Currently, in Colorado, we are familiar with the Ice Castles. This chilly attraction has once again opened to much enthusiasm in Cripple Creek, just as the company from Utah has launched another vivid collection of towers, arches, and tunnels in Eagle.
Let’s not forget, a more magnificent ice palace arose in this state 128 years prior.
At that time, it was not referred to as a castle, but instead a palace.
Historian Edward Blair remarked many years later: “As existing records indicate, the Leadville Ice Palace was the largest ice edifice ever erected in North America, and possibly the world.”
This narrates the brief, glorious existence of the Ice Palace — indeed brief yet far from overlooked in one small, secluded town high in the Rockies.
“To me, it’s another story of our tenacity,” states Aj Brokaw, local history and cataloguing coordinator at the Lake County Public Library in Leadville. “It’s another milestone in the manner Leadville has endeavored to persevere.”
The Ice Palace was a significant, daring advance in 1896.
One newspaper of that time noted: “The World progresses, Leadville takes a leap.”
The Ice Palace was reported to be 450 feet long and 320 feet wide, considerably larger than a football field. Towers reached heights of up to 90 feet flanking the main entrance that directly led to an enormous skating rink. On either side, dining and ballroom areas were available for dancing.
The music from the band on a balcony supposedly resonated throughout the venue, through the multicolored beams of light cascading down from the ceiling that was “like a bed of sparkling diamonds,” as described by historian Marian (Poppy) Smith.
Another narrative referred to the Ice Palace as “a Colossus in the Colorado Rockies,” featuring various exhibits and sculptures. One sculpture was Lady Leadville, positioned at the entrance, directing attention to the hills that contributed to the town’s previous affluence.
Leadville “wasn’t a place to settle for mediocrity,” Smith wrote. “Whether it involved mining or dining, working or celebrating, it approached the task at hand with robust frontier spirit.”
Thus it was with the Ice Palace. The recognition was widespread upon its opening around the commencement of the new year.
The debut followed a parade of a cowboy band, uniformed soldiers, and dressed dignitaries. The streets were “lined with hundreds of eager-faced children and adults,” as Blair documented in his book, “Palace of Ice.”
A reporter from the local Herald Democrat noted: “It was the people in their mightiest and most magnificent manner uniting as one to vow loyalty to the public endeavor that has had no equal in contemporary history.”
The preceding months had seen local business owners organize construction, handyman chopping ice blocks from lakes and rivers, and townsfolk contributing whatever little they could financially.
These were thrilling months in a time that had been anything but.
“Conditions were quite harsh around Leadville,” remarks Brokaw.
The town had flourished in the 1860s after gold was discovered, and it boomed once more after the silver find of 1877. Tens of thousands flocked to the mines, including Horace Tabor, the magnate deemed the wealthiest man in one of America’s richest areas.
However, the repeal of the Sherman Silver Purchase Act in 1893 depleted Tabor’s wealth — and left Leadville struggling.
This was the dismal context in which that splendid palace emerged, the backdrop of a narrative that captivates Colorado historians like Jan MacKell Collins.
A realtor named Edwin Senior emerged. He is credited with the concept of a tourist attraction that would invigorate the local economy.
It appears Senior was inspired by ice palaces constructed in Canada and Minnesota during the 1890s. He envisioned one larger, clearly “not hesitant to dream big,” as Collins points out.
But perhaps not large enough. Senior lost favor among fellow organizers as funds were slow to materialize.
“His supporters were enthusiastic talkers and had achieved much,” Blair wrote, “but without the backing of the town’s bankers and major mine and smelter owners, the Ice Palace remained a vision.”
Tingley Wood possessed such connections, being a mining executive himself. He was chosen by popular demand to lead the charge, regardless of his daunting requirement that $20,000 be raised.
Accounts recount a gathering among affluent men, including the spouse of notable socialite Molly Brown. James Brown is famously quoted from the gathering: “Gentlemen, it is futile to discuss any longer until we observe some funds in sight. I pledge $500.”
Funds reportedly came swiftly. “Wood wasted no time in the driver’s seat,” Blair wrote. “He contacted C.E. Joy, the architect, to come right away.”
Joy was the mastermind behind Minnesota’s ice palace. Leadville’s would indeed be larger — true to the ambitious thinking that would be matched by sheer determination.
A local wood and steel specialist “worked vigorously” while others busied themselves with chopping ice blocks that were transported by teams of four horses. Throughout Leadville and extending to Palmer Lake, “the ice blocks were cut and shaped by stone cutters, but it was discovered they worked too slowly,” Blair noted, “so a group of Canadian lumberjacks were enlisted.”
The newspapers reported that 250 to 350 men assembled 5,000 tons of ice in under 40 days. The ice was stacked and sprayed with water that served as mortar. “I wore two coats most of the time,” stated one worker.
Yet sunny weather and chinook winds obstructed hopes of opening by Christmas. To prevent the icy monument from melting, workers hurried to cover it with canvas.
They celebrated victory with a parade — “a dramatic transformation,” Blair wrote. “Leadville, for one moment, set aside its stress and struggles.”
The images astonish historians today. Brokaw, for one, finds it hard to envision the structure being duplicated even with our modern advancements nearly 130 years on. “It was just incredible,” she notes.
It was the highlight of the Crystal Carnival that attracted Denver residents by train to enjoy dances, fireworks, ice skating and hockey contests, toboggan runs, and all the “festivity” promised by the town’s official invitation for “King Pleasure.”
But inevitably, the Ice Palace mirrored Leadville’s boom-and-bust pattern. For one, “it was significantly more expensive to operate than the promoters anticipated,” notes Collins.
The exact number of tickets sold remains unclear, but apparently it was insufficient to satisfy investors. Local merchants also weren’t seeing the returns they had hoped for, adds Collins. “And then in March came a warm spell.”
The palace began to melt.
“It will soon exist but as a memory akin to a child’s fairy tale,” read the local newspaper.
It’s a story worth recalling, asserts Brokaw — a narrative of resilience that also hinted at Leadville’s future in tourism.
“Initially, it was very much a mining town,” Brokaw mentions. “It was only when mining declined that they began to seek alternative ways to remain viable. That’s where the Ice Palace entered the picture.”
Even after all these years, it remains memorable. And perhaps it’s no mystery, Brokaw remarks.
“It’s just something that continually sparks the imagination,” she affirms. “Simply because, who wouldn’t want to behold a grand castle?”