Balto the Siberian Husky is remembered for leading a team of sled dogs to deliver medicine
that saved the town of Nome, Alaska from a deadly epidemic.
He became a national hero, and his photo was on the front page of every newspaper in the
country.
A statue was erected in his honor in Central Park in 1925, and it is still one of the most
beloved tourist attractions today.
Many of you may have grown up watching the 1995 animated film by Universal Pictures,
and that may be the extent of what you know about Balto.
But the true story is far more dramatic than what you ever learned from cartoons and children’s
books.
On today’s Biographics, we bring you the story of Balto, the canine hero.
Life in Nome, Alaska Our story begins in the remote town of Nome,
Alaska.
In the 1890’s, the Nome Gold Rush brought prospectors to this small town in hopes of
making it rich.
There were no paved roads, so it was incredibly difficult for people to get around, especially
in the winter time.
Many of the people who moved to Nome had to adjust to life in Alaska, and they became
a very tight knit community.
These people had a lot of respect for one another, because they were all managing to
survive in the American wilderness.
If anyone was struggling, neighbors helped one another without hesitation, and it fostered
a really close community.
A Norwegian man named Leonhard Seppala owned a dog kennel in Nome.
Seppala is credited for being the first man to introduce Russia’s working dog breed
from Siberia to the United States, and they later got the name “Siberian Husky”.
These dogs became so popular in Alaska, that he decided to breed them for a living.
He was only interested in breeding dogs that were light and fast.
He became one of the first men to participate in competitive dog sled racing in the United
States.
One of the many puppies that were born in Seppala’s kennel was named Balto.
He was born with brown eyes and black fur with white “socks” on his two front legs.
Balto was apparently too large, so he was considered a “scrub dog”.
Seppola had him neutered right away, because he was deemed to be too inferior to pass on
his DNA.
Balto was born between the years 1919 and 1923, but no one can be sure.
Seppala was breeding so many dogs, he didn’t really keep track of every single puppy that
he declared a “reject”.
For all of the other dogs that did not suit his needs, Seppala would rent them out to
members of the community to use for pulling their dog sleds.
In the winter, dog sleds became the only option for traveling out of town to trade gold for
supplies.
Since so many men traveled to Nome looking for jobs in the mining industry, Seppala was
able to make a fortune renting and selling his dogs.
Seppala’s favorite husky was called Togo.
He was considered to be a perfect Husky specimen who was incredibly light and muscular.
As the story goes, Togo was so fast, he could race a train and win.
So Seppola put all his time and energy into training his favorite dog.
A man named Gunnar Kaasen had moved from Norway to Nome, Alaska to take part in the gold rush.
He paid to rent Seppala’s dogs in order to transport supplies to men working in the
gold mines.
There is no record as to why Kaasen chose Balto to be his lead dog, but most people
believe that it was because he felt some kind of connection from the start.
Most mushers choose a dog to lead that they know they can trust.
He saw something special in Balto, and the decision to take him home would one day save
his life.
The Epidemic Nome was having one of the coldest winters
on record.
Temperatures were reaching -50 Degrees Fahrenheit, which is -45 degrees celsius.
Winds were 50 miles or 80 kilometers per hour.
There were several terrible blizzards that made travel conditions impossible, and most
people had no choice but to isolate themselves in their homes by the fireplace.
In December of 1924, a record number of children were going to the only doctor in town, Curtis
Welch.
At first, Dr. Welch thought that these children simply had a sore throat, and their parents
tried to nurse them back to health over the holidays.
A few weeks later, in January of 1925, two children died.
It was at this point that Dr. Welch realized that this was actually a highly contagious
disease called diphtheria, and it had already infected most of the children in town.
The native Intuit children were affected the worst, because diphtheria was a “white man’s
disease”.
This illness was nicknamed “the strangling angel”, because the inside of the throat
begins to turn to leather, and people can no longer breathe or swallow.
Children were far more susceptible to catching diphtheria that adults, so parents were watching
helplessly as their sons and daughters were slowly choking to death.
Dr. Welch announced that all of the children who were infected needed to be placed in quarantine,
in order to prevent an epidemic.
The cure for diphtheria existed, but Nome was not equipped to treat a massive outbreak.
They needed a medicine called an “antitoxin serum”.
Since Dr. Welch and his four nurses were the only medical professionals in town, they were
working around the clock to treat these children.
The total population of Nome was just 10,000 people.
And even after placing the infected under quarantine, it was already too late.
More people were getting sick every day.
Everyone was afraid that if the outbreak was not contained, all of the children may die,
and it may spread to the adults, too.
On January 22nd, 1925, Dr. Welch sent out dozens of telegrams to doctors around Alaska,
and even sent a message to Washington DC, hoping for their help to get enough antitoxin.
They were eager to help, but the only issue was delivery.
The winds were far too strong for a small airplane to travel through that weather, and
there was too much ice for a ship to reach their harbor.
The nearest city where the medicine could be delivered was Anchorage.
But the train stopped in a town called Nenana, which was 674 miles away from Nome.
The only choice was to take sled dogs across the snowy Iditarod Trail, which was normally
a 15-20 day journey.
There were plenty of obstacles that slowed down the journey, like mountains, steep crevasses,
and the frozen Yukon river.
Alaska’s Territorial Governor, Scott Bone, approved the plan for the best mushers to
participate in a relay to guide their teams of sled dogs.
The plan was for 20 men and 150 dogs to wait at checkpoints, where they woulds pass off
the anti-toxin to the next team, so they were able to transport the medicine quickly and
efficiently.
The first man to pick up the antitoxin at the train station in Nenana was named “Wild
Bill” Shannon.
He traveled for 24 hours straight in -60 degree weather to get to the first checkpoint.
Three out of his nine dogs collapsed and died, because their lungs were frostbitten.
Another one of the mushers, Bill McCarty, came prepared with little moccasins for his
dog’s feet, so that they wouldn’t have to walk on the ice with their bare paws.
Leonhard Seppala volunteered to take the most dangerous part of the journey, since he had
the most experience.
But he was so concerned with going fast, and he was so focused on ordering Togo to go faster,
like he would during a race.
He saw a man named Henry Ivanoff stopped on the trail, because he was struggling with
disobedient dogs.
Seppala chose to ignore him, and sped past instead of offering help.
Ivanoff had to run after Seppala, shouting, "The serum!
The serum!
I have it here!"
Thankfully, Seppala heard him, and was able to turn his sled around to pick up the medicine,
but his need for speed very nearly blew the entire mission.
Since Dr. Welch had sent telegrams all over the country a few days earlier, stories of
the epidemic were being printed in newspapers in the lower 48 states.
This was such a gripping and tragic story that sounded like something out of a novel.
Unbeknownst to the 20 men, people all over the United States began to hope and pray that
they would make it.
Just days before, hardly anyone had heard of Nome, Alaska.
But once they knew that so many lives were at stake, everyone was rooting for them.
Balto’s Journey Gunnar Kaasen had taken the Iditarod Trail
together with Balto several times on their supply runs, so he volunteered to be one of
the 20 men that helped retrieve the medicine.
Unlike Leonhard Seppala and the other men, Kaasen did not compete in dog racing.
Balto was his pet when they weren’t working together.
Kaasen was very quiet and shy around other people, so Balto was the best friend he knew
he could always rely on.
Kaasan was considered to be a novice compared to the rest of the crew.
So, he was given one of the easiest legs of the trail.
Balto and Kaasen truly did lead a team of underdogs in more ways than one.
But no one could predict what happened next.
While Gunnar Kaasen was on his leg of the journey, a terrible storm began.
Each one of the checkpoint stations received a message that the serum run was temporarily
canceled, because it was too dangerous.
But Kasaan was already in the wilderness with all of the anti-toxin when the blizzard hit.
He obviously had no way of getting the memo.
And there was nowhere for him to take shelter until the storm blew over.
The blizzard caused a white-out.
Kaasen could not even see his hand in front of his face, let alone find his sense of direction.
He stopped moving for two hours, cuddling next to Balto and the rest of his sled dogs,
hoping that the storm would pass soon.
But he could not stop thinking about the children in the hospital.
With every passing minute, another child could die without the medicine.
And if he waited much longer, it was not likely that they could survive the night.
He decided that his only option was to move forward, despite not being able to see anything.
Gunnar Kaasen had to put all of his faith in Balto.
Dogs have a far better sense of direction than humans, and he had gone through the trail
many times before.
Balto was leading the way using his senses to guide the rest of the team back to where
they needed to go.
At one point, they were hit by a wind tunnel that was so strong, it knocked over the sled.
The medicine went flying into a large snowbank.
Kaasen could not find the medicine for a very long time.
He got down on his hands and knees digging through the snow before he found all of the
anti-toxin.
Balto and the team finally reached a town called Port Safety, which was the next checkpoint
in the relay.
However, he arrived in the middle of the night, and since the next musher had been told that
the relay was canceled, he and the dogs had fallen asleep.
With just 12 miles left to go, Kaasen decided to push through the last leg of the journey
himself.
When they arrived back in Nome, it was 5:30 in the morning, and he went straight to Dr.
Welch.
Once the vaccine thawed, he was able to administer it to the infected children, and they all
made a full recovery.
Hero Status Soon after arriving back in Nome, journalists
from all over the United States began to contact Gunnar Kaasen and ask for an interview so
that they could hear the story of his near-death experience bringing the anti-toxin to the
sick children.
He was always humble, and downplayed his involvement in securing the medicine.
He said, “To the other drivers and dogs, the most credit is due.
They had the harder mush, more difficulties.
For them, I know I can say, as for myself, we were glad to serve.”
Americans all over the country wanted to meet Balto, and children loved listening to the
story of this real-life dog hero.
Balto was invited to The Biltmore Hotel in Los Angeles.
Gunnar Kaasen agreed to the interview, and he was shocked to see movie stars showing
up to have their picture taken with Balto.
Normally, a national hero is welcomed to Los Angeles with keys to the city, but Balto was
given the bones to the city, instead.
Paramount Pictures hired Balto and Gunnar Kaasen to star in a dramatized documentary
called Balto’s Race to Nome.
It became a blockbuster hit in 1925.
They made copies of the films, but there was a studio fire in the 1930’s that destroyed
them all, so sadly, the movie no longer exists.
They traveled by train across the whole country, and in December of 1925, they arrived in New
York City.
Balto was put on stage on Broadway for a week in a Vaudeville show.
He also posed for a sculptor who created a brass statue of in Central Park.
There was a ceremony that unveiled the Balto statue, which included a plaque that said:
“Dedicated to the indomitable spirit of the sled dogs that relayed anti-toxin six
hundred miles over rough ice, across treacherous waters, through arctic blizzards.
From Nenana to the relief of the stricken Nome in the winter of 1925.
Endurance.
Fidelity.
Intelligence.”
Even though the statue was meant to commemorate all of the 150 dogs, it was clear that Balto
was the only one in the limelight.
Leonhard Seppala was still Balto’s true owner, but Gunnar Kaasen was getting all of
the credit.
Seppala was incredibly jealous, because he had dedicated the majority of his life to
breeding and racing dogs.
He also took the most risk during the journey by volunteering for the most dangerous portion
of the trail.
By this logic, he thought that he would have gotten all of the glory, and it was truly
a low blow for the least skilled musher and dogs were the ones getting all of the attention.
Not only that, but he was also angry that Balto, who he considered sub-par dog, was
now representing the Siberian Husky breed.
He believed that he and Togo deserved to be on the front page, not these amateurs.
When he returned to Nome, Alaska after a year-long American tour, Gunnar Kaasen found that Seppola
wasn’t the only one who was upset.
The community was split between those who believed Togo deserved the recognition, and
those who supported Balto.
Some even accused Kaasen of skipping the last stop on purpose, because he would have known
that the sled to arrive in town with the medicine would have gotten the glory.
But many historians do not believe that Kaasen could possibly be motivated by fame.
He would have no way of knowing that whole country was waiting to hear the news about
their small town in the middle of Alaska.
He was too busy just trying to stay alive.
For Seppola, the statue of Balto in Central Park was the last straw.
He wanted to get rid of Balto, and decided that he needed to go on his own tour with
Togo, in an attempt to brand him as the “true” dog hero.
He and his manager planned a huge spectacle of traveling to New York City to ride his
team of dogs down Broadway, and ending up at Madison Square Garden.
But even on these tours, children were still asking about Balto.
No matter how hard he tried, people still loved the adorable black Husky with white
socks that lead his musher through a blizzard.
Since Leonhard Seppala was still Balto’s legal owner, he decided to get rid of him
for good by putting Balto and the rest of the dog team up for auction.
Gunnar Kaasen was mortified, and he could not afford to bid on Balto to save him from
his fate.
When Balto was sold, Kaasen lost his best friend, and he was never the same again.
Free Balto!
Balto and the rest of the dog sled team was sold to a man named Sam Houston, who put them
on display at his Dime Museum in Los Angeles.
These were typically filled with oddities and freak shows.
People paid a dime for a ticket just to around and stare at the live attractions.
The dogs were chained to the wall all day, every day.
They were not allowed to run or play, and Houston hardly fed them, and they became sick
with mange.
In 1927, a man named George Kimble from Cleveland, Ohio was visiting Los Angeles, and he bought
a ticket to the Sam Houston’s Dime Museum.
This is where he found Balto.
Kimble had read all of the stories in the newspapers, so he was horrified to see these
heroic dogs being mistreated.
He asked Sam Houston what it would take to buy Balto, and he was told that it would cost
$2,000.
After modern-day inflation, that’s more like $28,772.
George Kimble could not afford that himself, so when he returned to Cleveland, he began
a campaign to save Balto.
The story of the heroic dog’s mistreatment ran it in the local newspaper.
Citizens of Cleveland donated whatever they could afford.
Even young children brought their pennies to Kimble’s campaign, hoping to save their
hero.
Ten days later, they had raised enough money to buy Balto- with a little extra to save
his friends, too.
When the dogs arrived in Cleveland, they were finally allowed to pull a sled again as a
team.
A crowd of 15,000 people lined the street, cheering and and giving the dogs a standing
ovation.
And the city didn’t stop there.
Citizens of Cleveland put together the money to build the dogs a large enclosure at the
zoo with a grassy field for them to run and play.
The entire city considered them to be their pets.
They were given more love and attention than most dogs in the world.
Balto remained at the Cleveland Zoo for the next 6 years.
When he was between 11 and 14 years old, he became very sick, and could barely walk.
When children heard that he was missing from the grass enclosure, they would call the zoo
every day, asking for updates to see if Balto was feeling better.
But the veterinarians knew that it was more humane to put him to sleep.
When Balto died, the entire country mourned his death.
He was once again on the front page of every paper.
People loved him so much, they didn’t want to let him go.
So Balto’s body was turned into a taxidermy figure.
His remains were moved to the Cleveland Museum of Natural History.
Ever since then, children go on school trips to see Balto and hear the story of the race
to save Nome.
For all of his efforts to erase Balto from history, Seppala failed to insert himself
and Togo into the limelight to the extent that Balto had been.
Togo fathered dozens of puppies, and when he grew older, he had a very comfortable doggy
retirement living with a family friend in Poland Spring, Maine.
When he died, his body was also stuffed and mounted at the Peabody Museum of Natural History
at Yale University.
However, it was never preserved properly, and children were touching and petting Togo
so much that the taxidermy figure became damaged, and he eventually had to be removed from the
museum.
Even after the dogs had passed away, there were still plenty of people in the sledding
community who believe that Togo truly deserved the fame over Balto.
But what we do know for sure is that if it were not for Gunnar Kaasen’s complete trust
in this brave dog, the entire team would have frozen to death in that blizzard.
The vaccine for Nome would have been buried under piles of snow, and there is no telling
how many people would have died as a result.
But what we do know is that Balto the dog was a hero, and a very “good boy.”
Back in Alaska, Gunnar Kasaan lived a quiet life.
Years later, his niece, Janice Weiland, asked her uncle to tell her the story of what really
happened with Balto, since she had heard so many different versions of the story from
children at school.
He replied, “I will tell you this once, and only once.
If it wasn’t for Balto, I wouldn’t be alive today.”