The Legend of the Ice Worm began in the early days of Dawson, Yukon Territory during a blitzkrieg of blizzards. Stroller White, a Klondike newsman, was sent forth to rustle up any item of interest as the town was hunkered down against the weather and no new story could be had. Stroller was empty headed as he made his way through ice fog back to his editor's office to give up on fresh news when he heard sled runners on the dry packed snow. Or was it?
According to Stroller, the Great Iceworm thrives in extreme cold and at 70 degrees below, breaks loose with a tremor from a glacial blue ice Shangri-La followed by a new years' batch of babies. At a predictable time the joyous Iceworms would commence to serenade the Citizens of Dawson with their squeaky chirping late at night 'til early morn beneath a kaleidoscopic aurora.
In the early days, news traveled slow and grew along the way. In London and Washington D.C. scientific communities were excited to send expeditions to confirm this Icewormipuss strollerinsus. Then a writer from the Philadelphia Ledger printed the original story, adding his own choice editorial comments. Stroller White's Iceworms were left unmolested by science. However as urban spread reached Alaska with the early Gold Rush, sightings and serenades became more frequent. Usually near local Saloons such as those frequented by the Bard of the Yukon, Robert W. Service who wrote "Ballad of the Iceworm Cocktail" about the primitive tradition of mixing drinks with a featured worm:
The larval form of the moth Hypopta agavis sits in the bottom of a jug of Mexican mescal and when eaten seems to induce concentrated effect of inebriation in a very short time. Unlike the mescal worm of Mexico the Iceworm found in an Iceworm cocktail (whether alcoholic or non-alcoholic,) tends to deliver a predilection for giggling and fireworks and can look like a piece of cooked spaghetti. Whoever could "down the worm" became an anointed sourdough Alaskan. And the challenge has rung out ever since, "Belly-up and bottoms up, Cheechakos!" as newcomers to the state are taunted to drink the Iceworm cocktail.
In the dead of winter January 1961, a couple of old sourdoughs sat in Cordova partaking of their preferred "antifreeze." They wondered why the social scene couldn't be livened up by celebrating the Great Iceworm itself. Ohmer Wehr, manager of the Windsor Hotel (now the USFS parking lot) and bush pilot Merle "Mudhole" Smith, owner of Cordova Airlines, talked with friends and the idea caught on. John LeFevre promoted the idea as did Capt. H.E. Bonser, who ran the Cordova Times. It took one afternoon to raise $1,000 from local businesses and Cordova Airlines offered a one-day $15 round-trip, special ticket leaving Anchorage at 7 a.m. returning at midnight, including transportation to town and admission to the crab feed.
The first head of the Great Iceworm was built in the lobby of the Windsor hotel by Ohmer Wehr. The face of the Iceworm changed many times over the years from a horn-snouted beast to a happy faced, button-nosed glow worm, and then back again to the dragon with the crescent wrench-shaped snout.
Normally the 5th and 6th grade are just the right size and strength to provide feet and handle the choreography of the huge worm. And each year they gather at the top of First Street hill at the very end of the parade line up and make a grand wormy-squirmy march promenade for the parade finale.
"We were legs when we were kids. I'd say around 1975," said Shawn Gilman. "They taught us how to hump it up and wiggle the tail. I don't know if we were very good at it but it was a lot of fun."
In the past Per Nolan had even recruited kid's basketball teams for the job of legging it down First Street.
The choreography and success of the worm's progression down the hill and into the crowded main street area depends on competent Beast Masters, who over the years have included Bruce Ballum and Jon Branshaw and most recently Butch West.
The Great Iceworm waggles down the street with imperial authority like a Chinese New Year dragon. Indeed we are welcoming the Year of the Dragon which means an auspicious future, potent and benevolent power for all!
A circa 1979 very popular kid's sing-along, The Iceworm Theme Song, was written by RJ Kopchack; somewhat sung to the tune of Dr. Hook's "On The Cover of The Rolling Stone."
This story was first published The Cordova Times.