Remembering Kelly Mehler – FineWoodworking

3 November 2025 Stan

Frequent contributor to Fine Woodworking magazine, Kelly Mehler (1949– October 5, 2025) devoted his life to the craft of woodworking and the sharing of knowledge. His career spanned more than 28 years, marked by a rare blend of craftsmanship, teaching, and generosity.

Kelly’s formal training began in 1974 at the University of Cincinnati’s Ohio College of Applied Science, followed by studies in Industrial Arts at Berea College in Kentucky, where he was mentored by the legendary woodturner Rude Osolnik. That mentorship shaped Kelly’s deep respect for both the process and the people behind fine craftsmanship.

In 1978, Kelly opened his furniture-making shop in Berea, a town known for its thriving community of artisans. There, he built timeless furniture and established the Kelly Mehler School of Woodworking, now called Berea College’s Woodworking School at Pinecroft, where students come from across the country to attend. Throughout his career, Kelly’s influence reached far beyond his shop doors. He wrote The Tablesaw Book: a trusted resource for countless woodworkers, and contributed more than a dozen articles to Fine Woodworking and other publications.

Kelly Mehler leaves behind a legacy of craftsmanship, education, and kindness. His work continues to shape workshops and inspire woodworkers everywhere who learned from his words, his teaching, and his enduring love for the craft. Andy Glenn, Peter Galbert, and Brian Boggs share their memories of Kelly below.

Andy Glenn

Kelly Mehler passed away on Sunday, October 5, 2025. Kelly was a fixture in Berea, KY, and known nationally within the woodworking community through his school (The Kelly Mehler School of Woodworking), his table saw book, and numerous magazine contributions.

I’m grateful to have known Kelly, and to have counted him as a friend. Most people felt that way around Kelly. Generosity and kindness radiated from him.

Our family met the Mehler’s early in our time in Berea. Kelly invited us over to their home, and the Mehler’s pointed us towards other young families and woodworkers within Berea. Teri took an immense interest in our kids and family.

Then Kelly invited me to his shop/school for a visit. It’s now Pine Croft. This was before Pine Croft was an idea.

The shop was immaculate. The machines were in perfect order. There was no dust (how does a shop have no dust?!?…Kelly kept it in pristine condition). The machine room was downstairs – mostly Felder machines, as Kelly would describe himself as a “machine” woodworker (he had strong hand skills as well…though he downplayed those whenever we talked woodworking).

The benchroom was the upstairs. About a dozen benches of different styles. This was the handwork teaching space, with windows wrapping the building. Kelly taught plenty of classes, and he invited guest instructors to the space as well. The bench room is up in the trees, surrounded by woods and the foothills of Appalachia, with a bubbling creek running behind the shop. It’s about perfect.

The sound of birds was a constant at the shop. Kelly and Teri would watch and chronicle them during their migratory visits through Berea. Birds, creek, woods. It was a woodworking sanctuary for visitors.

During my years in Berea, the college purchased the property and restarted the woodworking school (now named The Woodworking School at Pine Croft). I was to run it, following Kelly in his space.

I was excited, honored, and intimidated. Kelly built the space to his liking, which made it such a welcoming and unique shop. Many of the students who took classes came to Berea because of Kelly (and Teri). The Mehler’s generosity drew in others.

How do I know this? The students told me.

My nerves were appropriate but ultimately unfounded. Kelly supported me at every turn. He put in kind words with his former students. He showed me how to best operate all the equipment, and how the shop best functioned. We built a few pieces of furniture together, in the space, so that I could go through the paces. And then he taught one of the first classes at Pine Croft, which was filled with longtime friends and returning students, to help get the school going again.

Fast forward a few years. Our family had returned to Maine. I was running Pine Croft from a distance (dumb, operating the school from Maine, but necessary to keep things going during those early years of Pine Croft).

I would bunch a handful of classes together on the schedule, then I’d return to Berea for a 3 or 4 weeks stretch to run the shop. Always upon returning to Berea, as pulled off Big Hill Road and traveled down the long lane towards the woodworking school, I would find that Kelly and Teri were already there, waiting for me to arrive. They’d be pulling weeds, picking up sticks, freshening the flower beds, and opening the windows to let the breeze through. They were there to lend a hand without being asked.

Kelly would then offer a day’s help. He wanted to assist with the class preparations. So we’d mill and clean and work together in the days before classes started. He’d usually ask for some machine work, and I’d share with him the plan. Then Kelly would head out, purchase the supplies, and get to work. Inevitably, as he helped, I would learn from him.

This was all volunteer work, done out of kindness.

He’d help with everything. Time to clean and vacuum out the dust collector? Kelly’s there with his dust mask and glasses. The switch on the bandsaw is acting spotty? Kelly’s there to take a look. Where can we find thick basswood at late notice? Kelly’s driving me to his spot in Lexington.

This is how he treated people, and how he shared himself.

The big smile and welcoming presence were packaged with an immense amount of woodworking talent. He didn’t lead with it…he inquired about you, about your work, about your health. But if you looked over his shoulder, or glanced at his bench, you’d see something beautiful.

If my memory is correct, Kelly started in a furniture shop in Cincinnati (after a stretch at selling cars). From Cincy, he went to Berea College and worked within their furniture program for a year. Kelly had talent, so the shop staff gave him a key and he came in to work as much as he liked. Then he opened his first shop, in a barn, in Mount Vernon (a few miles south of Berea). With no heat, it was a rough go. Things were tight. But he continued on.

Soon after, his shop moved into Berea and Kelly operated a shop/showroom on Berea’s main street (where the library currently stands). Showroom out front, shop in the back. Then, maybe 20 years ago, Kelly built his shop in the trees.

His work was exquisite. He filled their house with it and shared it with others.

Andy Glenn’s Substack can be found here.

Peter Galbert

I’m heartbroken to be mourning the loss of Kelly Mehler. Kelly was very unassuming and humble, but his impact was huge. Some of you may not know Kelly, his school in Berea, Kentucky closed years ago when he began having health issues and was reborn as PineCroft . Besides being an amazing furniture maker and educator, his influence on the woodworking community has been profound, especially to me. He was an early supporter of myself, Greg Pennington, Chris Schwarz… the list goes on. I’ve always referred back to Kelly in conversation when complimented about my teaching environment. Kelly set the gold standard for how a school should run. He paid the instructors very well and focused on ensuring it was a happy and welcoming place to learn and teach. I model my own environment after what I learned from him and his wonderful wife Teri. Greg and I shared many of fun times at their place. It was always a highlight of my year to teach there and spend time with Kelly and Teri. Whenever I’d ask Kelly, “How ya doin?” he’d reply, “So good I feel guilty”. His joy and energy were infectious.

There are only a few people I’ve met that I still describe as “When I grow up, I want to be like them”, Kelly is on top of that list. His kindness, good humor and skill shone brightly. I’m so grateful for his generosity and example.

Peter Galbert’s Substack can be found here.

Brian Boggs

I met Kelly in 1981, when I was a student at Berea College. His shop, The Treefinery, occupied a prime spot on Main Street—impossible to miss for a young guy with furniture making on his mind. Not long after I left college, Kelly hired me to help prep for one of the local craft shows. It was just a temporary gig, but it offered a good glimpse into the life of a furniture maker who knew how to keep things fun.
Money wasn’t really the goal; it was more about a way of living—maybe just life itself. Even under a tight show deadline, the atmosphere in the shop was lighthearted, a direct reflection of its owner. Looking back over more than forty years of knowing Kelly, every memory includes him smiling, and usually laughing. And that was true even when life wasn’t easy.
Berea was—and still is—a small town. When my first wife, Pat, and I started our family, there was exactly one birthing coach in town: Kelly’s wife, Teri. She was a wonderful coach and a huge support for us, which kept us even more connected to the Mehlers. Over time, I grew to admire both Kelly and Teri for their deep integrity and their wholehearted way of living.
As a young chairmaker, I often turned to Kelly for advice about finding my footing in the professional woodworking world. Years later, it was an honor when he invited me to teach at his school. Kelly Mehler’s School of Woodworking was, in every way, a reflection of the man himself—small, tidy, welcoming, and filled with good humor and joy for everyone who came through the door.
Memories of Kelly hold a warm place in my heart. He remains a steady source of inspiration for how to live well, laugh easily, and approach both craft and life with sincerity and grace.