January 2010
Ice Man
By Jennifer Adler
But don’t tell that to Nick Majerus, the Rochester resident (born in Winona) who’s cumulatively spent over six years of his life working on “The Ice,” as it’s called by those adventurous enough to make the trek. Or to his daughter, or brother, or niece, for that matter—who all joined him at some point or another. In fact, so many members of the Majerus clan have worked on “The Ice” that one of Antarctica’s permanent fixtures is now named Mount Majerus.
Today, Majerus keeps busy with sculpting and painting military miniatures for his small business The Regimental S4. (S4 is the military term for the people who handle supplies for the army—check out his miniatures at www.theregimentals4.com). Nick and his wife, Mary, also work with the National Science Foundation to develop unique items to distribute for tourists and workers in Antarctica, like mugs, pins, sweatshirts, and anything else you’d find in a gift shop when you visit “The Ice.” They currently live in Rochester, where Nick and Mary raised two daughters and have one grandson—and a granddog.
Rochester Magazine: How did you get started working in Antarctica?
Nick Majerus: I’m a retired construction worker now. But way back in 1980, I was looking to work overseas, like in Saudi Arabia, because that’s where the “big bucks” were. I’d been overseas with the service, of course, but I had no experience with getting a job overseas. A company out of New Jersey ran an advertisement in the Minneapolis paper, and they were looking for all trades and crafts to work in Antarctica. I sent out a one-page letter, saying I was a construction worker and I’d like to work there. About two months later, there was a telegram stuck under the door that they wanted to interview me. So I flew to New York, interviewed, and was given the job at the end of the day. That started the whole thing going.
RM: You obviously enjoyed it—at least, enough to go back a few times.
NM: I went [on] five trips in the 80s, and then work had picked up back here, so I didn’t go for a while. In 1990, things were slow here again, so I tossed my hat back into the ring and went back. I did seven trips then. And in 1991, I hired my brother… a few years later, my daughter came down, and the next year, his daughter came down. It really turned into a family affair at that point.
RM: What were you doing there?
NM: The Department of Defense had put a lot of money into Antarctica at one point, because with the Cold War, we had to establish a base in the South Pole. McMurdo is the base where we were, which is a scientific research base, like a small town of 1,000 when the people are there working. So there are lots of scientists who need support, kind of like the Army—for every guy that’s fighting up on the line, you have to have all these people behind them, support folks. We were basically there to rebuild the base. We were putting up new buildings, helping build a new science lab, a new power plant, new barracks.
RM: What cool things were they doing? Anything classified?
NM: Everything was for science… but there were some cool things. I mean, the scientists were doing something else, but it all had defense applications. One year, they built a fence that ran five miles in one direction, then came back the next year and made a big “X” out of it. Turns out they could communicate with submarines that were submerged. There was something that would report back to missiles, and they could also tell anywhere in the world that lightning had struck—they could tell where it hit. The Navy is no longer there, and they were scaling back. The only military there now are flying cargo planes. They’re just flying in and out. Otherwise, everything is totally civilian.
RM: And how did you get a mountain named after your family?
NM: The geological survey was going to map the area, and so you can petition to have a mountain, lake, glacier, whatever named after you, but it has to be approved by them and also sent on to the New Zealand government and has to be approved by them. With all of our years down there, and with it being quite a few of us having done it, I wanted it to be named after the family. I sent off the petition, and it was approved. So now there’s a Mount Majerus right there, named in 2005. I don’t know if I’ll ever get there to see it. You know, you could take a cruise down there, but you probably couldn’t get close enough. If you got there on a cloudy day, you couldn’t really see anything. It’s all timing.
RM: What’s the travel itinerary like to get to Antarctica? I’m guessing there aren’t any direct flights.
NM: You’d take your bags, fly to Los Angeles, then take an international flight to Hawaii, and then to Auckland, New Zealand. Then you’d fly down to Christchurch, New Zealand, where all the centers and warehouses for Antarctica were. The trip to New Zealand probably took 11 hours from L.A., once we started flying direct and skipping Hawaii. From Christchurch, you’d fly military aircraft down to Antarctica; so you’d suit up, get your bags, sit on the plane ... and you still weren’t guaranteed to get there. You have the halfway point—the point of no return—where the airplane can’t go back because it doesn’t have enough fuel to make it back. So they have to make the decision before they hit the “point of no return” as to whether or not they’re going to go on. And they’re just the tiny web-seats in a military plane—just a pipe with a net in between.
RM: So not a quick trip. How about communicating with people back home, since this was before cell phones and email?
NM: In the beginning, you could only call on an AM radio, and you’d get an operator. And they’d patch it through, and you’d have to say “over.” For instance, you’d say “I love you—over.” And [my wife] would say, “What’d you say?” and the operator would say “He said he loves you!” And it would take at least three weeks to get a letter home—15 days if you made good connections. So if you asked a question, it was a good portion of time before you’d get an answer back. So once, early on, Mary asked me a question that she had already taken care of by the time I got the question three weeks later. It was more difficult on her than it was on me, raising two daughters here by herself. We decided for her not to send me any bad information that I’d have to worry about, because I couldn’t really leave. Sure, you could end your contract, but if you quit early, you don’t get your bonus or anything else. So she waited to tell me anything until I got home and could deal with it, if possible.
RM: Now, a really important question: Are you related to [college basketball coach] Rick Majerus?
NM: I always get asked that, and we don’t honestly know ... there’s a lot around here though. My immediate family is around here. My family is all from Luxembourg, and apparently, Majerus is like Smith or Jones over there. My daughter went to Luxembourg, and she said the cemetery’s full of Majeruses! My family came over in the 1850s and settled in the Whitewater valley.
RM: How did you get into the miniatures business?
NM: I just started sculpting and painting these items. I started in 1981 to make something for someone who was retiring. I cut out the wood, put it together, painted it, took it to Chicago for the Military Miniature Society of Illinois, and got a silver medal for it. It’s a very small niche in the figure business—the military, that is. There are these beautiful figures of German soldiers and other things out there. I’m working on women in the military—it’s hard to find some photos to use. Between that and helping Mary with her business down in Antarctica [developing and shipping unique items to distribute for tourists and workers on “The Ice”], every year we keep in touch with people. She has to go to the Denver office once a year to talk with the buyers in the stores there, and everything that’s going down on this year’s ship will be sold next year in the ship. Patches, pins, jewelry, ornaments, mugs, cups ... all kinds of merchandise. It keeps us busy.