Under the big top: the birth of Durham Ice Rink
In the late 1930s, as the Smith family’s booming ice-making business fell under threat with the advent of the domestic refrigerator, a crisis meeting was called, during which a momentous decision would be made. A decision which would be the defining moment that Durham Ice Rink came to be.
‘Icy’, with his family assembled around a table in the Bishops’ Mill - home of the Smith family, had a stunning proposition, and some might have said bonkers idea to bring to the table in order to save the family enterprise:
They were, and had been producing ice successfully for decades. So what was stopping them from trying to lay an ice skating floor and build an ice rink?
The answer to that question was, even with Icy’s extensive knowledge of refrigeratory engineering was …pretty difficult in all honesty.
But ‘Icy’ was quite rightly, and formidably known as “the man who refused to be beaten.”
Trials and tribulations
Lacking information on building an ice pad from scratch (long before Google was a thing), the family constructed a mini-version in 1937 to test various methods over two years.
The science college at Durham University was drafted in to assist: they were just as keen to glean data on the subject of “transmission of heat at low temperature” as much as Icy was anxious to get his skating rink off the ground. It was a beautiful trade off.
Success finally came in June 1939 - however the jubilation was quickly wiped out, because in a matter of weeks, so did the declaration that Britain was at now officially at war with Germany.
Because of the break out of war, the Smiths’ dream of constructing an ice ‘arena’ along the lines of the likes of Kirkcaldy, or Falkirk that had recently opened north of the border was now completely out of the question. Steel and key building materials had been requisitioned by the government for the war effort and all major building projects halted. The ‘big rink’ would have to wait.
Determined to get some form of ice rink up-and-running however, the Smiths forged ahead regardless as best they could. The row of workers’ houses that stood behind the old mill on Freeman’s Place was demolished, and the mill-race, that flowed north to the edge of ‘The Sands’ diverted and infilled to form the basis of the 197ft x 97ft ice pad that was about to take shape.
The momentous task of laying seven long miles of piping proved thoroughly uncooperative at the outset, and the weather caused even more headaches for the Smith family as they battled with their new project.
Open for business: Keep calm and carry on
Despite the setbacks, on March 8 1940, the ice rink - a strictly outdoor affair, surrounded by wooden boards and a corrugated iron pavilion was thrown open (without too much fanfare) to a curious Durham public who had likely never seen such a thing before. By some standards it may have been basic, but it was also a remarkable achievement.
Some of the very first skaters that day included “Tyneside’s No. 1 All-rounder,” Mr. Arthur George, a well-known figure, and a nine-year-old Joe Dixon - who would go on to become a champion Durham free and pairs figure skater.
So... against all odds, the rink was finally open for business. But it wasn’t long however, before a somewhat predictable problem emerged. As April rolled round, so did the warmer weather. And what does warm sunshine do to ice? (...Yep, got it in one.)
As springtime warmth melted the exposed ice pad, the family took shifts, working overnight to flood the ice and refreeze the surface. Despite their efforts, they were losing the battle against the elements. They tried protecting the surface with planks and corrugated sheeting but the ice corrugated too and became useless to skate on. There was only one thing for it. It needed a roof.
And if anyone could manage to acquire what was often cited as ‘the largest tent in europe’ during a World War, it was entrepreneurial ‘Icy’.
The makers of the ‘big top’ suggested it would last two years provided it was taken down in the winter, but because of the war-time black out, in order to keep the rink operating at night, the Smiths were forced to keep it in place 24/7. It lasted five years - during which, the rink never closed.
Now, obviously, anyone who has put a tent up knows that it needs poles to keep it up. And a massive tent, therefore needs massive poles. The trade off was that several of the huge wooden poles needed to be embedded slap bang in the middle of the ice pad itself - three down the middle of the ice and two each end.
While these massive poles were an inconvenient obstacle to skaters when the lights were on, on occasion the jeopardy for skaters was raised a notch: while German bombing raids over the region were fortunately rare, sometimes the air-raid siren would sound across the city in the middle of a skating session, and ‘black-out’ imposed. Undeterred, Durham skaters often adopted a ‘Keep Calm and Carry On’ attitude and would continue to stoically skate around in the pitch black, hoping not to collide with a post - or anyone else for that matter.
During the life of the tent it was never down longer than three weeks, even though emergency repairs often took up to three months to complete. The Smith family had to cope as best they could with the assistance of keen skaters who were willing to pitch in and help out.
Jim Hall, a local lad from Hetton was one of the dedicated hardcore of rink enthusiasts. A 16 year old at the time of the rink’s first years, he would go on to become one of the founding members of the Wasps. Remembering his formative years as the old rink, he recalled:
“Quite often, you’d turn up to skate and the roof had blown off.. you’d get there, and you’d have to help shovel a couple of inches of snow off the ice pad before you could even skate on it!”
In high winds - which were regular - ropes holding up the huge structure often snapped and poles and ridge bars broken. On one occasion a Mrs Welsh was hoisted 30 feet into the air when holding onto a guy rope as a gust of wind caught the fabric of the tent and sent her sailing skywards - fortunately ‘Icy’ Smith, who was a few feet away managed to grab the rope and haul the (rather unhappy) Mrs Welsh back down to ground level.
In another terrifying incident, John J. Smith (son of ‘Icy’) was left ‘clinging for his life’ to one of the centre poles high above the ice for 20 minutes while trying to secure the rink’s roof during a 100mph gale when both main ropes snapped, sending whole structure rising and falling 15 feet up and down in the air. He managed to successfully return to safety during the first sign of a lull.
And in February 1941 a tremendous snow storm, which isolated many parts of the North of England and pretty much cut off Durham City resulted in the tent being buried under 100 tons of snow. As the snow began to thaw, the tent was eventually discovered - remarkably embedded and frozen solid, half an inch under the surface of the ice pad itself. After a ten day recovery and reconstruction operation it was rebuilt and the rink ready to go again.
March 1941 saw the the ice rink’s first anniversary celebrations take place in the form of a grand carnival night. Reigning world ice skating champion, Cecilia Colledge, known at the time as Britain's 'Queen of the Ice' was invited as guest of honour, and performed a stunning skating display infront of a packed crowd. As well as being an acclaimed skater, Cecilia was also now a despatch rider in the Motor Transport Corps and had been an ambulance driver during the London Blitz. So taken by the city and people of Durham, and the ice rink in particular after her appearance - Cecilia later wrote to the Mayoress of Durham (Mrs. J. F. J. Smith) asking the privilege of spending her next forces’ leave at Durham
Cecilia Colledge
lderman Smith, far left. Joe Dixon (as a schoolboy, next to him) Alice Smith (small girl), behind her Mrs A.M. March, Cecilia Colledge to here right.
Speaking of the war effort, even ‘Icy’ pitched in during this time. And true to character, in a rather unconventional way: Writing the the Admiralty in May 1941, Mayor Smith - submitted a “scheme to deal with the German U-Boat menace”. While the details of this cunning plan to defeat Hitler’s submariners’ were never revealed, nevertheless, the Admiralty must have seen something in it - because they wrote back shortly afterwards to inform Mr Smith that “his idea is being actively pursued.".
…Have that, eh, Adolf.
Jolly (makeshift) hockey sticks
During the first few formative years at the rink the good-folk of County Durham had been taking to their new ice rink en-masse, including a significant number of young lads who were keen to take part in something a bit more hard-hitting than figure skating. Soon, informal ice hockey games began to be played with ‘knock-about’ teams formed. And for those who had been bitten by the rink-bug, often they thought nothing of travelling miles, often on foot, to get to the rink. As Jim Hall remembered:
“Us skaters used to walk miles from the villages to get to the rink. And if we got the chance we’d try and find somewhere to kip in the City on a Saturday night, so we could get to the rink early on Sunday morning. One lad, Lance Ripley was a fire-warden at the time during the war, and they had a base in the old Methodist Hall at the top of North Road where we’d quite often stay overnight.
We used to sleep anywhere just so that we could stay in Durham and be able to play hockey or skate the next morning! One of the lads we skated with was from Middleton in Teesdale… and he used to walk ten miles to get to a bus route which would take him to Durham – just to skate!”
The hockey played at the rink during these early days was rudimentary to say the least. Equipment, sticks and skates were hard to come by because of the war, clothing rations meant everything was an unaffordable luxury, and so padding was improvised, and hockey sticks fashioned out of anything the budding-players could get their hands on. ‘Proper’ hockey skates were as rare as hens teeth, and so the Durham lads, armed with their DIY sticks,in the main, honed their hockey-skating skills on figure skates instead.
J.J. Smith wholeheartedly embraced the ice hockey side of things, and while ‘Icy’ himself was more endeared to ‘traditional’ ice skating, J.J. would regularly referee games between groups of local lads who had begun to form their own teams.
Indeed, it was during this period that the nucleus of local teenage talent formed, who would ultimately become the Durham Wasps, including Robert ‘Butch’ Cartwright, Russ Proudfoot, Joe Stephenson, and Jim Hall who all hailed from around the County from Ferryhill to Pity Me:
“We were never an ‘official team’ as such for a good few years. It wasn’t until the second Durham rink was built – the one that everyone will be familiar with that the Wasps ‘proper’ came about. But yes, it was a lot of the lads that started playing hockey back in those days that went on to form the first Wasps team.”
Durham’s first skating champions
After establishing Durham Ice Skating Club soon after the rink opened, 1942 saw the very first Durham Free Skating Championships held, a highlight which would become an perennial fixture on the rink’s calendar. The inaugural Men’s Championship title went to Joseph Dixon who, remarkably was only 12 years old. The Durham County Advertiser reported that the young Dixon
“… showed extraordinary skill on the ice for one so young and bids fair to become a skater of outstanding class.”
The Ladies’ Championship produced a dead-heat between Sylvia Taylerson and Erica Irwin for first place, on re-skating the following week Sylvia nicked it by the width of a skate-blade and took first place by 30 points to Erica’s 29.
Meanwhile, far away in London, in the dark corridors of Whitehall, discussions between the British and Canadian governments were taking place which, as a by-product, would have a profound impact on the Durham rink: a strategic wartime move which would begin three years of what was quite possibly one of the most remarkable and ‘hidden’ episodes of ice hockey history on these islands. The Canadians were coming.
