American History Tellers - The Ice King | Indian Summer | 4

Episode Date: January 7, 2026

After two turbulent decades in the ice trade, Frederic Tudor had finally made it. Expanding into the American South had paid off, with cities like New Orleans delivering steady profit. But Tudor’s insatiable appetite for risk kept pushing him to bet everything – again and again – even as losses mounted and disaster loomed.As he entered his 50s, Tudor seemed ready to slow down. But when he was offered the opportunity to ship his ice halfway around the world to India, he couldn’t resist expanding his business once more. And just when it seemed he had mastered the trade he built from nothing, one final gamble threatened to undo everything he’d spent decades building.Be the first to know about Wondery’s newest podcasts, curated recommendations, and more! Sign up now at https://wondery.fm/wonderynewsletterListen to American History Tellers on the Wondery App or wherever you get your podcasts. Experience all episodes ad-free and be the first to binge the newest season. Unlock exclusive early access by joining Wondery+ in the Wondery App, Apple Podcasts or Spotify. Start your free trial today by visiting wondery.com/links/american-history-tellers/ now.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Hey, history buffs, if you can't get enough of the captivating stories we uncover on American history tellers, you'll love the exclusive experience of Wondry Plus. Dive even deeper into the past with ad-free episodes, early access to new seasons, and bonus content that brings history to life like never before. Join Wondry Plus in the Wondry app or on Apple Podcast and embark on an unparalleled journey through America's most pivotal moments. Imagine it's January, 1835 in Boston, Massachusetts. You hurry along a downtown street, sweat trickling down your back, despite the cold winter air.

You skid around a final corner and finally reach your cousin Frederick Tudor's townhouse. Pound on the door with your fist and take a step back. After a moment, 51. year old Frederick opens the door. His eyes widen when he sees your face. William, you look like you've seen a ghost. Come in, it's terribly cold. Without a word, you brush past him into the parlor, where a newspaper lies folded on the table beside a steaming cup of coffee. Frederick follows you in a note of concern in his voice. Please sit down, William. Would you like something to drink? Frederick takes a seat across from you and adds a spoonful of sugar to his coffee and stirs it

slowly. You watch the swirling brown liquid, your stomach, churning. Oh, no, thank you. Well, is everything okay? What brings you here? Well, it's the coffee. Hi, I told you, have a cup. No, not that coffee. The market. The coffee market. For the past few years, you've made a living in the coffee trade. Buying and selling large quantities of beans for a profit,

but you've never actually set eyes on the coffee that you purchase. You're a futures trader. You agreed to buy coffee at a fixed price in the future, and then you profit when the price goes up more than you promise to buy it for. It's been such a lucrative source of income that recently you convinced your cousin Frederick to invest his own savings in coffee futures too. Frederick sets his cup down slowly. Coffee market? What's happened? The price of beans has crashed. Well, how's that? It's been climbing 30% a year. It was a bubble, apparently, and now it's just burst.

My payments are due, and I'm going to have to sell at a loss. Oh, how short are you? 200,000. Good Lord, William. I'm going to have to declare bankruptcy. I'm ruined. Frederick closes his eyes and exhales slowly, but you interrupt his thoughts. Frederick, you'll be taking a substantial loss as well. Well, I had the ice business as collateral. Will that be enough to see you through? I guess it has to be, because if it isn't, I'll lose everything, too. Frederick only invested his money in coffee because you urged him to,

so you feel dreadful delivering such bad news. You know the difficulties he had building his ice empire, And now, just as he's finally made a fortune, he might lose it all and it's all your fault. From Wondery, I'm Lindsay Graham, and this is American history tellers, our history, your story. By the time Frederick Tudor was in his early 40s, he'd weathered 20 years in the ice trade. After a first decade of struggling to establish a foothold in the Caribbean, he'd experienced a turning point when he expanded his business to the southern United States. There he found that the markets of sweltering port cities like New Orleans offered a more reliable and profitable income, and from that moment, Tudor's business began to thrive. But his journey to prosperity had not been an easy one, thanks to Tudor's enormous appetite for risk.

Time and again, Tudor had wagered everything in order to expand the ice trade and constantly encountered setbacks that nearly wiped him out. But through all, he persevered, relying on his supreme self-confidence and sheer determination to succeed. So by his early 50s, Tudor had begun to stake his hard-earned fortune on other high-reward but high-risk ventures, like coffee futures. And like all gamblers, Tudor discovered that he'd lose more often than he'd win. It would only be when Tudor settled down and stopped taking risks that he'd finally managed to secure the riches he'd spent a lifetime chasing. This is episode four in our four-parts series On the Ice King, Indian Summer. By 1824, Frederick Tudor had ice houses in South Carolina,

Georgia, Louisiana, and Cuba. Every year, the amount of ice sold, from his facilities increased, but Tudor soon hit a limit on how much he could sell. The demand was there, but he didn't have the supply to meet it. Five years earlier in 1819, Tudor's mother had sold the family estate at Rockwood, Massachusetts, to settle her late husband's debts. Ever since Tudor had been forced to harvest most of his ice from another source called Fresh Pond near Cambridge, Massachusetts. At 155 acres, Fresh Pond was larger than its name suggested. But while there was sufficient ice, in fresh pond to meet Tudor's needs, harvesting it was painfully slow. Collecting giant blocks of

ice by hand was backbreaking work. Hired laborers used pickaxes and chisels to hack the heavy blocks from the surface of the pond, then dragged or floated them to the shore. Once on land, more laborers set about shaping the ice into stackable units with two-man saws. It was arduous and time-consuming work. But while Tudor had come up with a technique to increase the amount of ice that formed in Fresh Pond, by drilling holes in the partially frozen surface to increase its thickness, he hadn't found a way to harvest the ice any faster. And now the glacial pace of securing his product was holding his company back. Imagine it's January 1824 at Fresh Pond. Despite the bitter cold, you strip off your coat and

toss it aside. For the past hour, you've been hacking away at the frozen surface cutting the ice into large chunks. For most of the year, you run a hotel on the banked for the pond, but in winter, when the tourists have gone for the season, you and your men turn your hand to harvesting ice for Frederick Tudor. The pay is good, but the work is punishing. But just as you're about to take another swing of your pickaxe, you hear a shout. Hey, you there! You turn to see Frederick Tudor picking his way gingerly onto the ice, taking small and careful steps to keep from slipping. You sit down your pickax, steam rising from your shoulders. Mr. Mr. Tudor, what brings you out here? I'm coming to see what's taking you so long. My ships

are idle in Boston Harbor. My ice houses are empty. We're waiting on you. Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Tudor, and the men are working as quickly as they can. Tudor looks over at one laborer who's put his pickaxe down and is wiping his sweaty brow with a claw. Oh, yeah? You sure about that? Tudor then shouts over to the man. You there, get on with it! As the man lifts his pickaxe and gets back to work, you guide Tudor back to the shore where ice is stacked in piles. Now, please, Mr. Tudor, this is hard work. And then do need to rest from time to time, but I promise you, we are working as fast as possible. Well, then what's causing the delay?

You've never asked for this much ice. Every year you need more, but we can't go any quicker. Well, maybe you should bring in more men. I already have every able-bodied man in the district. Well, there's $50,000 worth of ice floating in this pond, and I need it in Boston. It's a time-critical industry. Well, I don't know what you expect me to do, Mr. Tudor. Ice is ice.

we can't harvest it any quicker. Tudor stops to think, and his gaze drifts back to your hotel on the shore. You have empty rooms, don't you? Well, I do. Not many travelers passing through in winter. Well, good. I'll advertise for laborers in Boston and send them up here. Put them up in your hotel. I'll pay for the rooms, but as soon as they arrive, set them to work. I need that ice. Well, all right, sir, but if you're going to need that much ice every year, we're going to need a different solution in the long term. As you head back onto the frozen pond, you turn the problem over in your head. Tudor is right, the bottleneck in his supply chain is real, but you're not sure more men is going to fix it. So while you could use more muscle in the short term, in the long term, you're determined to solve this problem with brains, not brawn.

By increasing the number of workers harvesting ice at Fresh Pond, Frederick Tudor eventually obtained enough stock to supply his customers. But employing more workers from further afield cost more money, which reduced his profit margin. And the following winter, as the ice harvest season began again, Tudor prepared to recruit extra workers once more. But before he could, ice from fresh pond began arriving at Tudor's ice houses in Boston Harbor in greater quantities and frequency than usual. The holdup in his supply chain had unexpectedly disappeared. Tudor was of course pleased, but he was also puzzled. His meticulous diary suggested that nothing had changed. The weather was no different.

He wasn't paying for more labor. So Tudor decided to travel to Fresh Pond to see what had caused the sudden increase in supply. When Tudor arrived, he found an odd-looking plow being dragged across Fresh Pond by two horses. One of Tudor's ice-harvesters, hotelier Nathaniel Wyeth, explained that this peculiar contraption was his new invention, an ice-cutting machine. Wyeth had fashioned an adjustable metal blade and fitted it to a pre-oiette. plow that normally worked the fields in summer. Horses wearing spiked shoes pulled the machine across the ice, scoring a line into the surface. By cutting parallel lines at fixed intervals and another set of parallel lines at right angles, Wyeth marked a grid into the surface of the ice. Then the blade was

lowered, and the machine was dragged over the lines again. After repeating this process to gradually cut lower and lower, laborers used chisels to gouge large blocks from the frozen pond. The horse drawn blade was quicker than cutting the ice by hand, and since all the blocks were a uniform size and shape, they no longer needed to be refined with a saw. They were also in the perfect shape to stack and store. Tudor was impressed with Wyeth's ingenuity. With one stroke of his ice-cutting machine, Wyeth has slashed the limitations on Tudor's ice supply, and that winter, Tudor's ship set sail without having to wait in port, and his ice-houses in the tropics never ran short. So in return, Tudor rewarded Wyeth with a new title of Chief Ice Harvester

and a salary of $500 a year, a handsome sum at the time. But Tudor wasn't motivated simply by gratitude and generosity. He also hoped the lucrative wage would ensure that Wyeth and his revolutionary machine weren't lured away by a competitor. Now, with plenty of ice on hand, Tudor once again said about expanding his business. In 1827, he built a new, larger ice house in Charleston, South Carolina. He intended to build a bigger ice house in Savannah, Georgia, too, but ran out of time, though he did manage to find an existing warehouse and fit it with insulation to act as an

overflow storage unit that season. Then the following year, in 1828, Tudor predicted an even greater yield of ice. That's because Nathaniel Wyeth had been busy during the summer again, this time building a lifting platform that would speed up the process of getting the ice from the pond to the shore. Wyeth's ice lift looked like a giant balance scale with platforms that either end of a beam. When one side lowered into the water, the other rose into the air. Wyeth intended for an ice block to be floated onto the platform into the water, then it would

be lifted by a horse-drawn pulley. While laborers dragged the ice block off the raised platform, another team would float the next ice block onto the lowered platform. It was another ingenious device, and Wyeth and Tudor wanted to put it into action straight away, but in mid-December 1827, a low-pressure system settled over New England, wreaking havoc with the weather. One day, temperatures would plunge below freezing, but the next, they rose so high that Bostonians walked the streets in short sleeves. As a result of this unpredictable weather, the ice on fresh pond never thickened enough to use Wyeth's heavy ice-cutting machine, and the few blocks that were managed to be cut by hand weren't big enough for Tudor's needs. So by the end of January 1828, Tudor was back in

the situation he'd been in three years earlier. His ships were moored in Boston Harbor with empty holds, and there was no prospect of beginning the larger harvest on fresh pond. Desperate to find an alternative source of ice, Tudor and Wyeth scoured other bodies of water in Massachusetts. They found a few shaded ponds where temperatures had fallen low enough for thick ice to form, but they were few and far between. None were as large as fresh pond, and none were set up for large-scale ice harvesting. In the end, the only viable option they found was Swain's pond north of Boston. But getting there was a nightmare. There was a nightmare. There was a only one narrow path that led to it, which was blocked by a large boulder. Even after they

blew up this rock with gunpowder to remove it, the surface of the path was rutted and slow, and as a result, an impatient wagon driver pulled down a fence and drove a shortcut through a farmer's orchard. Meanwhile, Tudor's laborers chopped down the farmer's trees near the pond's shoreline to give them room to work. Upon discovering this destruction of his property, the farmer demanded that Tudor pay him compensation. At the same time, the wagon driver's Tudor had employed realized that they had him over a barrel and hiked their fees. It was too much for Tudor. Whatever ice he would be able to get from Swain's pond wasn't worth the cost of harvesting it. So within only a few days of arriving, Tudor and Wyeth abandoned their plans, leaving a trail

destruction behind them. Eventually, Tudor decided to send Wyeth 150 miles north to the Kennebec River in Maine, which was completely iced over. But it took time for Wyeth to pack up his ice-cutting machine and travel there. By the time he arrived, it was the end of February, and Tudor's ships were still in port. With his ice houses in the tropic sitting empty, Tudor repeatedly wrote to Wyeth imploring greater urgency. As a result, Wyeth and his laborers worked from dawn to dusk, and with the ice-cutting machine at their disposal, they made quick progress. They were also lucky because the air temperature in Maine remained below freezing, meaning they didn't even need to put the ice they

harvested in an icehouse. They just covered it with straw and wood and loaded the cargo straight from the riverbank onto boats for transport. After a frantic few weeks, Wyeth returned home, and despite the unseasonably warm winter, Wyeth's ingenuity and hard work meant by the end of March 1828, Tudor had managed to supply every one of his ice houses. And although profits dipped slightly compared to the previous year, the following year they recovered. Tudor's business resumed its upward trajectory so that by the end of the 1820s, Tudor was exporting over 4,000 tons of ice a year, a three-fold increase over the previous decade. And now that the supply chain was no longer a limiting factor, Tudor had more ice than he needed

to sustain his markets in the United States and the Caribbean. This glut meant he could now set his sights farther afield, much, much farther. In pursuit of even greater success, Frederick Tudor would look to send his ice halfway around the world. Hello American History Tellers, listeners. I have an exciting announcement. I am going on tour, coming to a theater near you. The very first show will be at the Granada Theater in Dallas, Texas on March 6th. It's going to be a thrilling evening of history, storytelling, and music with a full band behind me

as we look back to explore the days that made America. And they aren't the days you might think. Sure, everyone knows July 4th, 1776. but there are many other days that are maybe even more influential. So come out to see me live in Dallas, or for information on tickets and upcoming dates, go to American History Live.com. That's American History Live.com.

Come see my days that made America tour live on stage. Go to American History Live.com. Imagine it's April 1833. and you're in a tavern in Boston, Massachusetts. You hand a few coins to the bartender and then take your drink, eyes scanning the room. You're not a regular here, but the man you're looking for is Frederick Tudor rents a modest apartment close to the Customs House on State Street,

and where it is, he likes to come to this bar to enjoy quiet drink after work. Soon enough, you spot Tudor alone at a corner table, so you make your way over and slide into a seat across from him. Mind if I join you, Mr. Tudor? He looks up, his eyes narrowing, then, softening in recognition. Oh, I know you, Mr. Austin, isn't it? Please, yes, please, have a seat. Well, I hope you don't mind me disturbing you, but you're quite the celebrity in the custom house. The man who made his money in ice. Celebrity, eh? Well, not long ago, I was a laughing stock.

I proved them all wrong, didn't I? Well, I certainly admire what you've done, yes. In fact, I have a proposal that I think you might be interested in. Next week, my partner and I have a ship coming into Boston with a cargo of Indian spices. But when it heads back to India, it's going to be empty. Normally, the captain loads stones as balanced, but that's got no value. It just gets dumped into the sea before the ship docks. So I was thinking, maybe ice can be your ballast. Exactly. If we have to load the ship down for a voyage to India, why not use something we can sell when we get there? Tudor leans back in his chair and folds his arms. Well, 20 years ago, I'd have jumped to the chance. But now? Well, I've had some bad experiences exporting ice to the wrong locations. Lost a lot of money.

I learned to trust my own instincts, not someone else's. And what are your instincts telling you now? Well, there's no doubt India's a large market. The British colonials out there must be roasting, but it's a long way from here. Yes, but it's a new era, Mr. Tudor, the world is shrinking. You might be surprised to hear that my ships can get there in only four months. Tudor shakes his head. Well, even so, four months on board a ship, I'm too old to be traipsing halfway around the world.

Well, you won't need to. My partner, William Rogers, will be our man on the ground. Tudor falls silent, lost in thought, and you wait, heart thudding, fingers cross beneath the table. After a long pause, Tudor leans forward, he picks up his glass. Well, maybe it's this drink talking, but, well, all right. Bring the figures to me tomorrow, and we'll take a look. Oh, great news. You tap your glass against Tudors, but then he pauses, buying your drink with distaste.

Oh, there's just one problem. And what's that? Your whiskey. How can you drink it without any ice? You grin leaning back in your chair. You've done what you came to do. Tudor's experience will be invaluable to your new venture, even if he doesn't yet realize that you have no intention

of making this a long-term partnership. After years of aggressive expansion in the Caribbean and along the southern Atlantic coast, Frederick Tudor found the opportunity to expand all the way to India all too enticing. Tudor believed that if he played his cards right, India, then known as the jewel of the British Empire, would become a vital part of his business empire too. But the distance from Boston to India was a staggering 16,000 miles, and the four-month

journey to get there was far longer than any ice ship had sailed before. Tudor's new partner in the scheme, Samuel Austin, would provide the ship, but Tudor knew from experience that it wouldn't simply be a matter of loading ice and hoping for the best. The ship carrying his product would need to cross the equator twice during its voyage, and air temperatures would peak at more than 100 degrees. Tudor couldn't imagine a more hostile environment for a cargo of ice, so if he was to make any money on this Indian expedition, he had to prevent as much of the ice melting as possible. That meant Tudor would need to outfit the merchant ship carrying the ice, the Tuscany, before it sailed, and he set about putting the knowledge he gained over the past

three decades to use. He instructed laborers to add an insulating second skin to the cargo hold, leaving a one-inch gap between the hull and the new planks. He then had them line the internal hulls with sawdust, dry hay, and animal skins. Only then did he fill the hold with 180 tons of ice. And once the hole was sealed, Tudor gave the crew strict instructions not to open it under any circumstances. If they did as he said, Tudor estimated that two-thirds of the ice would last the voyage. On May 12, 1833, the Tuscany set sail and arrived in Calcutta on September 13th. Only then did Austin's business partner William Rogers open the hold, and he found that 120 tons of ice had survived the trip. Tudor's predictions that two-thirds of

the cargo would make it was spot on. And after the Tuscany docked in Calcutta, the city's newspapers hailed the arrival of American ice as a monumental event. The British officials who ran the East India Company were accustomed to a much colder climate back in Britain, and the stifling heat in India left them desperate to find ways to keep cool. They had few options, however. One solution they'd found was to hang wet blankets across windows as a makeshift form of air conditioning. Another involved servants pulling ropes to operate rudimentary ceiling fans. But neither of these methods did much against the oppressive subtropical heat.

As a result, every weekend, Calcutta's roads were gridlocked with British officials seeking the cooler air of the hills or the sea breeze on the coast. But now, thanks to the arrival of a shipment of ice, residents of Calcutta could cool down in the city itself, with the help of chill drinks and ice cream. By December 1833, the shipment of ice had run out and the Indian venture had grossed $10,000. With the prospect of profits like that, Tudor hoped to send another ship straight away.

But in April 1834, Tudor was shocked to learn that Samuel Austin had moved forward without him. Austin had already bought a load of ice from a rival merchant and dispatched the Tuscany back to Calcutta, cutting Tudor out. That's when Tudor realized he'd been played. It became clear that Austin had only partnered with him to gain his in-depth knowledge of how to transport ice, and now that Austin knew Tudor's trade secrets, he intended to freeze them out

of the Indian market. But Tudor was not about to let this betrayal stand. He hastily chartered a different merchant ship, loaded it up with 150 tons of ice, and ordered its captain to chase the Tuscany to India. But Tudor was at a disadvantage. He had no local contacts in India, so he hired a young Boston merchant named Marcus Bacon to accompany the shipment and act as his representative in Calcutta. But that wasn't all. He also gave Bacon orders to do whatever it took to undermine Austin's business. Tudor was declaring war on his one-time partner. But the first battle of this war went Austin's way. The Tuscany won the race to India and docked first. Tudor's ship lagged far behind, its steering damaged in a storm around the Cape of Good Hope. What should have been a four-month voyage,

took five and a half, and by the time Bacon and his ship limped into Calcutta, only two tons of ice remain, barely one percent of the original cargo. So instead of managing sales, Bacon turned his attention to his secondary mission, undermining the opposition. He presented Tudor's credentials to Calcutta's governor and asked for Tudor to be granted the exclusive rights to import ice into the city. Bacon persuaded the governor that Tudor had a long and successful history as an ice trader, whereas Samuel Austin was an unreliable upstart who lacked experience. This argument worked. The governor granted Tudor the exclusivity he wanted, and Austin was barred from importing any more ice. With these exclusive rights secured, Bacon then

commissioned a purpose-built ice house and wrote to Tudor with the good news. For Tudor, the gamble of funding a solo Indian voyage paid off. The loss of one ship's cargo was unfortunate, but he could afford the temporary setback. The promise of exclusivity was far more important. So Tudor immediately filled another ship with ice and sent it to India. This time, most of its cargo survived, and the Indian newspapers celebrated the arrival from the man they'd started calling the Ice King. Soon, Tudor had multiple ships traveling to and from India. He had won the war with Samuel Austin, and it was a good thing, too, because he'd soon need all the extra income he could get. By the early 1800s, Americans had become obsessed with coffee. Ever since,

Since the Boston Tea Party and the American Revolution, coffee had surged in popularity compared to tea, and the American taste for coffee received another boost when cheaper beans began to arrive from newer coffee-producing nations. By the 1820s, around 80 million pounds of coffee beans were imported from South and Central America every year. Dozens of new coffee houses sprang up in cities all along the East Coast and demand was only expected to grow. Many merchants, including Tudor, saw a chance to make a fortune. But while Tudor saw a lucrative opportunity, he wasn't inclined to become a coffee importer himself, preferring to maintain a focus on his thriving ice export business. Instead, he saw a simpler

way to make a profit from the coffee craze in futures trading. Rather than handle the physical trading himself, Tudor promised to buy a coffee dealer's beans at a fixed price before the harvest and then sold them on before they ever reached America. Assuming the price of coffee beans increased in the intervening time, Tudor would make a profit. But future tradings was a risky business. It only worked when the price went up. If the price went down, Tudor would take a loss. Still, with the demand for coffee exponentially increasing, coffee futures seemed like a safe bet. Tudor and his cousin William Savage both bought as much as they could, and they were so confident in the scheme that they paid for it using credit. For Tudor, that meant putting up his ice trading business as collateral. But since he felt confident the price of coffee would continue its upward trajectory, he didn't see it as much of a risk. But he was wrong. In late 1834, the bottom fell out of the coffee trade. A bumper harvest in Brazil flooded the market with beans driving prices down. Tudor had invested hundreds of thousands of dollars into coffee futures, and now the amount he'd promised to pay wasn't covered by

the value of the coffee he owned. This crisis forced Tudor's cousin William Savage to declare bankruptcy, and it wasn't long before creditors came knocking on Tudor's door, too. But this time, it wasn't just himself he had to worry about. Earlier that year, the 50-year-old Tudor had settled down, marrying a 19-year-old storekeeper's daughter, Euphemia Fenno. Despite their 31-year age gap, the pair seemed truly happy. But now Tudor's precarious financial position threatened to upend his newfound domestic bliss. Tudor's creditors demanded that he handover ownership of his ice export business,

telling him he could stay on as a salaried manager. But despite having agreed to put up his business as collaboration, Tudor was not prepared to give up his life's work. Instead, he boldly made a counteroffer. If his creditors were willing to give him time, he'd repay the debt he owed as well as any interest that accrued, but he had one condition. They had to leave the business in his hands. Thankfully, they agreed. So in the space of only two years, Tudor's fortunes had blown hot and cold. He'd won a trade war in India only to turn around and lose the proceeds in a bad investment. Leaving him now, a married man in his 50s, in over $200,000 of debt, and not for the

first time, he'd have to rely on frozen water to pull him back from the brink. By the late 1830s, Frederick Tudor was once again deeply in debt, and his ICE export business was stuck in a rut. His ice houses in Cuba, Charleston, Savannah, and New Orleans did steady business and continue to turn a profit, but with creditors scrutinizing his every move, Tudor couldn't risk any new ventures that might jeopardize his ability to repay his considerable debts. And with Tudor's business stalled, rivals quickly stepped in to fill the gap. Other merchants began shipping New England ice to nearly every port in America.

Before long, ICE was also heading to Venezuela, Brazil, Argentina, Chile, and Peru. So while Tudor had once been hailed as the Ice King, now as competitors thrived, he felt his crown slipping. Imagine it's 1840. You sit at a long table in the hotel owned by your old friend and associate, Nathaniel Wyeth, on Fresh Pond near Cambridge, Massachusetts. A handful of smartly dressed men have already taken their seats, and you can't help but notice that you're the oldest by at least a decade.

A few years ago, a new generation of ice traders began collecting ice from fresh pond, sparking fierce disputes over territory. Even Wyeth, your own chief ice harvester, quit your employment and branched out in direct competition with you. But today, you've gathered with him and your other rivals because you've heard they have big plans, a railroad linking fresh pond to Boston Harbor. You look up as Wyeth rises to his feet. Well, gentlemen, thank you for coming. The first topic of discussion is the railroad. The ice traders bang their hands on the table to show their

assent, but you keep your arms firmly by your side. Wyeth notices your reluctance. Well, Mr. Tudor, do you not agree that Fresh Pond should join the rail network? No, I don't. It's a waste of money. It's only four miles. How expensive can that be when it's shared between all of us? Well, easy for you to say. I have the right to more fresh pond ice than any of you, but you want to split the cost of the line proportionately. That means off with the lion's share of the bill for this new track. And you'll benefit the most from the quicker transport, too. Less wastage. more ice-bound for the tropics. Well, there's nothing wrong with the carts and wagons we use now.

The wastage is minimal, and it certainly won't offset the cost of building a rail line. Mr. Tudor, we mustn't get stuck in our ways. New technology can help our business to grow. May I remind you of the effects of my horse-drawn ice machine had more than 20 years ago? Oh, there's a world of difference between an adapted plow and a railroad. Tens of thousands of dollars of difference. Well, if this is because of your financial situation, I'm sure we can come to some arrangement. we confront the costs in return for some of your ice-rides, perhaps.

You feel your cheeks redden. Although your losses and coffee speculations are well known, you don't want your rivals to know how bad your financial situation actually is, and you certainly don't want to give up your eyes to them. So instead, you rise to your feet. Build the railroad if you want, or don't. It makes no difference to me, because I will have no part of it. As you leave the room, you slam the door behind you,

although you almost immediately regret letting your temper get the better of you. It's not the other ice traders' fault that your financial situation is a mess. Truth be told, you do see the value of a new railroad. But right now, your priority is keeping your head above water. So while you're still prepared to take advantage of the railways, it'll be only when it suits you and you alone. In the 1840s, America was in the middle of a railway revolution. At the beginning of the decade, there were 2,800 miles of track in the United States.

Ten years later, that had more than triple to 9,000 miles. Among the new destinations added to the network was Fresh Pond, which linked to Boston Harbor by a four-mile line completed in December 1841. The traders who harvested ice from Fresh Pond immediately reaped the benefits. Less ice melted on the journey to warehouses at the docks, increasing profits across the board. But Frederick Tudor had refused to pay a cent to work. the railroad's construction. However, he ultimately recognized that new technology brought new

opportunities, and he wasn't about to pass up the chance to increase profits. So he apologized to Fresh Pond's other ice traders for his outburst. Then quietly, he began using the new rail line too. And the rapid pace of rail expansion across the country meant that when the first steam train pulled up at the new Fresh Pond terminus, there were already plans in place to extend the line further. The residents of nearby Fitchburg had begun raising funds. to continue the railroad to their town, 40 miles to the west. This new line was scheduled to open in 1846, but Frederick Tudor wasn't interested in joining the hordes of businessmen investing in railroads, and even if he was, he remained mired in debt. But when he studied the plans for the railroad extension

to Fitchburg, Tudor noticed that the line would pass Walden Pond near Concord. Since there were no decent roads to Walden Pond, it had never been used for ice harvesting. But the new railroad would make it accessible for the first time. Tudor moved quickly to take advantage of this opportunity. He paid the landowners around Walden Pond for the exclusive rights to harvest its ice. And after the new railroad extension became operational in December 1846, Tudor hired laborers from Concord and taught them how to use ice cutting machines. When temperatures dropped low enough to begin harvesting ice in January 1847, they set to work. By the end of the winter, Tudor had a few thousand tons of Walden Pond ice on top of his harvest from Fresh Pond.

Tudor shipped this extra ice to his global network of ice houses in the American South, the Caribbean, and India. So despite the emergence of competitors, the addition of new stock from Walden Pond gave Tudor a fresh edge. He remained the world's most successful ice trader, shipping around 50,000 tons every year, and earning annual profits of $50,000, roughly equivalent to more than $2 million today. so that by early 1849, the revenue from the booming ice trade allowed Tudor to finally pay off his coffee debt, an obligation that had hung over him for more than 15 years. In the end, he'd done it with an uncharacteristic determination to rein in his expenditures. Although Tudor was still prepared to pounce on an opportunity, he was no longer the reckless risk-taker he had been in his

youth. Instead, he'd been forced to slowly and patiently build his fortunes back up after hitting rock bottom. So in the 1850s, with his income no longer directed towards paying off debts, Tudor decided it was time to enjoy the success he'd worked so hard for. He began purchasing land on Nahant, an island north of Boston. There he built a mansion surrounded by gardens and a large estate, spending a happy last decade wandering the coastal path from his home. He even paid for a pleasure park, which became a favorite destination of day-tripping Bostonians. In 1864, Frederick Tudor died in Boston at age 80, leaving behind his widow Euphemia and six children, though the once-booming trade he established didn't survive him for long. By the middle of the 19th century, ice had become

an everyday necessity, and that meant people weren't willing to leave its supply to chance. As Tudor had experienced over his many years in the trade, an unseasonably warm winter could cause an ice drought in New England. Ships could sink or be delayed, and as America's population rapidly expanded, many of New England's lakes and rivers became too polluted to harvest ice from. By the time Tudor died, engineers had already created the first artificial ice-making machines. From small-scale beginnings, man-made ice gradually became the most common source of commercial ice. Mechanical ice factories could be built anywhere, even the hottest climates. And by the end of World War I, artificial ice was dominant. Natural ice slipped into insignificance, along with Frederick Tudor,

the pioneer of the New England ice trade. From the beginning, Tudor had been a consummate risk-taker. On the cover of his first Ice House diary, he wrote a phrase that he looked at every day. He who gives back at the first repulse without striking the second blow, despairs of success and will never be a hero in love, war, or business. Frederick Tudor had suffered many repulses in his quest to make a viable business selling ice,

but he never hesitated in striking back. And thanks to his unrivaled determination, he had lifted himself from the squalor of a debtor's prison to become the world's first ice tycoon. From Wondery, this is episode four of our four-part series The Ice King from American History Tellers. In our next season, in the first half of the 20th century, Americans were terrorized by an unpredictable infectious disease, polio.

Every summer is struck without warning, killing thousands, many of them children, and paralyzing many more. But bold leadership and a bitter rivalry between two sons, scientists would soon pave the way for one of the 20th century's greatest medical breakthroughs. If you like American history tellers, you can binge all episodes early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondry app or on Apple Podcasts. Prime members can listen ad-free on Amazon Music. And before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey at Wondry.com slash survey.

Tellers is hosted, edited and produced by me, Lindsay Graham for airship. Audio editing by Mohamed Shazi, sound designed by Molly Bach, music by Throne. This episode is written by Scott Reeves, managing producer Desi Blaylock, senior producers Alita Rosanski and Andy Beckerman. Executive producers are Jenny Lauer Beckman and Marshall Louis for Wondry.