More Than a Chance in Hell: The Casey’s New Orleans Snowballs Story

Casey's New Orleans Snowballs owner Mars Chapman (Photos by Jana Birchum)

What's the difference, really? Between a so-called snowball and most of the other frozen-water confections that are available from trucks and trailers and more permanent structures all over this city in our hottest months? Isn't it all just ice, ice, baby?

"The difference is in how it's made," says Mars Chapman, the man who owns and runs Casey's New Orleans Snowballs, the tiny powerhouse of frozen treats that's been gracing the intersection of Airport Boulevard and 51st Street for more than two decades. "Traditionally, your sno-cone, you're gonna take cubes of ice and put them in a machine that grinds them – so what you get are these little crunchy spheres, basically. They don't really pack together very well, and when you pour syrup on 'em, most of it goes right to the bottom. Whereas we take a block of ice and put it into a machine that shaves it, making these fluffy little snowflakes, and so when we pack them together in a cup they're kind of like a sponge that holds the syrup in, distributes it more evenly throughout the whole cup – and that snow is just super soft and velvety and melts in your mouth. That's the difference."

The whole story of how this beloved neighborhood icon came to be and how it's evolved over the years is related at length on the company's website, so we'll just gloss it for you here. Back in 1996, Suzy Casey Gallagher and Kit Thompson, a couple from Louisiana, decided to replicate their family's Metairie-based business in Austin. "I think they had a trailer on the Drag for one or two years," says Chapman, "before they purchased and renovated the space where we currently are. I found out about this place on 51st when I was less than 10 years old: My aunt brought me here a few times, and then I started coming here with my mom and dad."

Chapman's mom and dad – Pattye Henderson and Cliff Chapman – were enchanted by the frozen-treat business, its chilly pleasures, and the welcoming community around it. "So my dad got a job washing bottles here," says Chapman, "and then he learned how to make snowballs." And eventually decided, with his employers' blessings, to set up a similar place of his own across town. "In 2000, we drove to Alabama to get a trailer, stopped in New Orleans and got supplies on the way back, and, well – it snowballed from there."

It snowballed, says the thirtysomething man with the earnest smile and an entrepreneurial twinkle in his eye. He remembers how his parents worked their own trailer, called Raspas, over on Anderson Lane for seven years, recalls what it was like growing up as part of that family business.

"My very first job was working for my parents, harvesting the ice. And we started out in a way that – I will fully own this – was not exactly code-compliant: We were making ice out of our dining room. We had a commercial block icemaker in there, and the condenser for it was under the house – we lived in a pier-and-beam house over in Hyde Park – and we had a deep freezer on the other side of the doorway. So we'd be in there, makin' all the ice. And, obviously, you aren't supposed to do that – but that was many years ago. We haven't done it like that for a long time since – I wanna be real clear about that!"

The Raspas company was sold to a former employee in 2008 so Chapman's parents could take over Casey's from its original owners. Then, much time passing and retirement ensuing for the snowball-loving couple of Pattye and Cliff, the company passed over to their son Mars and his longtime co-worker Kyle Littlepage. And now, at the tail end of a pandemic and the ramping up of global warming, it's just Mars Chapman as head honcho, overseeing a happy crew of icemongers in a place that's open only … seasonally?

"People always think we open on Memorial Day," says Chapman. "But we don't – we open on March 1, or around there. And we stay open until about Halloween. We're closed for about four months of each year and open for eight months."

Is the crew happy for real, though? They seem happy enough as they greet you at the window and take your order for something sweet and cold to soothe your heat-embattled senses. But is Casey's actually a good place to work? Chapman, who's aligned the company with the industry-progressive collective of Good Work Austin, tries to make sure of it. "We guarantee that all of our servers earn at least $15 an hour – they get a base wage and we pool tips by pay period. And we're adding a highly subsidized primary care benefit for our staff, so, for like 15 bucks a month, they'll be able to call up a physician. And, yes, it's just direct care, it's not health insurance – but it's something. And I have a stance that, if a snowball shop can do that, why can't somebody else? If we can find a way, with this seasonal business model, to treat people well and provide subsidized health care, this is what all businesses should be doing. Casey's is nowhere near perfect, but we're always gonna try to do the right thing if we can."

And what's one of the rightest things they can do for their customers? To offer a respite from the harsh Texas sun, we suggest – by continuing to serve up the snowballs we like best. Which are what, precisely?

Chapman appreciates this question, his taste buds obviously familiar with the wares he so vigorously promotes. "The most popular flavors of the regular ones are strawberry, pineapple, tiger blood – which is a strawberry and coconut mix – and mango. And our most popular creamy flavor is strawberry cheesecake, which tastes just like you'd think, and all the others are fighting for second place."

Snowballs from Casey's

Yes, let's not forget about those creamy flavors: They're the not-so-secret weapon that sets Casey's array of goodness apart from so many others.

"Our creamy flavors are unique to us," confirms Chapman. "They're typical in New Orleans, the creamy and dessert-y flavors, and we offer multiple varieties: Orchid Cream Vanilla, which tastes like the marshmallows in Lucky Charms; and the Dreamsicle, which is orange cream and vanilla bean; and the Boston cream pie – that's custard syrup with cream topping and chocolate drizzled on top, and it's my personal favorite. Custard is the most underappreciated flavor on our menu. If you put custard and almost any other flavor, and a little bit of vanilla and cream, it'll make a pie or a cobbler or a muffin sort [of] thing. So if you take blueberry and sour apple and add it to that, you'll get this delicious apple pie flavor."

Your reporter, having skipped lunch, is nigh on drooling at this point. This effect is mitigated, though, as he, an ardent enemy of Mentha spicata, suddenly notices that the flavor is listed among the noncreamy options on Casey's menu.

What is this treachery? Why must there be some foul serpent among the wonders of snowball paradise?

"The spearmint's not going away," insists Chapman, "because that's a classic New Orleans flavor. So as long as we're called Casey's New Orleans Snowballs, we will have it on the menu. Because if someone comes here from Louisiana, they'll be like, 'You say you're New Orleans snowballs, but you don't have spearmint? You aren't real.' So we're keeping it."

They'll be keeping the longtime shop at 51st and Airport, too, although plans are in the works for a remodeling. And when – if, Chapman points out, because it depends on available funds – when the remodeling's being done, it won't interrupt service as would be the case for other businesses: because seasonal, remember? We remembered, and to wrap this story properly, we had to ask. Not about any potential remodeling action, but just in general: What happens during the four months that Casey's is closed?

"Uh, I live?" Chapman replies.

And this place just … hangs out?

"This place hangs out," Chapman nods. "And it sucks money – that's what it does.

"When my mom and dad bought the business, they also bought the property. And that's a godsend because of just how expensive it is between property taxes and rent. Especially now, with my parents retired and not involved in the business at all, the fact that we're paying them rent, that's a way for the money to stay in the family. Otherwise, if we'd been paying that out, it'd drastically change the economic viability of the business for us."

Chapman's gaze shifts around the interior of his store, taking in the front window and the line of customers beyond, the stainless steel tables and neatly arranged bottles of syrup in the prep area, the ice-shaving equipment and his bustling crew of young workers. He smiles, nodding, more satisfied than wistful.

"Nobody gets rich making snowballs," he says, "but it is a nice quality of life."

Casey's New Orleans Snowballs