The Village That Sugar Built
Inside Prescott’s 33-Year Gingerbread Tradition
Writer Joseph J. Airdo
For 33 years, a peculiar urban planning project has unfolded each December in the lobby of the Prescott Resort and Conference Center. No zoning permits required. No architectural reviews. Just gingerbread, royal icing, and an inexhaustible supply of community spirit transforming a mountain resort into Arizona’s sweetest destination.
The gingerbread village isn’t simply a holiday display — it’s a living chronicle of connection, an edible testament to what happens when creativity meets tradition, when competition embraces collaboration, and when the simple act of building something together becomes infinitely more valuable than the thing itself.
“It truly takes a village to make the village,” says Suzan Doran, property controller at Prescott Resort and Conference Center and the affectionately dubbed “mayor of the gingerbread village.”
For 19 of those 33 years, Doran has shepherded this beloved tradition through its evolution from modest beginnings to what now stands as one of the world’s largest gingerbread village displays. She’s watched participation ebb and flow — some years heavy with youth and school entries, others dominated by families and individuals. Yet through every iteration, the essential magic has remained constant.
“We begin planning in August, and that marks the unofficial start of the holiday season for us,” Doran says. “By early September, the first lots are usually purchased. When drop-off day finally arrives, it’s such a joy to listen to everyone’s stories about their creations. Honestly, hearing those stories is one of my favorite parts of the entire event.”
Those stories arrive each year in roughly 70 edible installments, as participants purchase “lots” — cottage, bungalow, or estate-sized — and transform them into architectural fantasies limited only by imagination and the laws of candy-based physics. The entries compete across five categories: corporate/business, nonprofit organizations, family/individual, youth, and schools. Judges evaluate each creation blindly, ensuring that craft alone determines the winners.
Royal Icing and Rivalry
Among the village’s most formidable builders is a team from Sturm, Ruger & Co., the firearms manufacturer with deep Prescott roots. For years, their entries have dominated the corporate category with a technical precision and artistic ambition that consistently raises the bar.
“We try to be unique in our ideas and hope we do well enough that people enjoy coming back to see the exhibit year after year,” says Jammie Cheatham, senior accountant at Ruger and the creative force behind the team’s perennial success.
Cheatham’s process begins in mid-October with brainstorming sessions that yield themes ranging from whimsical to ambitious. One year, a colleague’s mention of snowmen decorating cacti sparked “Arizona Christmas.” Another time, talk of gnomes and snowflakes evolved into “Snowflake and the Seven Gnomes.” Both took first place.
“The most important thing I remind everyone is that the creation has to be mostly edible,” Cheatham says. “You may come up with a great concept, but then you have to figure out how to bring it to life using food.”
That challenge reached its apotheosis in 2017 with “United at Christmas,” an entry that remains Cheatham’s most meaningful achievement. She invited each team member to create a traditional Santa from a different country, sculpting faces from fondant and building bodies from gingerbread muffins. One team member, doubting her creative abilities, decorated gingerbread Christmas trees instead — and did, as Cheatham recalls, “a beautiful job.”
“It was our first first-place win, but perhaps the greatest compliment came from a friend who overheard a family viewing our exhibit,” Cheatham says. “They thought the Santas were porcelain dolls, and my friend was delighted to let them know she knew for certain they were made of gingerbread and fondant.”
The technical achievement required strategic engineering: a small piece of Styrofoam beneath each face, toothpicks holding arms in place — well within the guidelines that allow 25% non-edible materials while requiring at least 25% gingerbread. The team far exceeded both requirements.
Fondant and Family
While the Ruger team pursues perfection, other participants embrace a different philosophy — one where imperfection becomes part of the story and family connection trumps competition every time.
Lisa Fredrickson has been building gingerbread entries for more than 17 years alongside her aunt, mother, sister-in-law and cousin. The tradition began with a simple suggestion from her aunt, who loved to bake, and Fredrickson’s own crafty inclinations. What started as a trio has expanded into a flexible collaborative that sometimes includes friends, family and neighbors — especially when little ones want to join.
“We begin by brainstorming ideas and inspirations we’ve gathered throughout the year, then settle on a theme that tells a story about what we’re depicting,” Fredrickson says.
Her process involves countless cardboard and construction paper drafts, her aunt’s marathon baking sessions, her mother’s sketches and her husband’s role as character critic. Without his feedback, she admits, she might never finish the job.
One year, that husband became part of the exhibit itself. Fredrickson had him pose so she could capture his stance for a Santa character. When their village was featured in a news clip, the reporter pointed out the resemblance, much to the family’s delight.
Yet for all the creative triumphs and memorable moments, Fredrickson insists the outcome matters far less than the journey — the weekends spent decorating together, the creative differences navigated, the sore fingers and stained fingernails, and ultimately the joy of sharing their finished creation with the community.
Sue Beyea understands that conviction intimately. Her gingerbread journey began about 20 years ago with a Bible study and mentoring program for young mothers. She and a girlfriend thought building gingerbread houses together would be fun. As the program grew to 50 participants, the gingerbread tradition became overwhelming — they were already providing dinner every Monday night — but Beyea discovered something important: She genuinely enjoyed the creative process.
“We created themed houses, like the courthouse and some homes on Mount Vernon, and the girls always looked forward to working together on the entries,” Beyea says.
When the program eventually broke into smaller groups, Beyea carried the tradition forward with her six grandchildren, now ranging in age from 6 to 16. Her oldest grandson has chosen the theme every year since he was 3, from the Grinch to “Where’s Waldo?” to this year’s “Christmas Campsite.”
“The kids especially love working with fondant — it’s like playing with Play-Doh for them — so they’re always eager to help shape little characters and props,” Beyea says. “Of course, I had a bit of a challenge with my 6-year-old granddaughter, who discovered that this ‘Play-Doh’ tastes good. There was a stretch when she would sneak bites, and every now and then a fondant figure would mysteriously disappear because she’d eaten it.”
For Beyea, a 40-year veteran of dentistry seeking variety from professional monotony, the gingerbread village offers something her mother always valued: the spice of life. She’s adamant that when perfectionist friends suggest improvements — “That doesn’t look like an ATV; you should fix it” — she stands by her grandchildren’s work.
“If my grandson made it, it stays as it is,” Beyea says. “Ultimately, it’s not about winning. It’s about making sure everyone feels involved and proud of their contributions.”
Classroom Confections
At Acorn Montessori Charter School, that philosophy of inclusive participation extends to an institutional level. Principal Kendal Healey explains that when the school opened, founder Cynthia Johnson knew she wanted Acorn to play a meaningful role in the community through creative, joyful engagement.
“The gingerbread village provided the perfect opportunity,” Healey says. “Watching our students’ faces light up when their creations are displayed is the moment we look forward to every year — and it’s what keeps us coming back.”
The school’s process is deliberately student-led. Kids choose themes, sketch designs and solve problems — especially when frosting proves more adhesive than decorative. Each class contributes pieces, teachers help coordinate the assembly, and music fills the air alongside the scent of sweets and plenty of laughter.
“Every year, there’s at least one moment when it looks like the whole structure is about to collapse — but almost magically, someone finds a solution using pretzels, toothpicks, or sheer determination,” Healey says. “One year, a candy roof caved in halfway through, so the students turned it into a ‘snow accident’ scene. They’re wonderful at transforming disasters into creative opportunities.”
The collaborative process brings out unexpected leadership. Older students mentor younger ones, and children who might not shine in academics or athletics discover they’re experts in candy architecture. Teachers watch students step into new roles, encouraging one another through challenges and celebrating collective achievement.
“If the frosting holds and the kids walk away feeling proud, that’s a win in our book,” Healey says.
Candy for a Cause
Behind the architectural artistry and friendly competition lies a purpose that transforms sugar and frosting into something more substantial: food for children who need it.
Proceeds benefit the Prescott Area Hungry Kids Project, a community-driven initiative ensuring students have enough to eat when school meals aren’t available. A donation box at the display typically collects several thousand dollars annually, money that stays local and makes an immediate difference.
Kendal Healey emphasizes how the charitable component transforms the gingerbread village from entertainment into education, giving students a hands-on lesson in making a difference.
“This project gives students a hands-on way to support children in our own community,” Healey says. “They learn that something fun and creative can also make a real difference — a powerful lesson, especially during the holiday season.”
That sentiment resonates across all participant categories.
“I always say the children are the true winners of this event,” Cheatham says. “We participate to help support them, and I hope our efforts inspire even more people to get involved in this special tradition.”
Lisa Fredrickson frames the charitable aspect as reciprocal rather than one-directional — not just giving to others, but receiving something profound in return.
“Any time we have the opportunity to use our talents to support a charity, it truly feels like a gift to us,” Fredrickson says.
Just Desserts
For those inspired to start their own gingerbread traditions, the village veterans offer consistent advice: Start early, be patient, use plenty of frosting, and embrace imperfection. Fredrickson puts it most succinctly.
“Don’t take yourself too seriously — just enjoy the wonderfully messy process,” Fredrickson says. “Once your creation is complete and submitted, its role is simply to sit quietly and bring joy and smiles to everyone who passes by.”
Doran has heard countless stories over her 19 years as mayor — tales of creative breakthroughs, family bonding, competitive triumphs, and occasional disasters. She’s watched the village change with cultural trends while maintaining its essential character. Through all those years and all those gingerbread houses, one truth has remained constant.
“Whether someone participates or just comes up to walk around and see it, our gingerbread village has become an annual tradition for so many people,” Doran says. “And everything about Christmas is tradition, right?”
In Prescott, that tradition tastes like gingerbread and looks like community — built one candy-covered house at a time, held together not just by royal icing but by something far more enduring: the connections forged when people create something beautiful together.
33rd Annual Prescott Resort Gingerbread Village
Through Jan. 1 // Prescott Resort and Conference Center // 1500 Highway 69, Prescott // Free // prescottresort.com