American History Tellers - The Ice King | Slippery Business | 3

Episode Date: December 24, 2025

By 1816, Frederic Tudor had spent a decade shipping New England ice to Cuba—with little to show for it. Setbacks and vanished profits nearly ruined him, and a gamble on shipping tropical fruit had left him barely solvent. Then a chance conversation sparked a bold new idea: expand the ice trade into the American South. Tudor rushed to South Carolina, only to clash with state officials who refused to grant him a monopoly on trade – a tactic he’d come to rely on. Their refusal forced him to rethink everything, and revise his strategy. But just as he began to find success, a series of catastrophes threatened his health, and events were set in motion that would transform the Ice King’s future forever.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.

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working your way through a stack of papers and permits that have been sent for your review. You stifle a yawn as you pick up yet another document from the pile. But just then, an attendant enters the room and informs you that there's a gentleman from new England asking for an audience with the committee. You nod to the attendant who steps out and returns with a weary-looking man with dark circles under his eyes. He wipes his nose with a handkerchief as he takes a seat across from you. You reach across the table and shake his hand. Well, welcome. I was informed that you've only recently arrived in our fine city. I hope the journey went well. I can't say it did. A week I see from Boston to Charleston, followed by three

miserable days on rutted rows to Columbia, and I managed to catch a terrible cold along the way. You'll have to excuse me. I haven't slept a wink in two nights. Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, but I guess you're here now. What brings you before our committee today? My name's Frederick Tudor. He pauses, clearly expecting some reaction from you, but you've never heard of him. After a second, Tudor frowns. The ice trader, out of Boston? You look down the table at your colleagues, but there's no hint of recognition from them either. I'm afraid, sir, we're not familiar. Well, let me enlighten you then.

For the last ten years, I've exported the purest New England ice to the islands of the Caribbean. It's transformed people's lives in the tropics. Imagine being able to drink chilled water on a scorching day. Cubans have even developed a taste for ice cream. At that, your curiosity stirs. You know, I once had ice cream in London. Quite the novelty.

Are we to understand that you're here today because you wish to import ice into South Carolina? That's exactly it. And as a first step, I intend to build an ice house in Charleston, a structure that will keep my product frozen for weeks. Well, very well, Mr. Tudor. Thank you for informing us. We look forward to following your progress

and maybe eating an ice cream next summer. Tudor wipes his nose with his handkerchief again. Excellent, excellent. I'll begin construction as soon as I receive the license. I only sell ice in regions where I have the exclusive rights to import it. You hear one of the other committee members mutter something under his breath. Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Tudor, but that's not within the power of this committee to grant you a monopoly. Tudor closes his eyes, pinching two fingers to the bridge of his nose.

I'm going to build an ice house, shift frozen water 1,000 miles by sea, gamble thousands of dollars to introduce a new product to your state, yet you aren't willing to do one small thing to help? Well, Mr. Tudor, this is the United States. We don't restrict trade. we don't place artificial barriers to stop competition. That isn't the American way. Tudor rises and then stops back toward the door. Well, then I will go elsewhere, find a more amenable market.

And then I'll make a fortune, because that's the American way. Tudor slams the door on his way out of the room. You look around at your fellow committee members who appear just as bewildered by this interaction as you are. Then you can't help but laugh at the sheer gumption of him, asking for a state-licensed monopoly for something as bizarre as ice. You've met your fair share of eccentric businessmen

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others, whoever they are. There's a little bit of something for everyone. Listen to Tis the Grinch holiday podcast wherever you get your podcasts. From Wondery, I'm Lindsay Graham, and this is American History Tellers, Our History, Your Story. By the winter of 1816, ice trader Frederick Tudor had spent nearly a decade shipping ice from New England and selling it in Cuba. But after 10 years of time and effort, Tudor was far from wealthy. He'd suffered numerous setbacks over the years, and time and again his profits had been erased. Just a year earlier in 1815, a cargo of tropical fruit he'd hoped to successfully import to New York went rotten during the voyage, leaving him with barely enough money to tide him over

until the following winter. But a fortuitous meeting with a family friend soon gave Tudor an idea. While Tudor had previously only exported to the Caribbean, now he began making plans to expand his trade network to the American South. In pursuit of his new goal, Tudor traveled to South Carolina in December 1816. But by the time he arrived, he was suffering from a head cold that left him short-tempered. And when the state's trade committee refused to grant him the monopoly he requested, Tudor threatened to take his trade elsewhere and stormed out of the meeting. But he soon backed down on his threat, convinced that South Carolina was the best place to launch the ice trade in America. And although he didn't realize it at the time, the committee's decision would turn out

to be a blessing in disguise. By forcing Tudor to revise his whole approach to the ice trade, the people of South Carolina would finally put him on a path to prosperity. This is episode three in our four-part series on the Ice King. Slippery Business. In December 1816, just days after being rejected by the South Carolina Trade Committee, Frederick Tudor decided to press ahead with his plan to expand his business into the American South anyway. So he proceeded to hire laborers to build him an ice house in South Carolina's largest port, Charleston. At the time, Charleston was a bustling city of more than 20,000 people.

people. Merchants ships crowded the harbor, loading cotton from vast plantations around the state. Other traders specialized in a different cargo, enslaved Africans, many of whom were sold at auction before being loaded onto carts and transported to work the fields. Others remained in the city, forced into domestic service or to labor in workshops and factories. Tudor accepted slavery as part of the economy of the southern states, and although he showed no interest in making money from the slave trade himself, he was happy to pursue his other commercial ambitions in the region. Still, the refusal of the state trade committee to grant him a monopoly posed a serious risk to his planned expansion. In the past, Tudor had insisted on getting the exclusive rights to import ICE before he

began trading in any particular territory. He worried that competitors would see what he was doing and muscle in on the trade. It was a fear that had already come true twice before while trading in Cuba. But both times Tudor had managed to defeat his rivals by undercutting their prices, but the experiences had left him wary. Now Tudor had to accept that he would not receive an exclusive license in South Carolina. In response to this setback, he decided to shift his business model and drop his prices from the start, in the hopes of preventing potential rivals from even starting to challenge him. So while he'd previously charged 16 cents a pound for his ice in Havana. In Charleston, he fixed the price at half that amount, just eight cents a pound.

But there was a catch. Lowering his prices would mean that Tudor had to sell more ice in order to make a profit. And to achieve higher sales, he knew he would need to spark enough demand that ice became a commonly purchased product, not just an expensive luxury good available only to the wealthy. So Tudor focused on marketing his ice as a product for everyone. In ads, he placed in Charleston's newspapers, he printed a recipe for homemade ice cream. He told barmen how to mix ice-based cocktails and promoted ice to physicians as a method of cooling fevers. Residents of South Carolina had never stored ice before either, so Tudor taught them how to make it last. He sold blankets for $1.00 apiece, explaining to customers that

they should wrap their ice to insulate it on the journey from the ice house to their homes. And for a slightly higher price, customers could buy their own wooden, iron-lined icebox that could keep three pounds of ice frozen for several days. And for a subscription of ten $10 a month, Tudor would even deliver fresh ice directly to the customer's door every few days. It didn't take long for Tudor's aggressive marketing campaign and new pricing strategy to work. While the wealthy residents of Charleston were certainly eager to try New England ice, even the city's enslaved workers and domestic servants, most of whom had just a few cents, lined up to buy ice at Tudor's reasonable rates, so that during the spring of 1817,

he sold more ice in Charleston than he did in the well-established market. of Havana. Tudor was thrilled that his strategy had paid off, even though prices were lower in Charleston, the higher volume of sales meant he made more money. In fact, Tudor discovered that sales were so strong that demand outstripped supply. Usually, he sold the ice that he had harvested from lakes and ponds in New England until he ran out of stock. He then waited until next winter's freeze when the process of harvesting began again. But in 1817, Tudor sold so much ice in Charleston that he depleted his ice stores far earlier than usual. This premature end to the trading season spurred him to try and solve the issue of limited supply. And Tudor soon identified

the problem. There simply wasn't enough storage space in his Boston ice houses to hold the quantity of ice he needed to keep both Havana and Charleston supplied. So Tudor arranged for more ice houses to be built close to Boston Harbor. These new warehouses enabled Tudor to hold stock in reserve and redirect it where it was needed, meaning he would no longer be forced to end a trading season early because he'd run out of ice. This increased storage space also gave Tudor the opportunity to expand his business even further. With enough ice in reserve to supply another market, Tudor's eyes wandered across the map looking for another suitable city in the American South. It didn't take him long to land on another bustling commercial hub, Savannah, Georgia.

Like Charleston, Savannah was a coastal city with a thriving port and a growing population. But Tudor lacked the capital to launch a large-scale operation in Savannah. He did, however, have enough spare cash to build a small, temporary icehouse close to Savannah Harbor. And with that ice house in place, in the spring of 1818, Tudor arranged for a shipment of a few dozen tons of ice from Boston. Then following his now-tried and true approach, he placed ads to inform the people of Savannah that there was a new product in town, and tried to spark demand while keeping prices as low as possible. Before long, he found he was even more successful in Savannah than he could have dreamed of. His shipment of ice ran out within days, and Tudor felt confident enough to begin building a permanent ice house that would

be operational for the following year. By the beginning of 1819, Tudor could look back on his best 12 months yet. He had a steady income from Havana. Charleston was a roaring success, and Savannah looked set to replicate it. He had sufficient ice houses in Boston to hold his supply, and they were ready to be filled with another winter's worth of New England ice. Everything seemed to be going well, but Tudor soon realized there was something fundamental to the ice trade that he couldn't control the weather. For years, Tudor had been a consummate note-taker. He filled pages of what he called his Ice House diaries with observations, temperature records, ice depths, and financial transactions. But in early 1819, as he jotted

his daily notes, he realized he was facing an unprecedented situation. England was in the midst of an ice drought. In the winter, to form export-grade ice, New England's temperatures needed to drop below 30 degrees Fahrenheit for at least a week. The ice layer of a lake or pond needed to reach a depth of 18 inches to even begin collecting it. Typically, Tudor's harvesters got to work in January and continued through March, but by late February 1819, Tudor had to face the fact that barely a single day had dropped below freezing. A brief, belated cold snap finally allowed him to fill some of his newly built ice houses near Boston Harbor, but he knew this meager harvest wouldn't be enough to keep all three of his markets supplied for the

entire summer. So after a year of unprecedented success, Tudor was now at a loss as to how he could procure the amount of ice he would need to satisfy his customers. He finally had the demand he dreamed of, but now his supply fell short. Then a thought occurred to him, he would turn to the sea. Tudor learned that the mild winter combined with winter storms meant that more icebergs than usual were breaking off in the ice sheets of the Arctic. As the giant mountains of ice slowly drifted south, transatlantic shipping spent the summer dodging them.

Most captains took a more southerly course to avoid the icy obstacles, but Tudor resolved to send ships straight for them. Imagine it's September 1819 in the North Atlantic Ocean. pull your coat tighter as wind whistles across the deck of your trading ship the retrieve. Normally, in merchant shipping, time is money, but right now the retrieve is motionless in the ice fields of the North Atlantic, and the stillness makes you uneasy. A few weeks ago, Boston Ice Trader Frederick Tudor hired you and your ship for an unusual mission to sail into the North Atlantic, find an iceberg, and harvest ice straight from the sea. It's a task

unlike any you've ever had before, and it's made your chief mate anxious. Do you think we should pull the men off the iceberg? The hold's looking pretty full to me. Are we at capacity? Not quite. But like I said, we've got a good load. Well, if there's space in the hold, we keep working. Mr. Tudor hasn't paid us to return with a half-empty ship. Nice, sir, but the iceberg gets looking unsteady.

You look at the frozen colossus, towering over the deck. A dozen sailors have climbed it using ropes and ladders, and they're hacking at it with pickaxes and saws. Blocks of ice swing through the air as they're lowered to the deck. The men looked nervous, but the iceberg seems stable enough, so you shake your head. No, look, I don't like this job either, but we're not leaving until it's done. Continue into the holds full. Very well, sir.

Still, it seems crazy that this ice is going to end up in Cuba, right? And Charleston and Savannah, too, I hear. What a funny world we live in. Just then, a ladder balanced against the iceberg suddenly falls to the side. Another creaks and starts to slide. Your eyes snap back to the top of the iceberg, and you suddenly, realized that the chief mate is right. It's tilting in the water. Oh no, all right, get the men off there now. The chief mate shouts frantically to the men to get down, and in moments, sailors

shimmy down the ropes and descend ladders onto the deck. You signal to the sailor at the wheel. Quickly, push away! The ship inches away from the iceberg when it's not moving quickly enough. The iceberg tilts further and then begins to roll. The ship jolts as the ice scrapes along the hull, and the mate leans over the rail. Captain, we've been struck. I'm in the pumps. Raise the sails. We're getting out of here, full hole or not.

I'm not going under for the sake of a few tons of frozen water. When you're safely clear, you personally examine the damage. The iceberg has torn a large gash in the retrieve, but luckily, the hole is above the waterline. With emergency repairs, you'll be able to limp back south with the ice your crew has already cut. Still, as you watch the shimmering iceberg recede into the distance, one thought settles in your mind. This will be the last fool's errand you ever run for Frederick Tudor. For the crew's brave enough to take it on, hacking ice off unstable icebergs in the frigid open ocean was perilous work.

But after they returned to Boston Harbor with full holds, Frederick Tudor paid them handsomely for their efforts. It was a premium he was willing to pay because the unprecedented shortage of ice in New England that winter meant that these emergency supplies from the North Atlantic were his only hope for keeping his trade alive. For Tudor, though, survival was never enough. Adding new ports to his roots had paid off, and now he was hungry for more.

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Havana was providing a stable income stream. Charleston was as lucrative of a market as it had been the previous year, and the first full trading season in Savannah was just as rewarding. Tudor had built a new ice house there that could hold 200 tons of ice, an amount he boasted was large enough to keep all Georgia cool for some time. And he was right. The new ice house didn't just hold enough to serve the inhabitants of Savannah, but the whole state. Because Savannah sat at the mouth of a sprawling web of rivers, it was the hub of a regional trade network. Local merchants were able to buy Tudor's ice

in bulk, loaded onto riverboats, and transport it all over the state, spreading chilled goods well beyond Savannah's city limits. And despite being wary of competition, Tudor didn't mind the local merchants' building on his success. He didn't have the manpower or means to reach every city, town, and village himself, and he reasoned that the rising demand only strengthened his position. As long as no one tried to compete directly and impose on his territory by importing ice from Boston, he was content, and thanks to his low prices, no rival dared to try. By the end of that summer, Tudor's stocks of ice had been exhausted, and thanks to his robust sales in Georgia, he was finally back in the black. He was even able to read.

pay his long-standing debts, so for the first time in more than a decade, he could return to Boston without looking over his shoulder. Still, Tudor wasn't prepared to take any more money out of his company than was necessary. He intended to use his profits to keep expanding, and he soon got another opportunity. A fellow Boston merchant named Stephen Cabot approached Tudor with a bold proposal. He wanted to partner to re-establish the ice trade on the Caribbean island where it was born, Martinique. Tudor's first attempt to export ice from Boston to Martinique 12 years earlier had been an expensive failure. He had no ice house on the tropical island at the time, and his first shipment had melted quickly, as the inhabitants of Martinique

had shown little interest in purchasing a product that melted within hours of buying it. But Tudor felt he had learned a great deal since then, and decided the time was right to try again. So he arranged to put up some of the money he'd made over the previous year, while Cabot found someone else willing to match the investment. Tudor then used the combined capital to order the construction of an ice house on Martinique and hired a ship to carry a cargo of ice. Meanwhile, Cabot traveled to the island to act as the icehouse manager. But almost immediately, cracks appeared in the partnership. In Charleston and Savannah, Tudor had succeeded by marketing ice to ordinary people as an everyday necessity, not a luxury. He kept prices as low as possible

and sold in volume. But once in Martinique, Cabot didn't stick to Tudor's proven methods. Instead, he charged a high price for the ice in hope of making more money on each sale. But just as Tudor had found on the island more than a decade earlier, inhabitants of Martinique were not interested in paying top dollar for a product only to see it melt within a day or two. So upon hearing of his partner's prices, Tudor wrote to Cabot, urging him to change course. He explained the techniques he used to spark demand elsewhere, how he he'd printed recipes for ice cream and sold blankets and ice boxes so customers could keep their ice cool after purchasing it. He explained how he offered ice to bars and restaurants at

little more than cost to get patrons hooked on chilled drinks. But Cabot ignored all of Tudor's advice. Instead, he buried his disappointing sales figures in optimistic letters and reports. He declared that he'd turned the situation around. According to him, lines formed every day outside his Martinique Ice House. Cabot even claimed that demand was so high that they They should build another ice house on the neighboring island of St. Thomas. That way, Tudor's ships could drop off at two different stops in one voyage, sharing transport costs while tapping into a wider Caribbean market. And at Cabot's urging, Tudor agreed to fund the construction of the St. Thomas Ice House.

Then he waited for the money that Cabot had promised would follow, but it never came. In reality, sales in St. Thomas were just as poor as in Martinique, and the stock had slowly melted before it could be sold. Worse still, Tudor had precious little ice to spare after the previous winter's weak harvest, meaning Cabot was wasting product that Tudor couldn't afford to lose. Only at the end of the summer did Tudor uncover the truth. Cabot had grossly exaggerated how well he was doing, and the Caribbean expansion was never going to turn a profit.

Tudor dissolved their partnership and once again abandoned the ice trade in Martinique, this time for good. In total, Tudor spent $19,000, setting up with Stephen Cabot in Martinique and St. Thomas. The money he made in return didn't come close to covering his costs, and it couldn't have come at a worse time. In the summer of 1819, Tudor's father died. In the last years of his life, Tudor's father had gambled heavily on property speculations that he was sure would eventually pay off. They never did, and now his debts had come due for repayment. As a result, Tudor's mother was forced to vacate her home and sell it to pay a portion of her husband's debts,

but it wasn't enough to clear them all. And Tudor's siblings couldn't offer any help. His older brother William had carved out a reputation as one of Boston's finest writers, but he didn't have the money required to rescue the family fortunes. Tudor's younger brother, Harry, now 28 years old, hadn't yet found a secure job for himself, so only Frederick had any hope of turning the family prospects around.

So to keep his family out of poverty, Tudor rolled the dice. He planned to increase his income by expanding the ice trade yet again, which meant finding another destination where he could sell his product. But his recent failures in Martinique and St. Thomas had talked to her that even experience brought no guarantee of success. After all these years, he could just as easily lose money as make it. Still, Tudor felt he had no choice. He opened up his atlas and searched for a port with promise, eventually landing on New Orleans, Louisiana. Tudor had learned from his successes in Charleston and Savannah, and even more from his losses in Martinique and St. Thomas. The ice trade

made money only when Tudor followed his own formula and worked with partners he could rely on. So he enlisted his brother Harry to travel to New Orleans to oversee the newest frontier of the Tudor Ice Empire. But when Harry arrived, he discovered the juggernaut that Frederick had created was at risk of coming to a screeching halt. Imagine it's December 1820 in New Orleans, Louisiana. You step onto the sidewalk as a splendid horse-drawn carriage rumbles past. It's past. passengers wrapped in fine coats. You watched them with a trace of envy. A few years ago, you'd have traveled in luxury, too, but fortunes change, and now your family has fallen on hard

times. That's why you're here. A few days ago, you arrived in New Orleans to set up the newest ice house in your brother Frederick's trade network. But when your ship docked, bad news was waiting. The local investors Frederick had lined up have all pulled out, and without their money, you can't afford to build an ice house, and without an ice house, there's no trade. So you're taking a walk to clear your head, trying to decide how to break the crushing news to Frederick. But you're not looking where you're going, and you collide with a man hurrying the other way. Hey, watch where you're going. Oh, sorry, my mistake. You're about to walk on, but then you realize that man looks familiar.

Wait, wait, Charles? Charles Whitman? The man stops and turns around. Yes? Do I know you? It's Harry. Harry Tudor. Charles examines you closely and breaks into a smile. Charles grew up on a farm on your family's estate back in Boston, and your families were close. Your father even paid for Charles to attend school, after which Charles moved to New Orleans to work as a metalsmith. Harry Tudor, well, I'll be damned. What brings you all the way down here? Oh, long story. I'm supposed to be building an ice house for Frederick, but it's all falling apart.

Oh, how's that? Well, the investors have failed. We're short $2,000. Charles shakes his head sympathetically. Oh, that's rough. So what now? I guess I'll have to return to Boston, tell Frederick the plan's off. But I hate to let him down. He's worked so hard to set this up. Well, I wish I could help at $2,000. I don't have that kind of money.

But, well, I could put a word in with a few friends, though. Maybe we could pool our resources. Oh, I can't take your money, Charles. Yes, you can. Your family was good to me. I think it's time to repay the favor. Charles holds out his hand, and you grasp it and shake. Well, thank you.

You don't know what this means to me. You don't know what it means to Frederick. whole family. There's another thing I can do for you, too. What's that? Let me get you a glass of the local stuff. You know, they don't call this bourbon street for nothing. You spend the evening catching up with your old friend and his acquaintances, and by night's end, everything has changed. Charles and his buddies agreed to invest in the ice house, and instead of riding home to explain your failure, you can tell Frederick that you hit a bump in the road, but overcame it. Thanks to an unexpected face from the past, the New Orleans venture is back on track.

Within weeks of his arrival in New Orleans, Harry Tudor had used a loan from Charles Whitman to purchase a plot of land and build an ice house. And by the spring of 1821, the first shipment of ice was on its way to New Orleans. But when it arrived, Harry found he was on his own, without any advice or support from Frederick, who had been forced to turn his attention away from expanding his ice empire to confront a looming crisis in Cuba. In the spring of 1821, Frederick Tudor's Charleston and Savannah icehouses were still as popular as they had been for the past few years, but in Havana, sales had ground to a halt. Thieves had broken into Tudor's ice house there, hoping to make off with the money stored in its safe, and during the raid, the manager was shot and killed. Tudor quickly hired a replacement, but a few weeks later, the new manager caught yellow fever.

The ice house was closed while the manager took to his sickbed, and he soon took a turn for the worse and succumb to his illness. As a result, Tudor was forced to recruit yet another ice house manager, the third in under a year, and all the while he knew that every day's delay meant his profits were literally melting away. The strain of these unfortunate events took a toll on Tudor. All year long, he'd been suffering from ill health at home in Boston. He confided in his diary that he was experiencing anxiety and insomnia, and at one point he even suffered hallucinations. In the late spring, he recovered from one bout of illness only to come down with a fever which left him unable to get out of bed. And by that fall, Tudor had reached a breaking point.

Imagine it's fall 1821 at the Tudor family home near Boston Massacre. You place your ear against the door of your brother-in-law Frederick's bedroom. You know you shouldn't be eavesdropping, but worry has gotten the better of you. For the last few months, your wife's brother, Frederick, hasn't been his usual, confident self. Recently, he's taken to his bed and refused to leave his room. Now it's so bad that you've summoned the local physician, Dr. Jackson. You straighten quickly as the bedroom door opens. Dr. Jackson steps out carrying a bowl.

You peer past him into the room and see Frederick lying motionless, eyes fixed blankly on the wall. His skin looks as pale as sheets. You pull the door closed and then follow Dr. Jackson down the hallway. Well, doctor, what's the verdict? The doctor turns, and you take note of the dark red liquid in the bowl he's carrying.

Well, he's showing all the signs of nervous exhaustion, Mr. Gardner. Not sleeping, poor hygiene, no interest in company. I've done what I can for now. What have you prescribed? I've given him a dose of something that should help him sleep, but the main problem is that he's out. of balance, so I've taken some blood. I'll return to take more tomorrow. In my experience, it's the only way he'll get better. The doctor then continues down the hallway, but you follow

along at his side. What do you think brought this on? Oh, it could be any manner of things. Is there a history of nervous complaints in the family? No. And does the patient have any vices? Does he drink? Gamble? No. Has he been under any pressure? Oh, yes, he's in a very stressful business, doctor. He trades in ice, and it's not going so well at the moment. I fear he's over a extended himself. So yeah, I think it's fair to say he's been under some pressure. Well, then that's your answer, then. He needs bed rest and bleeding. Dr. Jackson reaches the front door, and you open it for him. He steps out to the curb and pours the bowl of blood he's holding into the gutter. Steam rises as it hits the cold ground, and you can't help but feel a little

queasy. He turned to the doctor. So you're saying that Frederick needs to take a step back? I mean, he lives to work, though. Being an ice trader is what defines him. And the family's financial outlook isn't that good at the moment. The loss of Frederick's income could be a disaster. Well, I am certainly sorry to hear that, but it's my professional opinion that if he doesn't rest, Mr. Tudor won't be long for this world. You watch as the doctor climbs into his carriage and drives off into the cold. After he's gone, you close the door and lean against it, resting your head on the wood. The weight of the physician's words sits heavy on your chest. Frederick is the best hope the family has of restoring its fortunes, so if he doesn't recover soon, you fear

you're all going to be out in the street. Frederick Tudor had spent 15 years defying the odds in the ice trade, but when a series of seemingly insurmountable catastrophe struck, one after the other, his health finally gave out. Overwhelmed, he collapsed into bed and withdrew entirely from daily life. It soon became clear to those around him that he was in no state to keep on top of a complex shipping business, with earnings and expenditures measuring in the tens of thousands of dollars. And doctors told Tudor that he needed to take a break and rest in a warmer climate. But Tudor was not willing to completely cut himself off from the business.

Instead, he agreed to a compromise. He would travel to Havana. There, he could supervise the training of a new ice house manager while also having a chance to take an extended break from the daily stress in Boston. Still, the rest of Tudor's ice empire couldn't be put on hold so somebody would need to run it in his absence. After some consideration, Tudor's brother-in-law, Robert Gardner, offered to put his real estate business on hold

so he could manage Tudor's affairs in Boston. And in the end, Gardner turned out to be a safe bet. In Tudor's absence, he kept the ice houses stocked, arranged the following winter's ice harvest, and managed the complex logistical chain of merchant ships leaving Boston with holds full of ice. And when the accounts ran short of cash, Gardner even topped them up from his own savings.

Meanwhile, Tudor's brother Harry was doing an equally good job in New Orleans. Having been left to run the Louisiana Ice House virtually by himself, Harry started operations from scratch. He found an alternative supplier of ice to carry him over in the first few weeks, and he followed his brother's low-price, high-volume sale strategy that had worked in Charleston and Savannah, finding it performed just as well in New Orleans. Prior to falling ill, Frederick had calculated that the New Orleans Ice House

needed to sell at least $10 of ice a day to break even. By midsummer 1821, just a few months after he began trading, Harry was earning four times that target, nearly $40 a day. Then, in early 1823, after more than a year away, Tudor finally returned to Boston from Havana. The break had done him good, and his health was fully recovered. And after managing to recruit and train a new manager in Havana, that ice house was once again making money.

Against all odds, Tudor's trade network was in great shape. During his absence, revenue had flooded in from Charleston, Savannah, and now New Orleans. And since his brother-in-law, Robert Gardner, hadn't attempted to break into any new markets, the company's spending had remained low. For the first time, Tudor's accounts now boasted a substantial cash reserve. But Frederick Tudor was never one to sit on his savings. Although the constant drive to expand had nearly destroyed his health, Tudor was still ready to go even further, and he now had a new destination in mind for his ice,

As always, he was prepared to risk everything to get there. From Wondery, this is episode three of our four-part series The Ice King from American History Tellers. On the next episode, Frederick Tudor's ice ships sail further from New England than ever before, but an unwise gamble soon sends him back to square one, forcing him to rebuild his fortune yet again. 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 Shazi, sound design by Molly Bach, music by Thrum. This episode, is written by Scott Reeves. Managing producer Desi Blaylock. Senior producers, Alita Rosanski

and Andy Beckerman. Executive producers are Jenny Lauart Beckman and Marshall Louis for Wondering.