When A Lethal Outbreak Seized An Alaskan Town, Locals Hatched A Plan For A Wild Rescue Mission

As the number of kids falling ill mounted, so did the sense of hopelessness among Nome’s residents. But what could save a small town, considered remote in the best of circumstances, when blizzards besieged it as they did? Desperate times called for desperate measures — and there were few as far-fetched as the plan swirling through Nome, along with the icy winds.

So how did it all play out? Well, the outcome is still memorialized today, as you’ll know if you’ve seen the hero’s statue in New York’s famous Central Park. History remembers the events and its pivotal players, then. Or does it? That’s the funny thing about memory. It isn’t always accurate — and the real hero almost faded into obscurity until recent years.

The statue is popular with children, perhaps because it depicts a dog. And if you’ve paid attention to it, you may know its likeness is that of the heroic hound Balto. But somewhere along the way, he got confused with another husky — a sled dog named Togo. So despite Togo having played a pivotal role in saving many lives, his own name was nearly forgotten over time.

And Togo the uncredited champion is finally getting the recognition that he deserves, thanks in part to Hollywood. Filmmakers released a new movie in 2019 starring Willem Dafoe that righted some wrongs and revealed the epic plan that Togo and his team enacted to save the Nome children’s lives. And it wasn’t just a race against time, either. Virtually everything was stacked against the rescue’s success.

Nome was founded in 1901 as a frontier town and became known for its trade in fur and gold. But its remote location proved to be disastrous in 1925 when the children fell ill with a mysterious sickness. Though it was initially suspected to be tonsillitis, the outbreak turned out to be something much more serious. The patients actually had a contagious and deadly bacterial infection called diphtheria.

The whole town — in excess of 10,000 people — were at risk. But while adults weren’t immune, diphtheria was especially dangerous for children. And though there was a serum available, Nome’s isolation made it impossible to have the cure delivered directly. You see, Nome is nearer to Siberia in Russia than it is to Alaska’s largest city — and transportation was limited at the time. There were only three options open to the town’s inhabitants.

The first was by air — but an aircraft couldn’t bring in the serum since Nome was expecting a blizzard and the weather would be too perilous. The railway didn’t go all the way to Nome, either. In fact, the closest stop was Nenana, close to 700 miles away. That left dog sled as the third and only viable option. But even then, the courier would have to rendezvous with the train at Nenana.

We don’t have to tell you the hazards involved in traveling long distances in a blizzard. In addition to the risks associated with a time-sensitive delivery, sledding in a raging snowstorm posed very real peril to the sled dogs and the musher alike. They could get lost in the whiteout, run out of supplies, succumb to the temperatures, or experience a fatal fall.

Have you ever heard the expression on thin ice? Well, this was both figurative and literal for the musher. A sea inlet called the Norton Sound dominated one section of the journey. In these extreme temperatures its surface had frozen over, yet whether it could take the weight of a sled dog team was questionable. So the journey could well have ended with the team plunging into frozen waters.

So what team would brave such a dangerous quest? That’s where Togo comes in, though of course he wasn’t the only one involved. There were several dog sled teams on the run as part of a relay set-up, with the longest and hardest route being led by a man called Leonhard Seppala. If the name sounds familiar, it’s because he was renowned as the best musher in Alaska.

Born in Norway, Seppala made a name for himself in Alaska by breeding some of the region’s best sled dogs in his kennels. But there was no indication that a young pup named Togo would be among them. It was quite the opposite, in fact. Togo was born a runt, small for his age and beset with a nasty throat condition.

And what use to a musher is a dog that can’t pull a sled? So Seppala gave the pup to his neighbor, but the rehoming didn’t last. Apparently, Togo was tougher than he looked — definitely strong enough to smash through a glass window and head back to his first home with Seppala. It wasn’t the only stubborn streak running through Togo, either.

Togo hated being locked up and made every effort to escape confinement. He even attempted a 7-foot scramble over a fence, which wasn’t successful and resulted in him getting stuck. According to the 2005 book The Cruelest Miles — an account of the race against the Nome epidemic — Togo was described as being “difficult and mischievous.”

Togo even disrupted Seppala’s dogs when they were on the harness to the extent that the musher gave up and harnessed Togo, too. And this turned out to be the right choice. Togo “astounded” Seppala by surpassing the rest of the pack and charging to the front. That was just the first of many ways in which Togo surprised his musher.

At eight months old, Togo ran 75 miles on his first day in the harness, which was described as a “feat unheard of for an inexperienced puppy.” It turned out that the initially unassuming Togo was in truth an “infant prodigy,” and Seppala finally realized what Togo had needed. He wanted "to be a member of the team.”

Apparently, Togo was a “natural-born leader” and he quickly became the lead sled dog, which meant that all the other team members followed his example. He, in turn, had become very close to his owner Seppala, participating in the majority of the musher’s sled runs. They were rarely apart, so to say that Togo and Seppala developed a firm bond is an understatement.

Even though Togo was born with health problems, he was from solid stock. His father Suggen was the top dog in Seppala’s victory in the All Alaska Sweepstakes race in 1914. And like father, like son — Togo’s reputation as a prize pooch spread far and wide. So when the diphtheria outbreak took root, where else would Nome turn to but to Seppala and his dogged sled team?

It’s true that Seppala was 47 and Togo 12 at that point in time, which is considered old for both man and dog in the world of mushing. But their wealth of experience, skill, and pure tenacity made them the favorite choice for such a vital journey. What isn’t mentioned in the Disney movie Togo is that Seppala also had an eight-year-old daughter called Sigrid, who was at risk of diphtheria — so he was personally invested as well.

If you’ve seen Togo, you’ll know some of the journey’s details. Seppala and Togo’s team set out eastward in conditions that dropped to -30° F. The sled veterans proved age hadn’t numbed their impressive skills, either. Just as Togo had run a jaw-dropping distance on his first day in the harness, his team sprinted in excess of 170 miles during the first three days of their rescue mission.

But the weather worsened as Seppala’s sled team ran. Perhaps the most perilous part of the trip was the coast of the frozen Norton Sound. Alaskans called this often blizzard-strewn stretch “the ice factory,” such was the danger involved in crossing it. Seppala also chose to take a shortcut straight across the precariously frozen ocean inlet, shaving a crucial 42 miles off the journey, though at great personal risk.

There were further complications unrelated to the conditions, as well. You see, Nome added more sled teams to the relay late on, and since they couldn’t contact Seppala to inform him, he was unaware of this development. If it hadn’t been for pure chance — and the help of the dogs, of course — Seppala would’ve missed his fellow musher Henry Ivanoff, who handed the serum delivery to him earlier than expected.

This timely intervention turned Seppala’s estimated six-day, 630-mile journey into a 261-mile trip instead. Picking up the serum was only half the battle, though — and the return route also involved safeguarding the diphtheria serum. In the Togo movie, Seppala almost loses everything when he plunges through the Norton Sound’s icy waters. But did that really happen, or was this a classic case of Hollywood applying some artistic license?

Well, yes and no. This scene was based on real-life events according to the book The Cruelest Miles, and if anything the situation was even more serious. It didn’t occur during the run for the diphtheria serum, however, but on an earlier journey. While Seppala’s sled was on an ice floe, its tow rope snapped, separating Togo from the rest of the team.

Togo proved himself the hero once again by diving into the icy waters to retrieve the lost rope, before coiling it around his own body. Then he pulled the sled and the rest of the team to safety! Fortunately, that didn’t happen during the relay race for the diphtheria serum. Seppala’s team finished their journey 78 miles away from Nome when he handed the vital delivery to the sled team waiting for him in Golovin.

It was a small miracle that no mushers lost their lives during the serum race, though some lost fingers to frostbite. A musher called Gunnar Kaasen suffered frostbitten fingers when his sled overturned in the icy winds and he had to dig the serum package out of the snow with his unprotected hands. Sadly, multiple dog fatalities occurred due to exposure in the terrible conditions.

By now you’re probably wondering about Balto. How was he mixed up with Togo? Why was it Balto who was lauded as a hero and memorialized in statue form? Well, Balto was actually involved in the relay, and it isn’t to say that he didn’t perform heroically. But though Balto was one of Seppala’s dogs, the musher didn’t think that Balto was ready to lead. That’s why he selected Togo instead.

So Kaasen, who worked for Seppala, chose Balto instead. The dog performed admirably, too, especially during the serum run when Kaasen crossed the Topkok River. The team were lost on the treacherous ice but Balto’s nose defied the 50-mile-per-hour winds and led his sled to safety. The brave dog was indeed a hero, then, just not for the reasons usually attributed to him.

The confusion stems from the fact that Balto was the lead sled dog in the final 55 miles of the serum run. So even though Togo and Seppala ran the longest and most dangerous stretch, Kaasen and Balto arrived at Nome with the medicine and as a result were hailed as heroes. It would take only ten months for the Balto statue to go up in Central Park.

Balto even attended the statue’s unveiling, which was marked by a plaque. It reads, “Dedicated to the indomitable spirit of the sled dogs that relayed antitoxin 600 miles over rough ice, across treacherous waters, through Arctic blizzards from Nenana to the relief of stricken Nome in the winter of 1925. Endurance. Fidelity. Intelligence.” Kaasen rode the fame train with Balto, too, and they both became celebrities for their achievements.

Balto didn’t stay with his owners, though. His entire team was sold to a film producer who made Balto a star of the silent movies! He also became one of the first animal actors on TV and of course we know his cinematic legacy carried on long after. Disney even made an animation in 1995 that bore his name. It was simply called Balto, with two straight-to-video sequels following.

Now there are probably plenty of Disney fans who grew up familiar with the name “Balto,” who’ll be surprised to know he was only one of the many heroes involved in the serum race. Balto changed hands several times after his days in the movies but they weren’t all kind owners. Still, his last days were at least spent among his team, well cared for at the Cleveland Zoo.

While Togo didn’t get the recognition that many believe he deserved, his actions in the serum race still saved countless children and helped end the final significant diphtheria outbreak on the continent. He went on to have other adventures, too, though admittedly none as epic as that famous run. Naturally, wherever his best friend Seppala went, Togo was in the lead pulling his sled.

Take the team’s trip to New England, for example, when Seppala and his sled dogs participated in a friendly race against adventurer Arthur Walden there. Despite the opponents’ larger dogs, Seppala’s team were victorious — with Togo at the front of the pack. And Seppala continued to breed dogs with the help of another musher from New England called Elizabeth Ricker.

Seppala opened a kennel in Maine breeding Siberian huskies and traveled between the state and Alaska for business. Togo was with him until he was 16, when age got the better of the determined dog. Seppala made the hard decision to put him to sleep but his genetics still live on. Togo fathered puppies, whose descendants are no doubt still alive and well today.

As for Seppala, he retired just a few years later and handed the management of the kennels over to his friend Harry Wheeler. But he left quite a legacy behind because the Siberian Husky Club of America later stated that all Siberian huskies registered with them have ancestry in either Harry Wheeler’s kennels or the Seppala-Ricker kennels. Seppala spent the rest of his life in Alaska and the American Northwest.

Seppala lived a long life, too. He passed away at 89, leaving behind an unpublished memoir. And the book featured his thoughts on the serum race. He wrote, “Afterwards, I thought of the ice and the darkness and the terrible wind and the irony that men could build planes and ships. But when Nome needed life in little packages of serum, it took the dogs to bring it through.”

At the age of 81, he’d written in his diary, “While my trail has been rough at times, the end of the course seems pretty smooth, with downhill going and a warm roadhouse in sight. And when I come to the end of the rail, I feel that along with my many friends, Togo will be waiting, and I know that everything will be alright.”

There’s no doubt that Seppala loved his dogs and knew how important they were not only to him but also to everyone in Nome. And with that in mind, he’s still honored today at the annual Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race. The event takes place along many of the Alaskan trails that the relay teams followed during the serum run, and there’s a prestigious award for special participants.

The musher believed to have treated their dogs the best is honored with a trophy bearing the great man’s name as proof of their dedication: the Leonhard Seppala Humanitarian Award. Over the years, Togo and Seppala’s fame has grown and grown, and today many sled dog aficionados — and many more beyond them — regard the pair as true heroes. And that’s what they undoubtedly were.