Whittaker ran a tr#^&#^&#^&#^&#^&g company for many years and lived in Wellesley. Meanwhile, Hutchinson established himself as a professional artist, based in Salem. Interestingly, both married speech therapists, and it was after their wives met at a professional conference about 20 years ago that the men rekindled their boyhood friendship.

From the 1930s into the early 1960s, the beach wagons of choice were the early Ford Model A’s with the V-8 engines, Whittaker says. The four-wheel drive didn’t yet exist, and driving on the beach took a lot of skill. “You could get stuck very easily if you didn’t know how to drive,” Whittaker says. “Those vehicles were the best to drive down the beach with oversized tires.”

“Driving down the beach raised hell with your automobile,” Hutchinson agrees. “Salt water was murder. Sand was murder on the brakes and engine.”

In 1958 Whittaker made his last beach wagon trip to Monomoy. Many factors ended the era of beach wagons and the freedom they represented. The men’s charming 16-page book will bring it all back for a moment.

Whittaker and Hutchinson will sign copies of “Beach Wagons in Chatham” at Yellow Umbrella Books in Chatham on Monday, July 23 from 1 to 3 p.m.