During a recent reorganization effort of my squirrel files, those slightly more organized companions to my squirrel bins, I came across newspaper clippings entitled “Frozen Gold.” The title probably caught my eye because of all the things I’ve found in My Old House, gold is not one of them (not even one measly coin).

However, this frozen gold referred to ice blocks, those huge chunks necessary for the true “ice boxes” of early refrigeration days. Ice harvesting was once big industry on the Kennebec River in Maine, as I discovered by reading old newspaper clippings liberated from my files. The Augusta Ice Company was still in business as late as January 1934, when it cut (in one week) 45,000–50,000 cakes, or about 7,000 tons of ice from the Kennebec River “above the dam” (Augusta). The ice blocks were covered in sawdust and stored in ice houses.

Noting the size of the ice blocks, I can really appreciate the ice-block-free refrigeration in My Old House!

Commercial ice harvesting required laying out a “field” of 120 blocks of ice from the main field. Barmen cut the ice into strips, pickmen floated the blocks into an open canal with long-handled picks to an elevator. The entire operation required many men, many horses, and employed a variety of workers including blacksmiths, carpenters, cooks, and managers of the boarding houses owned and maintained by the ice companies.

Ice harvesting was not limited to commercial operations, however. My paternal grandfather, Rex Church (1883–1956) owned the property abutting My Old House, over one hundred acres which included ponds, brooks, and springs. Out of my squirrel bins came photos taken about 1922 of my grandfather, my uncle, and hired help (carefully watched by my aunt, the then-toddler Pauline) cutting ice blocks from a pond they dammed in early fall for the purpose of obtaining enough ice blocks to store against refrigeration needs in warmer weather. Noting the size of the ice blocks, I can really appreciate the ice-block-free refrigeration in My Old House!

My grandfather’s ice saw and tongs shown in the photos lived in my garage (also known as a very large squirrel bin) until our last downsizing effort. The sleds, horse, people, and even the pond have gone the way of all good things, and have taken their places in the stories of my family’s history. I may not have gold bars, but we do get lots of that “frozen gold!”