How the embarrassment of Fairbanks importing ice from Seattle revived a lost art form

FAIRBANKS — While checking out the ice sculptures of the World Ice Art Championships on a 10-degree night, marveling at the intricacy of these most fragile works of art, I reminded myself that none of this would have happened had Fairbanks not embarrassed itself decades ago by importing ice from Seattle.

It all began with a decision in 1987 that seemed as pointless as sending Champagne to France or sand to Saudi Arabia. But the shame of shipping 390 small blocks of ice to Fairbanks in the middle of winter did more than anything else to focus the attention of our most creative characters on what should have always been a local product.

The winter tradition of ice sculpture in Fairbanks has become solidly established over the past three decades and Ice Alaska has persevered, overcoming fire and unpredictable weather to create an international show of short-lived sculptures.

[Despite cold snap and a fire-destroyed building, World Ice Art Championships carry on]

A solid group of ice believers, all of them dedicated volunteers, have worked with local and state leaders to accomplish far more than what seemed possible when the Fairbanks Chamber of Commerce began experimenting with ice in the late 1980s.

In one sense, it was simply a matter of rediscovering forgotten skills of the past. In the early decades of Fairbanks, the ice harvest was an essential part of winter, with techniques that local workmen had long mastered.

In 1927, the early electric refrigerators were enough of a novelty to warrant newspaper coverage: "The Frigidaire freezes ice by electricity and because of its convenience is being universally adopted in the states," the Fairbanks Daily News-Miner told its readers after the Mocha Cafe became the first restaurant with artificial ice.

By 1940, a man named Murray Smith was still harvesting upward of 1,000 tons of ice a year from the Chena River, figuring that people needed a pound of ice a day.

"To get clear ice, a pond is made by cutting and removing the ice from a river section 35 feet wide and 1,000 feet long," the ice man told reporter David Tewkesbury. "Sawed ice is hewed with axes into blocks of 200 or 300 pounds."

Ice sculptures were once a hallmark of Fairbanks winter celebrations, and the chamber of commerce tried to revive the tradition in the late 1980s.

But the techniques necessary to cut and move big pieces of ice had become dim memories by 1987, when promoter Chuck Rees deployed chain saws and portable trench machines to a gravel pit.

"Every time we get a chunk it falls apart," said Rees.

A year later the ice-supply problem had still not been solved and the special events director of the chamber of commerce, Peggy Ferguson, opted to get ice from Seattle, a decision that led to no end of ridicule and mockery.

"What was I to do without ice?" she said.

"The pressure was on because I had already contacted the American ice carving champion team from Chicago," said Ferguson, now the executive director of the Fairbanks Drama Association. Plus, the governor's office had helped arrange for ice carving experts from China to give a display of their skills.

"The ice was very cheap to purchase from Seattle," she said. TOTE Maritime and the Alaska Railroad donated shipping, but this was a blow to the psyche of the denizens of Frostbite Falls. It got people interested in ice again.

For Bernie Karl, who still sees every obstacle as a puzzle put there for his enjoyment, there had to be a better way:

"It's insanity to think that we in Alaska, especially Fairbanks, should have to import ice from Seattle," he told a reporter in early 1989.

"If we can't do it with local ice, we shouldn't have an ice festival," he said.

Jim, one of Bernie Karl's brothers, used scrap iron to create tongs that helped them learn how to retrieve 3,000-pound blocks of ice from a gravel pit. Ferguson said she is forever grateful that Bernie Karl solved the logistics and demonstrated the superiority of local ice.

Following that early success, the harvest techniques were refined and perfected. Through the efforts of numerous visionaries and people with mechanical aptitude, many millions of pounds of ice have been turned into sculptures that last just a few weeks, in that brief interlude between winter and summer. It happened again this year, thanks to Ice Alaska.

As for the artificial ice from Seattle, some consider it a debacle best forgotten, but it helped us discover and appreciate that the finest raw material for ice carving in the world was here all along.

Columnist Dermot Cole can be reached at dermot@alaskadispatch.com. 

The views expressed here are the writer's and are not necessarily endorsed by Alaska Dispatch News, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, email commentary@alaskadispatch.com. Send submissions shorter than 200 words to letters@alaskadispatch.com or click here to submit via any web browser.