American History Tellers - The Ice King | No Joke | 1

Episode Date: December 10, 2025

In 1806, Frederic Tudor set out to build a fortune by shipping ice from his family’s pond near Boston to the tropical Caribbean—an audacious idea no one believed in. But turning frozen water into profit proved far harder than he imagined. By 1809, an embargo had halted his shipments, his debts had mounted, and Tudor himself landed in jail. Still, he refused to abandon the dream that everyone else mocked. Forced to improvise, innovate, and gamble, Tudor pushed ahead—determined to make the impossible pay. 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.

As we explore the triumphs and tragedies that shaped America, we're always striving to paint a vivid, nuanced picture of the past, and with Wondry Plus, you can experience that vision in its purest form. Enjoy ad-free episodes, early access to new seasons, and exclusive bonus content that illuminates the human stories behind the history. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts and see American History through a whole new lens. Imagine it's fall 1809 in Boston, Massachusetts. State Street is alive with carts and carriages, but you've been standing still for more than an hour outside the custom house.

A damp chill has worked its way into your bones. But then, at last, you see the man you've been waiting for. Frederick Tudor, one of Boston's most notorious young merchants, hustles along the same. street. You step forward and catch him by the arm as he reaches the custom house steps. Mr. Tudor? The merchant tries to twist out of your grasp. What's the meaning of you laying hands on me? Aren't you Frederick Tudor, the ice traitor? I am. You reach into your pocket and pull out a brass badge. Suffolk County Sheriff's Office. You will need to come with me. I'll do no such thing. I've done

nothing wrong. Well, I have a court order here saying otherwise. Seems you owe a lot of money. We've done nothing to repay your debts. The color drains from Tudor's face. Well, I'm sure we can work something, how? I'm sure you can, but not with me. My job's just to bring you in. Where are you taking me? Well, to the jailhouse.

They'll stay there until the debt is settled. By now, a small crowd has gathered. Tudor leans close, his voice low. I can't go to jail? How will I make money from inside a cell? Eh, maybe you should have thought of that before you took on a loan you couldn't repay. One way or another, though, you're coming with me. Tudor glances around nervously and straightens his shoulders.

Well, very well, I will come, but please let go of my arm. There's no need to make a scene. You hesitate. Tudor is in his mid-20s and looks fit. If he makes a run for it, you'll have a chase on your hands. But the look on Tudor's face isn't one of defiance. It's resignation. So you release your grip and Tudor smooths down his clothes.

He fixes a smile and then raises his voice as you escort him past the on-law. Yes, sir, I'm sure we'll have this simple misunderstanding cleared up in no time. You escort Tudor down the street, the crowd parting to let you through. But as you walk, you doubt his bravado will do him any good. He's chosen to make his money by exporting frozen water from New England, and it's a business where profits melt as quickly as the product. It's clear that America's first international ice trader has gained a reputation for not being able to pay his bills,

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Hey, basketball fans, Steve Nash here. Ready to elevate your basketball IQ. I'm teaming up with LeBron James to bring you the latest season of Mind the Game. And we're about to take you deeper into basketball than you've ever gone before. Watch Mind the Game now on YouTube, Prime Video, or listen wherever you get your podcasts. I'm Lindsay Graham, and this is American History Tellers, Our History, Your Story. On our show, we'll take you to the events, the times and the people that shaped America and Americans. Our values, our struggles in our dreams.

We'll put you in this show. of everyday people as history was being made, and we'll show you how the events of the times affected them, their families, and affects you now. Today, refrigeration is so ubiquitous that we rarely give it a second thought. But before electric refrigerators and freezers became widespread in the 1950s, keeping food and medicines cool required a natural resource that came and went with the seasons, ice. For centuries, people in cold climates had harvested ice during winter and sold it during the summer, but the ice trade was regional, restricted to northern Europe and the

colder parts of North America. That changed at the dawn of the 19th century when a free-thinking Bostonian named Frederick Tudor revolutionized the trade in frozen water and transformed it into an international affair. It was after a trip to Cuba that Tudor realized that inhabitants of the tropics suffered under the blazing sun with no way to cool down. So he began exporting ice from his native New England to the hottest corners of the globe. By offering people in tropical regions the ability to mix a cool drink or make novelty foods like ice cream, Tudor became a millionaire. And during a 40-year boom in the ice trade,

Tudor's ships sailed everywhere from Georgia and Louisiana to Cuba and the Caribbean. They even transported ice as far as India, a four-month voyage that departed New England in the spring and arrived in the fall. But Tudor also found that pioneering the ice tree, trade was a slippery business. Keeping his product from melting was hard, but keeping creditors off his back proved even harder. This is episode one in our four-part series on Frederick Tudor the Ice King. No joke. On September 3rd, 1783, representatives from Great Britain and the United States gathered at the Hotel Diorke on the banks of the River Sen. There, they signed the Treaty

of Paris, ending the American Revolution. The very next day, on the other side of the Atlantic, Frederick Tudor was born in Boston, Massachusetts. The newborn Tudor joined a family that had served the Patriot Cause. His father was a lawyer who trained under John Adams in Boston, and he'd been appointed as Judge Advocate of the Continental Army during the war, a position that reported directly to General George Washington. But with peace settling across the new American nation, Tudor's father resigned from the army and established his own law practice in Boston. There he gained reputation as a respected pillar in the community. He was elected to the Massachusetts

State Legislature and then the State Senate. In the meantime, he inherited a farming estate worth $40,000, cementing his status as one of the state's elite. His expectations for the future were clear. He intended his four sons to follow in his footsteps by attending Harvard, then gaining secure employment in the legal profession. But despite his privileged upbringing, young Frederick Tudor had no interest in following the path that had made his father so successful. Instead, at just 13 years old, he abandoned his studies and found work in a local store, a decision that his father saw as a lack of drive. But Tudor wasn't aimless. He was curious about the world of business. During his time behind the store counter, he learned how

retail and trade worked in a real-world setting, how goods were bought, sold, and exchanged. And although the job only lasted a few months, it was still enough to give Tudor the vision of the life he wanted, one of a traitor. He just needed to work out exactly what he'd buy and sell, but inspiration would only strike later when Tudor was far from home. Imagine it's May 1801 in Havana, Cuba. You tilt your head back on a lounger, listening to the sound of chirping crickets. A guest house door opens, and your younger brother, 17-year-old Frederick, steps onto the porch and taps you on the shoulder. All right, come on. Time to go in, sun setting, and dinner's about to be served. Oh, God, about time, I'm rabidous. You rise from your

chair, but a sudden pain shoots through your leg, and you wobble unsteadily. Frederick reaches out and holds your arm. Is his leg still giving you trouble? Yeah, it's locked up again. Honestly, it's one thing after another. For the last year, you've been suffering from poor health, mainly a weak chest. So just after Christmas, your father insisted that you take a trip to Cuba in the hope that the warmer weather would lessen your suffering. He also suggested that Frederick go along to keep you company, but really you suspect that he just wanted Frederick out of the house. But either way, since arriving in Cuba, your condition has worsened. Now you've developed a painful swelling in one knee. You limp toward the door, embrace yourself against it,

flexing your leg. Frederick wipes his brow with the back of his sleeve. Oh, God, I just can't stop sweating. Oh, tell me about it. When father first suggested this trip, I I pictured a paradise, a tropical island, palm trees, cool ocean breezes. Oh, boy, was I naive. Yeah, the seasickness, the sunburn, the scorpions, and the heat. I could manage in February, but now it's just overwhelming. I can't ever cool off. Yeah.

You know, earlier today, I asked for a glass of cold water, and when the maid brought it out, I swear it was hot enough to make tea. She said that's just how it comes out of the well. Oh, give me a Boston blizzard over this any day. At least when there's six feet of snow, you can light a fire to warm up, but when it's 100 degrees, there's no way to get cool. And you know, it's only May. It's going to get hotter. I think we should go home. Frederick's face lights up. Oh, gosh, can we? Would you mind? No, I wouldn't mind. I'm getting no better here than I would in Boston. I miss home.

Well, it's settled then. I'll head to the dock's first thing and see about getting us passage. And believe me, when I get off this island, I'm never coming back. As you step into the house and ease yourself into a chair at the dining table, you feel a wave of relief wash over you. This trip was supposed to be a chance to recuperate, but the sun and heat of Cuba has done nothing to help your health. Now all you want is to return home to your family and the hospitable climate of Boston. After this short conversation in late May 1801, Frederick Tudor secured a cabin on the very first American-bound ship that had space, and he and his 19-year-old brother, John, set off back to the

United States. Sadly, John never made it home. On the voyage, his condition took a turn for their worse, and he died soon after the ship docked in Philadelphia. But despite this tragic end, Frederick Tudor's trip to Cuba would shape his life. Amid the heat and hardship of Havana, a seed had been planted in his mind, an idea that would eventually grow into a revolutionary new industry. Because after the loss of his eldest son, Frederick Tudor's father finally relented over his younger son's unconventional career choice. Though still skeptical of Frederick's mercantile calling, he called in favors from his old comrades from the army and secured Tudor a position with brothers James and John Sullivan, a pair of merchants based out of Boston.

It was an unpaid apprenticeship, but Tudor's father hoped that he'd give his son a leg up in the trading world. So for the next two years, Tudor gained first experience in the import business, a hectic and demanding industry. At the turn of the 19th century, Boston was America's busiest East Coast port, and almost all of the manufactured goods that were imported into New England came through its harbor. So, too, did the commodities that Americans craved but couldn't grow locally, tea from China, sugar from the Caribbean, and spices from India. Tudor's job was to help coordinate the Sullivan Brothers shipments. He sat in on meetings at the Boston Custom House, learning the business of selling imported commodities for a profit.

He thrived in this fast-paced environment, and it quickly confirmed his decision to make a living in commerce. So when the apprenticeship came to an end, Tudor's father agreed to advance him a few hundred dollars to set up his own trading business. His father expected Tudor to continue what he'd been doing for the Sullivan brothers, importing foreign goods like tea and sugar and selling them for a profit. But Tudor had a different idea. Ever since his trip to Habes, he had a bit of he'd had a nagging thought. During his time in Cuba, he'd been unable to escape the sweltering heat and blazing sun, and at times he'd had given anything for a long, cold drink, but Cubans had no ice, a product that occurred naturally and in abundance across New

England. Thinking about this, Tudor saw an opportunity. For centuries, people in cold climates had gathered ice during the winter and stored it for the warmer summer. The estates of affluent New Englanders featured ice houses that could preserve ice for months, and there were similar structures in other northern states and across the ocean in Europe. But the ice trade was always a local affair. It was never carried far from its source, and for one simple reason, ice melted. But Tudor had heard stories of timber being shipped from Boston at the height of winter, only to arrive at a warm weather destination weeks later with frost still on it.

If a ship's hold could stay cold enough to preserve frost, then Tudor saw no reason why a block of ice shouldn't survive too. But Tudor's idea to ship New England ice to the tropics was so extraordinary that no one else thought it could be done. In 1805, while still in his early 20s, Tudor pitched his plan to several ship owners he'd met during his apprenticeship, but they all laughed him off. As far as they were concerned, Tudor's plan was absurd. No one had ever attempted to transport ice over such a large distance and to such hot climates. They were certain that the ice would melt during the voyage and that the meltwater might ruin any other cargo in the hold.

There was also the worry that it might destabilize the ship, as the ice slowly disappeared unsettling the load. No one would take the risk. But Frederick Tudor was undeterred. With no ship owners willing to help, he resolved to buy his own vessel. But purchasing a ship was expensive. Since the capital provided by his father wasn't enough for such a substantial purchase, Tudor was forced to dig into his savings and scrape together every dollar he could. Eventually, he had enough money to buy a brig for almost $5,000, roughly equivalent to $125,000 today. This ship, named the Favorite, was getting old and needed repairs, but it floated, and that was good enough for Tudor. He now had the ability to transport ice out of New England, and since he was the ship's owner, he would have full control over the favorite schedule.

So now, Tudor just needed to decide where his ship would go. Although the initial idea for his ice export business originated from a trip to Havana, Tudor decided that Cuba wasn't the best place for a trial run. Although Havana was a growing city and a trade hub within the Caribbean, Tudor wanted a smaller location away from the gaze of potential rivals, where he could test the market and see whether there really would be any demand for ice. So Tudor studied a map of the rest of the Caribbean, then a patchwork of European colonies, each with its own trade agreements with the United States.

Eventually, he settled on the port of Saint-Pierre, the capital of the French colony of Martinique. At the time, Saint-Pierre had 30,000 inhabitants, many of whom were French settlers who no doubt found the tropical climate overpowering. Tudor believed that this port city would be large enough to test a man, yet small enough to not draw too much attention to his groundbreaking idea. So by the summer of 1805, Tudor had identified a product, a market, and a means of connecting the two. But his quirky idea still only existed on paper. So he took the next step and set about preparing to launch his inaugural shipment of ice. But while Tudor was optimistic, he was all so nervous. He worried that there was a possibility that his critics were right,

that his product wouldn't survive the long voyage but melt along the way, so that when his ship eventually docked, he would either be a pioneer or a laughing stump. In 1993, three eight-year-old boys were brutally murdered in West Memphis, Arkansas. As the small-town local police struggled to solve the crime, rumors soon spread that the killings were the work of a satanic cult. Suspicion landed on three local teenagers, but there was no real evidence linking them to the murders. Still, that would not protect them.

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an escape that could rewrite history. Follow the Spy Who on the Wondry app or wherever you listen to podcasts. Or you can binge the full season of the Spy Who outran the KGB early and ad-free with Wondry Plus. In the summer of 1805, aspiring ice trader Frederick Tudor wrestled with a problem that kept him awake at night. He knew that few people had faith in his business idea, but he was confident he could prove them wrong

if he could just ensure his shipment of ice eventually arrived in the Caribbean unmeltered. But even if he pulled that off, he would still have a problem, because if he proved his idea was a good one, Tudor worried his skeptics would suddenly become his competition, and hordes of other traders would rush in to set up copycat businesses and encroach on his newly discovered market. So Tudor decided to try to head off any competition in advance. To do this, he recruited his brother, William, and cousin James, to sail ahead to Martinique, where they would try to secure a promise of exclusivity from the island's governor. Tudor knew if he could secure such a guarantee, it would give him a monopoly over the ice trade there,

allowing him to control prices and set them high enough to make a generous profit. But at the start of the 19th century, Europe was embroiled in the Napoleonic Wars, meaning warships from the navies of Britain, France, and Spain patrolled the Caribbean hunting for the enemy, and occasionally Americans found themselves in the crossfire. So there was no guarantee that Tudor's brother William and cousin James would arrive at their destination. station safely. Imagine it's the evening of December 3rd, 1805, just outside Saint-Pierre Harbor, Martinique. You stand on the deck of a small ship as it rolls in the waves.

Beside you, your cousin James leans on the rail. After three weeks at sea, you're both eager to feel solid ground under your feet again, because this is no pleasure cruise. You're here as a favor to your younger brother, Frederick, who has the audacious idea to export ice from Boston to the tropics. You point toward the mountain that looms over the port town of Saint-Bier. Oh, God, look at the size of that thing. It's magnificent. Sure is. You know, though, that's no ordinary hill. That's a volcano. Oh, God, should we be worried? Apparently erupted about a decade ago, but it's been quiet ever since.

Well, thank goodness for that. I can't imagine ice and volcanoes going well together. You think Frederick's really going to sell ice here? He's convinced of it, but me, I'm not so sure. Still, he's footing the bill, so we can't complain too much. It'll be fun. Getting stopped and searched by British and then French warships on the way wasn't that fun. Certainly not the start of a vacation. Well, you know, they're enemies at war. Who can blame them for being skittish? They were just checking that we were really neutral Americans. A low rumble cuts through the air, and you squint at the mountain.

Was that the volcano? No, no smoke. Nothing coming from the summit. Suddenly, a large splash erupts in the sea, a hundred-year-old. from your ship. He turned James an alarm. Oh, God, is someone firing at us? They're firing the harbor batteries. Suddenly, a pale-faced sailor scrambles up from below deck. He sets a lantern down and fumbles with a flint, but a wick won't catch. He glances up at the two of you, but neither of you can help. So he goes back to frantically striking his flint, until finally the lantern flares to life. The sailor then scurries up the rigging, carrying the lantern with him.

When he reaches the top, he begins signaling to shore. James stares up. What do you think he's saying? No idea. Presumably, don't sink us. James calls out to the sailor in the rigging. Tell them we're not English. We're merchants from New England. We come in peace. As the sailor frantically signals, the cannon fire from the batteries ceases and you sigh with relief. But then you begin to worry again. If it's been this difficult and dangerous to get you and your cousin down to the

tropics, how hard will it be to get tons and tons of ice? After avoiding being sunk by cannon fire and making landfall in Martinique, William and James's trip didn't improve. A few days after they docked in Saint-Pierre, William was struck down by a tropical fever. That left James to present Frederick Tudor's case to the governor alone. He listened politely, though with the traces of a disbelieving smile on his lips. But a week or two later, on December 24, 1805, William and James received an early Christmas present. The governor had agreed to grant them the right to import ice into Martinique, but the license came at a cost $400.

This was a steep price and one that William and James couldn't afford to pay, but they weren't prepared to give up. So instead of paying the full amount, they arranged to quietly deliver a smaller bribe in the form of several gold coins to the home of the governor's secretary. Although these coins were worth considerably less than $400, it still did the trick, and the next day, William and James received a signed decree stating that Frederick Tudor was now Martinique's exclusive importer of ice. Back in New England, Tudor was pleased with the news that William and

James had succeeded in their mission. Now he just had to build up a stock of ice. Fortunately, he had a cheap source close to home. The Tudor family estate outside Boston included Rockwood pond, a body of water that was far bigger than its name implied. It was actually a lake, and importantly for Tudor, it froze over in winter. Harvesting the pond's ice would cost him little more than the wages of the laborers who cut it out, mostly local farmers eager to earn a few extra dollars during the months when their crops were fallow. But getting the ice to its final destination would be the real challenge. Once it was chiseled into blocks and lifted from the pond. Tudor was in a race against time to get the ice to Martinique before it melted.

The ice house on the family estate was far too small to store the amount that Tudor planned to export, so he ordered the laborers to low the ice blocks straight onto carts and dispatch it to Boston Harbor. There, the ice was transferred onto Tudor's newly purchased ship, the favorite. To keep the temperature in the hold as low as possible, Tudor packs sawdust and wood planks around the ice as insulation. And finally, on February 13th, 8th,000, 1806, the favorite set sail, carrying 130 tons of ice bound for the tropics. But despite Tudor's best efforts, the news of the shipment leaked. Just prior to the ship's departure, an article in the Boston Gazette revealed that an unusual

cargo was leaving the harbor, and the tone of the reporting left no doubt that it was a source of comedy. Under the headline, No Joke, it offered a derisive opinion that the voyage was a slippery speculation. But Frederick Tudor didn't read these mocking stories. He had decided to personally accompany the shipment and was already on board the favorite for its 2,000-mile journey from Boston to the Caribbean. Twenty-one days later, Tudor and his shipment arrived in Saint-Pierre, and when he opened the ship's hole to his great relief,

most of the ice had survived the voyage. But then came a serious setback. Tudor discovered that his brother, William, and cousin James, had made no preparations for the ship's arrival. After William had recovered from the tropical fever he contracted in Martinique, he'd set sail to scout other potential markets in the Caribbean. And almost as soon as he had gone, James came down with yellow fever and took to his bed. Tudor had presumed that his brother and cousin would have rented a dockside warehouse to store the ice once it arrived, but James sheepishly admitted that the thought

hadn't occurred to him. So with nowhere to store the ice on land, Tudor had to resort to selling it directly from the favorite. But the ship now sat in the warm water of the Caribbean and the temperature in the hold was climbing. Tudor knew the ice wouldn't last long, so he sprinted to place ads in Saint-Pierre's newspapers, informing readers that an extraordinary cargo had arrived. The ads announced that for just 16 cents a pound, anybody could buy a chunk of pure New England ice. And aware that inhabitants of the island would be unfamiliar with how to handle his product, Tudor's ads encourage potential customers to bring a blanket to wrap the frozen water in. He also made suggestions for how to use it, explaining that it could chill the island's

tepid drinking water, and it was the perfect way to preserve fresh food. He even suggested that if customers use the ice to cool cream and constantly stirred as it approached its freezing point, they'd make a novelty never before seen in Martinique ice cream. But to Tudor's dismay, hardly anyone in Saint-Pierre showed up to make a purchase. Even though his cargo was interesting enough for the local papers to write about, no one in Saint-Pierre owned an ice house or icebox. They weren't willing to spend their hard-earned cash on a product that would literally melt away before their eyes. This left Tudor dismayed.

He had hoped to bring in roughly $10,000 of revenue for the shipment, but over the next month he only managed to take in around $25 a day. And all the time, his remaining stock was melting. He realized he'd be lucky to make a tenth of the revenue he'd hope for. So when it became clear that he had failed to successfully convince the inhabitants of Martinique that ice was the luxury they couldn't live without or even a useful commodity, Tudor became determined to find a new market. He raised anchor and set off in pursuit of his brother, William, who'd gone ahead to search for another island where Tudor might sell the ice. But not realizing

that William had gone north to Guadalupe and Antigua, Tudor instead set a southeast heading to Barbados. There, Tudor failed to negotiate a deal with the island's governor, so he had no choice but to return, dejected to Martinique, and by the time his ship docked in Saint-Pierre again, his ice had completely melted. All Tudor could do now was return home and lick his wounds. But fate had one final blow in store. Just two hours after leaving Port to return to Boston, the favorite was caught in a sudden and violent squaw which damaged the ship's masts. The captain was forced to return to Saint-Pierre for repairs. Eventually, Tudor did return to Boston, and he was humiliated.

Selling ice to the tropics had not been the easy road to riches that he had expected. The voyage had ended in a $4,500 loss over $100,000 today. But Tudor refused to accept that he'd made an error in judgment, instead claiming his financial loss was the fault of the unseasonable weather, his inept relatives, and the uncultured inhabitants of Saint-Pierre. As far as Tudor was concerned, the problem wasn't his plan, it was in the execution, and he was determined to try again. But when he returned home to Boston in early 1806, spring was in full bloom, temperatures were climbing,

and Rockwood Pond was liquid once again. Frederick Tudor would have to wait for winter before he could try again, and in the meantime, he needed to find a way to stay afloat during the long, hot summer. In just a few years, Ozympic has gone from a diabetes drug to a global phenomenon. But behind the miracle claims, another battle is raging. Demand is exploding. Supply can't keep up. And as drug maker Novo Nordisk scrambles to produce more, its rival Eli Lilly is racing to take the crown.

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And since it was now the height of summer, Tudor's fledgling business would be at a standstill until temperatures dropped and the ice returned that winter. However, one important discovery had come out of Tudor's disastrous voyage to Martinique. Ship owners were forced to admit that ice could survive a three-week voyage to the Caribbean, and that revelation changed their attitudes to his business. They were now willing to let Tudor rent cargo space in their merchant ships, meaning Tudor would no longer need his own vessel. Imagine it's summer 1806 in Boston Harbor. You climb the gangplank of a merchant ship, your chest heaving with the effort.

You're in your 60s these days, a time when many men are starting to take it easy. But as a merchant, you never pass up a bargain. This ship has been listed at a tempting price, so you're compelled to take a look. You step onto the deck and then take a moment to catch your breath. As a breeze watches over you, the ship's owner approaches and offers his hand. Ah, welcome aboard the favorite. Much obliged. Forgive me, though. My lungs aren't what they used to be. Oh, no rush. I'll give you the tour whenever you're ready.

As your breathing slows, you walk across to one of the masts. It bears the scars of a recent repair. You wrap the patch with your knuckles. Oh, well, she's been through a bit, hasn't she? You. We ran into a small gale on our last voyage out of Martinique. It was nothing, really. I assure you, she's as good as new now. You glance over the ripped sails and weathered deck. This guy is laying it on thick. The favorite certainly isn't in top shape, and even at a discounted price, you think he's asking too much. But now you're here, so you might as well take a look around. All right, well, let me see the hole. The ship's owner lifts a hatch and winces at the hinges squeaked noisily. You peer into the dark. dark hole. Watch the capacity. Well, I had a hundred tons in here on my last voyage. Hundred tons of what? Ice. You turn your head sharply and look properly at the shipowner for the first time. And as you recognize him, your face cracks into a smile. Well, I'll be. You're

Frederick Tudor, the ice man himself. That's me. You were the talk of the custom house last winter, sending ice to the Caribbean. We weren't sure we could believe it. Where it is, it didn't go so well. Well, what makes you say that? You know how nice. news spreads, and now you're trying to sell your ship, so I guess you're throwing in the towel? I mean, anybody could have told you that you can't sell ice in the tropics. Tudor stiffens, and he sets his jaw. Well, sir, I'll have you know that the voyage went very well, so much that I'm planning another this winter. The favorite's too small, you see. I've outgrown her.

Your eyes wander over the sorry-looking ship. It's obvious that Tudor is bluffing. Still, you're not here to get into a dispute, so you raise your palms and a conciliatory gesture. Well, then please, accept my apology. I didn't mean to offend. Tudor pulls his coat down and huffs. No offense taken. Shall we go below deck?

No, no, I don't think so. This ship isn't for me, but I will say this. It's been a pleasure to meet you, son. You hold out your hand and Tudor shakes it. As you descend the gangplank, you're already looking forward to meeting your friends at the tavern tonight because they aren't going to believe that you just met Boston's infamous Iceman. In January 1807, New England's lakes and ponds froze over as usual, and Frederick Tudor

launched his second season harvesting ice. As before, he hired laborers to cut blocks of ice from Rockwood Pond, and he transported it straight to Boston Harbor. By the time the first cartloads arrived, Tudor had finally sold his ship the favorite in order to recoup some of the losses from his first voyage. And with the money from the sale, he was able to hire a merchant ship to carry his cargo instead, only this time it wasn't bound for Martinique. Tudor had decided to try somewhere different, and still convinced that his scheme would work, he decided to aim even higher than before. This time around, he set his sights on one of the Caribbean's biggest port towns and the place where he'd first had the idea for his business, Havana, Cuba. But Tudor had learned

an important lesson in Martinique. If he wanted to sell ice in the tropics, he needed somewhere to store it. Luckily, he had a man on the ground who could help. William Savage was another of Tudor's cousins, and he already lived in Havana. So Tudor asked him to supervise the excavation of a custom-built ice house, dug into the ground close to Havana's docks. Tudor also charged him with selling the ice once it arrived, so Tudor could remain in New England to focus on supervising the ongoing ice harvest. So by February of 1807, Tudor's first shipment of 180 tons of ice arrived in Havana.

Not long after, Savage wrote to Tudor with encouraging news. there was enough demand to cover the cost of more shipments. Tudor was excited to learn that this time, unlike in Martinique, his gamble had paid off, and so he quickly arranged for another shipment of ice to be sent. It arrived in March 1807, just a month after the first, and the timing couldn't have been better. Cuba was in the middle of a late spring heat wave, and the inhabitants of Havana were enjoying the novelty of chilled beverages and ice cream to cool down. And despite rising temperatures in the custom-built ice house, William Savage was able to sell most of their product before it melted. Thrilled with his success in Havana, the following month in April 1807,

Tudor hired a third ship and then accompanied its frozen cargo to Cuba himself. And again, the ice he delivered sold well, soon leaving his custom ice house empty. But the ship was empty, too, as were the first two when they set sail back to Boston. Tudor soon recognized another opportunity. He could use the return trip to haul cargo and earn money in both directions. Tudor soon struck a deal with a local trader who wanted to ship molasses from Cuba to Boston. Tudor agreed to transport it for a fee and traveled home with the cargo. When they docked in Boston, the molasses was unloaded and quickly distributed to the trader's buyers. But when the time came to settle the bill, the Cuban trader had vanished. This didn't just leave Tudor with a

missed chance to make a profit. It cost him money because as the person who'd hired the ship, Tudor was on the hook for the unpaid custom duties. Across the three voyages to Havana that spring, Tudor had sold $6,000 worth of ice, but the import taxes for the shipment of molasses wiped out all his profit. For the second year in a row, Tudor's business was in the red, and once again he was forced to borrow money just to stay afloat. But that wasn't the worst of it, because soon a new crisis arose. In the summer of 1807, President Thomas Jefferson dropped a bombshell on America's merchant community, a blanket ban on American exports. The Napoleonic wars were still raging in Europe, and the fighting had spread to the British, French, and Spanish colonies of the Caribbean.

President Jefferson feared that if the Europeans perceived American merchants to be favoring one island over another, the United States could be dragged into Europe's conflict. So to prove America's neutrality, Jefferson shut down trade to any of the rival powers. President Jefferson's decision was a major blow to Tudor's fledgling enterprise, as for the next two winters, he had no choice but to put his ice exports on hold. And while the ships sat idle, Tudor's debts kept growing. By the fall of 1809, his creditors were losing patience, and eventually, one called in the law. Outside the Custom House in Boston, Tudor was arrested for non-payment of debts. Following a dream he had while a teenager, Frederick Tudor had identified

what he thought was an untapped market, selling ice to the tropics. But four years in, he'd yet to prove it was a viable business. And now, it wasn't just his pride that was on the line. It was his freedom. Because unless Tudor could come up with the cash he owed, Boston's pioneering ice trader would be stuck in a place far colder than in the ice house. He'd be left to freeze in a Boston jail. From Wondery, this is episode one of our four-parts series on the Ice King from American History Tellers. In the next episode, Frederick Tudor battles debt, competition, and the relentless tropical heat in his fight to keep the ice trade alive. But a string of calamitous setback soon land him back in prison, leaving Tudor's liberty in the hands of his father.

If you like American History Tellers, you can binge all episodes early and ad-free right now, by joining Wondry 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. American History Tellers is hosted, edited and produced by me, Lindsay Graham for Airship. Audio editing by Mohamed Shazim, sound design by Molly Bach, music by Thrum. This episode is written by Scott Reeves, managing producer Desi Blaylock. senior producers Alita Rosaski and Andy Beckerman.

Executive producers are Jenny Lauer Beckman and Marshall Louis for Wondering.