The first dogs used for police work in the United States were introduced in New York City and Glen Ridge, New Jersey, during the first decade of the 20^th century.  Before this time, dogs were used occasionally for “crime control” in the South by plantation owners who sent the dogs after runaway slaves.  

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New York Murder

In 1907, the brutal murder of 15-year-old Amelia Staffeldt in Elmhurst, New York, inspired the New York police administration to consider using dogs for police work.  The man who murdered young Amanda was caught a few days later, and they learned that Henry Becker remained in Elmhurst for a day or so after the murder. If they had caught him then, they could have prevented his other crimes.

The police commissioner wanted to investigate whether a dog could have helped. He knew that a man on his force, Lt. George R. Wakefield, was also very interested in using dogs on the police force. Since the murderer remained in Elmhurst, the commissioner and Lt. Wakefield speculated that if they had a bloodhound, they could have caught Henry Becker sooner.

A kennel near Poughkeepsie, New York, specialized in raising and training bloodhounds. The commissioner sent Lt. Wakefield to investigate whether they should add a bloodhound to the force.

Wakefield returned from Poughkeepsie with depressing news. Based on what he learned about bloodhounds, he determined that the dogs would not be well suited to work in the city. The streets are layered with smells, and since criminals sometimes escaped by subway, it would be difficult for dogs to retain the scent. This would leave the bloodhound and policeman at a dead end.

The Ghent Dog Program

But the commissioner and Wakefield remained hopeful about using police dogs. A program in Ghent, Belgium, was receiving attention for the job they were doing training dogs to accompany constables for night patrol.

The commissioner funded Wakefield to go to Belgium to learn more.

The training program in Ghent started in 1902. The school created a four-month training program. The dogs were taught the tasks they would need: seek, attack, and then stop and hold. At that time, the dogs were not expected to bite their victims so they wore loose-fitting muzzles so they could still bark but not bite.

Since the dogs wore muzzles, they needed to learn another way to catch and bring down their victim. Most used a system that involved chasing down the person and wrapping their front paws around the fellow’s leg to bring him down. The dogs were then trained to stand on the person, barking to alert their dog handler.

Preferred Dogs

In Ghent, Belgian sheepdogs were the preferred dogs. They were known for their loyalty, courage, intelligence, and endurance. The breed at that time featured dogs that weighed about 50 pounds. They were barrel-chested and stood about knee-high to most men. They had short fur so upkeep was not an issue.

The Groenendael dog was a close second. These dogs matched the sheepdogs in temperament, but they had long silky black hair. This meant some grooming was necessary. (Poodles were not used as war dogs for the same reason. Their hair became matted when wet.)

Wakefield in Ghent

When Lt. Wakefield had the “okay” to bring dogs back to the U.S., he was disappointed to learn that there were no trained dogs available for purchase. The Paris police department was a big proponent of police dogs and had just purchased 400 of them.

Wakefield’s next step was locating dogs that could be trained. He finally made a deal for five six-month-old dogs. Four of the dogs were Belgian sheepdogs. One of them was a Groenendael.

He paid $10 for each pup, and another $10 for transatlantic travel for each dog. There was also an import tax of $2. This brought the grand total for each untrained dog to $22.00.  (Trained dogs today cost between $12,000-$50,000. The dogs themselves are monitored carefully as both police departments and the military consider them valuable assets.)

To New York by Ship

George Wakefield used transatlantic travel via shipboard to work on training the dogs. They were still young. The dogs still needed to learn basic commands and have them reinforced.

Unfortunately, one of the dogs died before the end of the trip. There were no vaccines for distemper at that time, and many young dogs did not survive it.

Establishing a School in New York

Upon landing in New York, Wakefield and his charges were sent to a dilapidated mansion in Fort Washington Park in the Washington Heights section of Manhattan. Since they were short one dog, Wakefield replaced it with a young Airedale named Jim.  The other dogs were Nogi, (the Groenendael), Max, Dona, and Lady.

Lt. Wakefield organized a 3-month training program to operate from Fort Washington Park. A patrolman known to be good with dogs moved into the mansion with his family to assist Wakefield. The dining room was set up with stalls where the dogs lived when they weren’t working or in supervised play.

The program, like the one in Ghent, featured positive reinforcement. Care and feeding of the animals was only done by men in uniform. That way the dogs learned that people in uniform were their friends and authority figures. People in civilian clothes were potentially suspect.

Training Commences

The initial plan for these dogs was for night patrolling. They were taught four commands: “Search!” “Attack!” “Heel,” and “Down.” Down was the command for the dog to back off and let the police officer take over.

When searching a house, the process was for the policeman to take the front of the house, sending the dog to search the yard, fields, and hedges.

An added benefit to the program was that police saw that the dogs were intimidating to the public. This alone helped reduce crime because people were nervous about what the dogs might do.

As training methods advanced, sound was one of the elements added. When the dogs were housed in kennels, audio could be piped in. By playing recorded sounds of thunderstorms, roaring car engines, and exploding bombs, it helped the dogs acclimate to what might happen on the street.

Muzzles

While today’s police dogs are often expected to attack with teeth, the first police dogs were muzzled. The muzzles were spacious enough that dogs could easily bark to sound an alarm. The muzzles also were equipped with snap catches. The dog handler could unmuzzle the dog quickly if more force (biting) was necessary.

Program Grew

By 1911, New York was using sixteen dogs for patrol in residential districts on Long Island. The dogs were assigned territories and could run on their own with their police handler nearby.  From 11 pm to 7 am, the dogs brought down civilians (potential thieves) in the area. The dog was to stand on the person, barking until their handler arrived. (There may have been outcry from residents who were simply coming home late, but to my knowledge no reporter of the day wrote that story.)

By 1929, New York was using 23 dogs. There were many specific anecdotes where they proved their worth. One of the first was with the “Pants Burglar.”
 

The Staten Island “Pants Burglar”

In the 1920s, Staten Island was plagued by a robber who acquired the nickname, “the Pants Burglar.”  The fellow climbed up porch trestles in his socks and snuck into upper floor windows. While the family slept, he moved quietly and quickly, leaving most possessions in place. He knew that if the family had cash, it was likely to be in the husband’s pant pockets.  In the dark, he located the trousers, often draped over a chair or a bench. He then stole the items in the pockets. If he felt rushed, he sometimes climbed back out the window carrying the trousers with him.

Because the Pants Burglar struck so often, the police department finally selected four of their finest dogs to put on the case.

Within a few days, the dogs found their man.

Other Success Stories

One of the arguments against using dogs concerned the fact that more people were traveling by car. How could a dog help catch then?

That question was answered when policemen stopped two men in a car. The men got out as instructed, but within a few moments, one of the men turned to run.  Fortunately, the policemen had a dog with them. Their dog immediately set off to chase the man and bring him down.

In another instance, a dog saved a child’s life. Bum was trained to work around the scene of fires. When a little girl bumped into a street vendor’s charcoal cooker, she fell against it, and her clothing caught fire. Bum was nearby and immediately approached and ripped off the burning fabric. She survived.

Guarding Warehouses and Department Stores

During the late 1940s and ‘50s, department stores began posting dogs for guard duty. Dobermans were popular for this work and were used in both stores and warehouses.

A security officer still needed to be on premises, but the dogs were trained to walk a beat alone. At Marshall Field, the store’s warehouse had special buttons along the route. The dogs were taught to press each button as they passed it.  The security guard knew if the dog did not signal every 15 minutes or so, then the scene needed to be investigated.

Detection Dogs

Not all police dogs are used for apprehending the “bad guys.”  Many are used for detection. Dog handlers now know that all breeds of dogs have extraordinary ability to smell their environment and make sense of it. As police departments worked with dogs, they found they could choose the breeds that are easiest to work with as they can all be trained to sniff out drugs and bomb-making materials.

In the 1970s, the U.S. experienced a rash of bombings around the country, so bomb-sniffing dogs were in high demand.  The Washington (D.C.) Bomb Squad provided a demonstration for reporters, showing that the dogs could clear a corridor lined with closed lockers (like in a school or a train station) in 2 minutes.

For a time, bomb makers tried adding pepper to disguise the odor of the bomb materials. Officers quickly realized that a sneezing dog is a sure sign of something that needed to be investigated.

Horror of Dogs in the South

In the late 1950s and ‘60s, the image of police dogs suffered greatly in the South. Birmingham public safety commissioner Theophilus “Bull” Connor was in his position for more than two decades. He was a segregationist who was fervently against any demonstration that protested his belief in white supremacy.

When the Freedom Riders and civil rights marchers came through Birmingham, Bull Connor stopped at nothing to halt the protesters, setting a poor example for the South. Photographs from the era show unarmed people (many children as well as adults) being brought down by attack dogs. The photos and videos from these days are horrifying.

One Last Story

A more heartening story of a police dog took place in Springfield, Massachusetts, in 1980. Rags was out on patrol with a policeman in a dark parking lot. Rags sensed danger from someone who was prowling in the area. He pushed the patrolman who accompanied him out of the way. When the gunman fired, Rags took the bullet himself.

Rags suffered a spinal injury, so a full recovery was not possible. But as he improved the veterinarian recommended him for a desk job where he could be in charge of milk bone procurement.

He became the department’s official mascot and was given a medal of honor. 

Dogs Today

Today there are approximately 50,000 active police K-9s in the United States. In police work, dogs are being used for everything from drug and bomb detection to helping locate missing people and uncover forensic evidence at a crime scene. (Dogs are also trained for many other purposes, ranging from medical needs such as sensing diabetes to aiding the blind. Scientists have also found numerous ways to use dogs to preserve the environment.)

When a police dog is ready for retirement, most dogs become pets, often with their handler’s family. Those who have been wounded present additional challenges for their owners. How can the family pay for ongoing medical care? The National Police Dog Foundation does what it can to raise funds so that these dogs can be with a family  they love and have the care they need.

Arthur Walden’s experience during the Yukon Gold Rush gave him a lifelong passion. He loved working with dog teams, and he soon saw that hauling freight to the miners by dog sled was more lucrative and interesting than hunting for gold. 

During this time, Walden developed definite ideas of what qualities made the best sledge dog for hauling materials. When he returned to his home in New Hampshire, Walden wanted to develop a dog that was both powerful enough to pull heavy loads and gentle enough to be approached by children.

In 1917, the first puppies were born, and they are now known as the Chinook breed. The AKC approved it in 2013. It is one of thew few breeds created in America.

Walden went on to make a name for himself and his Chinook sledge team by being chosen by Admiral Byrd as the best person (and dog team) to haul men and supplies when Byrd undertook his first land exploration of Antarctica in 1928.

About Arthur Walden

Arthur Treadwell Walden was born in 1871 in Indianapolis, Indiana. His father was an Episcopal clergyman, Reverand Treadwell Walden, and the family was often expected to relocate. When Arthur was of school-age, Reverand Walden was at a church in central Minnesota. Arthur attended the Chattuck Military School in Faribault, about 50 miles south of Minneapolis.

The next family assignment was to Boston, but Arthur quickly found he didn’t like the feel of a city. He was old enough to live on his own. The family had a small home in Tamworth, New Hampshire, and he went there to live.

Wanted More Excitement

As a young man, Walden liked the rural life but also wanted to travel. Some hardy adventurers were going to Alaska, and in early 1896, he decided that was a worthy trip. Six months later, gold was discovered in the Yukon, making the region a destination for would-be miners.

Walden briefly considered hunting for gold, but he needed a job that provided a weekly income. He took a position working for a freighter that carried supplies and mail down the Yukon River. While there, he also gained experience taking loads overland by sledge using dog teams.

After the gold rush slowed, Walden returned to New Hampshire, and in 1902, he married Katherine Sleeper, a young woman he met before he left for the Yukon. Her family was well-to-do, and she had health problems.  When a doctor recommended that living in the country would be better for her well-being, she bought the 1300-acre Wonalancet Farm just outside the village of Tamworth, New Hampshire.  

Arthur Walden was a perfect partner for her ownership of the property. He was happy to manage the farm, but the farm gave him the space and the time to set up a kennel for the dogs he wanted to raise.

Favorite Dog

In addition to managing the farm, Walden wanted to breed a dog like those he met in Alaska. One of them, Chinook, was his ideal. He was strong and fast with great endurance. He was also a gentle dog to be around.

With his return to New Hampshire, Arthur Walden began assessing what dogs would give him the right qualities. His first choice was a mastiff-type dog named Kim. Kim was a good-sized mixed breed that was powerful and sweet-tempered. Walden’s choice for the female was Ningo, a dog that was a direct descendant of Admiral Peary’s Greenland Huskies. These dogs were much like wolves with intelligence and an innate understanding of the wild.

In some accounts, writers note that Ningo descended from Polaris from Admiral Byrd’s breeding stock. The dogs may have shared blood lines, but Polaris came to New Hampshire as a puppy in 1914, so perhaps Ningo was part of one of his first litters of dogs. (Polaris was an amazing bundle of energy. To read his story, click here.)

The First Litter

With Ningo and Kim’s first litter in 1917, there were seven pups. Three of the dogs were larger than the others, so Walden kept a close eye on the bigger puppies, assuming they would be the best for future breeding.

Walden’s wife, Katherine, named them Rikki, Tikki and Tavi (after the characters in Rudyard Kipling’s The Jungle Book). “Rikki” was the pup that showed more of the qualities that Walden was looking for, so he renamed the dog Chinook and declared him the foundation dog of this new breed.

When Chinook was fully grown, he was said to be 100 pounds and an excellent lead dog. Walden bred him with various females, experimenting with Belgian Malinois, huskies, and German shepherds to see what brought the best results.

Walden Introduces the Breed

Each year Gorham, New Hampshire, held a winter carnival that attacted huge crowds. In 1921, Arthur Walden decided to introduce his new breed at the carnival. With affection and admiration, Walden referred to his dogs as “husky half-breeds.” He pointed out that the dogs raced well, were strong enough for hauling, and yet, gentle enough to be around people of all ages. 

Walden was eager to establish sled dog racing in New England. In 1922, he gained the support of a local paper company to sponsor the first Eastern International Dog Derby. As planned by Walden, the Derby was 123 miles. Only 4 teams entered the race that first year. Walden’s team easily won, and in 1924, he founded the New England Sled Dog Club, which took over sponsorship of the Derby.

Walden’s dogs did well for the first few years. Then in 1927, Leonhard Seppala, the dog team driver whose dogs included Balto and Togo, came to New Hampshire to visit. Though Seppala was not familiar with the route and encountered difficulties on the trail, his dogs still won handily over the Chinook teams. (That would have been one of Seppala’s last races with these dogs. When he returned to Alaska, he determined that the group of dogs was too old to return to the trail.)

Making a Name for Himself

In the meantime, Walden continued to promote dog sledding, both as a sport and also as a useful tool for logging businesses. He reminded woodsmen that dogs with sleds offered the perfect conveyance for hauling wood out of dense wooded areas. The dogs could also bring all types of supplies for the loggers.

Mount Washington, the tallest peak in the Eastern part of the United States (6,288 feet) is located in the White Mountains of Vermont. It had never been climbed by anyone using a dog team. Arthur Walden knew he could make a name for his new breed by attempting the ascent. In the winter of 1926, Walden attempted the climb but was turned back by a blizzard. But next time—with Chinook in the lead—they traveled eight miles to the summit in eight hours time.

In the process, he made a name for himself and for the new Chinook breed.

Admiral Byrd’s Planned Exploration of the Antarctic

Later that year, word filtered through “dog circles” that Admiral Richard Byrd was planning a major Antarctic land exploration. This would require at least two ships, three airplanes and several teams of sled dogs for hauling goods to a camp, and later for exploring the area.

Though he was almost 56 years old when Admiral Richard Byrd began planning for his first land exploration of the Antarctic, Walden put in his name to be the chief dog handler for the expedition.

After interviewing others, Admiral Byrd clearly saw wisdom in adding Arthur Walden to his team. Arthur Walden became lead driver and dog trainer for Byrd’s 1928-9 Antarctic Expedition. He was in charge of recruiting other drivers and their teams and managing training and all supplies. Among men already committed to the expedition were three Harvard students who were so eager to accompany Admiral Byrd that they volunteered for whatever jobs would be helpful. Byrd put Norman Vaughan, Freddie Crockett, and Eddie Goodale under Arthur Walden to help with the dogs.

In late 1927 and early 1928, Walden put out the word on what types and dogs he was looking for. Walden found that seven-dog teams were best with his Chinooks. He would need 8-10 dog teams for the trip. Some of the dogs needed to come in well-trained by their drivers, but supplemental dogs could be added from the Eskimos. Because the Eskimos guided the dogs by running alongside the team themselves, the dogs were not lead dog material, but they were strong.  They were perfect when added to the back of the pack.

The selected group assembled at Wonalancet Farm for training. They also reviewed everything from survival gear to tents and supplies.

The Expedition

In September of 1928, Walden, his drivers, and 97 dogs (16 of them his own Chinooks)  boarded the ships Byrd booked for the trip to Antarctica. Once there, Walden’s job was hauling supplies from the water’s edge to the base camp, “Little America.”  It was late in the season, and Walden was well aware that they had very little time to haul everything to camp.

Walden and nine other drivers hauled 650 tons of gear from the ships to the base camp nine miles inland.

Darkness would descend sometime in March, and then there would be no daylight until September. The ships were said to be carrying 500 tons of supplies. Walden and his teams had to work fast and hard to get men, supplies, dogs, and teams settled.

Later Admiral Byrd wrote: “Walden’s team was the backbone of our transport.”

Personal Loss

At the time that Walden was hired for the Byrd assignment, his beloved dog Chinook was 12 years old. He was too old to be in the harness full time, but he was extraordinary at leading the team if the going got particularly rough.

One day Chinook had a run-in with another dog. Walden and some of the other men had to stop the dog fight (dogs fight for dominance.) That night, Chinook was bedded down near Walden. It was reported that he came and pawed Walden’s shoulder once or twice. Walden said he reassured the dog and thought the dog had gone back to sleep.

The next morning Walden got up to assemble the team and discovered that Chinook was gone. Walden searched as much as he could, but there was no sign of the beloved dog. Some on the expedition thought Chinook had some type of terrible accident; others felt Chinook knew he couldn’t go on as before and went off to die.

No matter what the explanation, the men on the trip said that it aged Walden considerably. 

Trip Concludes

The Antarctic expedition ended in 1930, and Walden returned to New Hampshire.

Admiral Byrd later wrote about how grateful he was for Walden and the dogs. “On January 17^th, Walden’s single team of thirteen dogs moves 3500 pounds of supplies from ship to base, a distance of 16 miles each trip, in two journeys. … Seeing him rush his heavy loads along the trail, outstripping the younger men, it was difficult to believe he was an old man. He was 58 years old but had the determination and strength of youth.”

In 1931, Arthur Walden received the Congressional Gold Medal, the highest honor available to a civilian, for his part in Admiral Richard Byrd’s Antarctic Expedition.

Return to New Hampshire

When the expedition concluded in 1930, the men returned to a difficult time in the United States. Most parts of the country were struggling through the Great Depression. And thought Katherine’s family had been well off, and Walden had prudently banked most of his earnings from his work in the Yukon, Wonalancet Farm was in poor shape financially.

Katherine’s health had deteriorated, so Walden’s partners took advantage of her, moving her out of main farmhouse—her home–and placing her in a cottage on the property. The farm and farmhouse were leased out. When Walden returned, he was denied the right to go into his barn to retrieve tools that were clearly his.

Walden was beside himself with grief. He opted to sell the remainder of the kennel to his partner so that he could start again.

Starting Over

Fortunately, Walden had taken protective measures to maintain the bloodline. In 1922-23, distemper almost wiped out the Chinooks. At that time, there was no cure for the disease and no vaccine. Many of Arthur Walden’s dogs came down with the illness and died from it.

This lesson taught Walden to protect himself. From that time forward, he began a new practice. Each time a litter was born from his dogs, he gave one or two pups Julie Lombard, a local woman who also bred dogs.

When he needed to start again, he and Lombard agreed to call the new kennel, Wonalancet-Hubbard Kennels.

New Arrangement

Julie Lombard and her business partner Ed Moody were happy to tend to most of the kennel work. Walden also took over the care of Kate, who was no longer able to care for herself.

Writing was Walden’s other pursuit. Because he was older and the outdoor work was more difficult, Walden began telling his story. He knew he had lived through fascinating experiences that others couldn’t even imagine. His first book, A Dog Puncher on the Yukon, met with success. He tells a harrowing tale of what it was like for the first adventurers to travel to Alaska and the Yukon. (The book is quite interesting. There is very little about dogs in it, but Walden provides an incredible picture of how difficult it was to travel through Alaska and the Yukon at that time.)

Arthur Walden Died Saving Wife

In 1947, a household fire broke out when Kate Walden was in the kitchen. Walden heard her screams and ran to save her. He carried Kate to safety and then began drawing buckets of water from a well to try to save the house.

When the fire was finally extinguished, the neighbors went in to look for Arthur Walden. Waden’s body was found on the floor of the kitchen. He died while trying to rescue what was theirs.

Breed Eventually Dwindled

Due to Julie Lombard and her partner, the Chinook breed continued to do well. Then in 1939, Perry Greene and his wife Honey took over the work of Julie Lombard and devoted the rest of their lives to the breed.

Other breeders, Nell and Marra Wollpert from Ohio, Kathy Adams (from Maine, Peter Abrahams came in from California to take dogs. By spreading out the breeding stock, they increased the odd of the Chinook breed continuing on.

But by the early 1980s, there were only 11 breedable dogs. When the breeders realized what happened, they worked together to trade dogs and improve the numbers.

State Dog of New Hampshire

In 2009, Jennifer Wells, a Chinook owner and a teacher at a middle school in Bedford, suggested a project to her class: New Hampshire had no state dog. Why not encourage the governor to name the Chinook? It was unusual to create a new breed, and the Chinook was a native to the state through and through.

A bill was eventually passed in the New Hampshire legislature stating that the Chinook would be the state dog. The students and their teacher were elated to have brought this about. 

Remembering Walden’s Chinooks

In South Bend, Indiana, the Tribune ran an article about Arthur Walden. In it, he was quoted as saying, “Say what you will, there is no more faithful friend in the world than dog. No matter what your physical or financial condition may be, you may depend on your dog to stand by. If you go hungry, he goes hungry with you. If the road be long and dark and the elements assail you, he is ever by your side. Be you up or be you down, he is unchangeable. He is not a fair-weather friend who vanishes when the storm clouds race upon you. He asks but little and unstintingly gives all that he has—yes, even his life.” (South Bend Tribune, September 18, 1927.)

But perhaps the best way to remember the Chinook dogs is by quoting from Time Magazine from January 15, 1945 regarding the dogs in the Antarctic.

“To All Noble Dogs whose lives were given [in] Little America … to further science and discovery.”

***Another dog on the Antarctic Expedition was Igloo, a terrier. His story remarkable.

Balto and Togo became famous lead sled dogs for their parts in the Alaskan “Race of Mercy” in 1925. This was the successful effort to deliver badly needed antitoxin serum to the people of Nome. The race involved a relay of sled dog teams traveling 674 miles in the dead of winter when an outbreak of diphtheria took hold in the small, isolated community.

Diphtheria is a highly contagious illness that often kills its victims. Like other doctors in remote areas, Nome’s doctor Curtis Welch always ordered back-up supplies of medicine to get through the winter months. However, he never received his order of the antitoxin against diphtheria. All he had left at the hospital was a small quantity of serum that was several years old.

Before air travel, Nome was essentially inaccessible during the winter months. The community prepared for this. The last ships made their deliveries in October. Anyone who wanted to leave the town did so at that time. The remaining people who stayed settled in to get through northern Alaska’s very bad winters. Blizzards sometimes raged for several days with winds blowing up to 70-80 miles per hour. Temperatures could hold at -50 degrees or lower. It was often unsafe to be out.

Illness in Nome

In late December 1924, word spread that Nome had an outbreak of diphtheria. State health officers conferred with Dr. Welch as to what could be done. The state officials located 300 units of the serum in Anchorage, but how to get it to Nome? Airplanes were still very primitive, and even the most experienced pilot would be daunted by flying during a Nome winter.

Most items requiring winter transport relied on sled dog teams. Musher Leonhard Seppala was the best sled dog driver in the territory, but the distance he would need to travel was very long.

The experts decided that the best plan would be to establish a relay of dog teams. Seppala would be assigned the longest and most difficult passage, but the relay system would provide the help he needed.

The serum was to travel from Anchorage inland to Nenana by railroad. From there, the first sled team would pick it up and begin the first leg of the 674-mile journey, a trip that normally  would require a month during the winter months.

In January, the trails often had so much snow that they were unnavigable. The route involved crossing waterways where the powerful sea could crack or dislodge pieces of ice. If this happened, a sled team could find themselves floating on an ice floe. Temperatures could easily be -50 degrees, and when the wind blew, the wind chill factor was cutting. If the driver needed to remove his face mask or gloves for any reason, he risked almost immediate freezing.

The Importance of the Lead Dog

People unfamiliar with the work of a sled dog team could not fully comprehend the importance of the lead dog. These dogs need both intelligence and fortitude for leading a pack because many times the decision about what to do had to be theirs. Depending on the number of dogs in the team, the leader might be running 20-40 feet in advance of his master and the sled. Whatever challenge appears often needs to be addressed instantly.

During winter weather, there are many dangers on the trail. The team may encounter a “wall” of snow as they travel, and the lead dog needs to decide whether to go through or around it. Low temperatures, blizzard conditions, and ice that can break into separate floes along waterways are all hazards. Men’s faces and fingers can freeze due to the low temperatures, and if a dog’s feet get wet from melting snow, a good dog leader knows to stop. His master must dry their feet or frostbite will immediately set in.

Because the trails were unpredictable, there were frequent “dog pile-ups” that meant the sled driver needed to go into the pack and untangle all the team members.

Driving through a blizzard almost always reduces vision for the musher. In those moments, the sled driver most likely cannot see his leader; he may not even be able to see his “wheel” dogs—the ones that are placed just before the sled. On a very bad day, the driver may not be able to see his own hands.

In an emergency like the serum run, each man simply has to place all hope on their lead dog and the team. It was often said among Alaskans, “a man is only as good as his team.”

Togo

Togo was 12 years old at the time of the serum run. He was Leonhard Seppala’s lead dog for many years. Seppala considered him the best of any dog he had ever had.

Togo was born to Suggen, one of Seppala’s other lead dogs that had seen Seppala through many difficult trips. But at birth, Togo was an undersized handful who did not even seem to have the makings of a sled dog. Seppala gave the puppy to a friend to be a pet.

But when Togo wasted no time escaping from the friend’s home and finding his way back to the kennel, Seppala gave him another chance. Too young to harness, Togo sometimes ran along with Seppala’s team, but the dog was often was a lot of bother.

When Togo was only 8 months, he spent one morning annoying the team by biting their heels and tails. Seppala finally put him in a harness and started him in the wheel position (closest to the sled). Seppala soon saw Togo’s drive and ability and began moving him up the chain. By the end of that day, Togo helped pull for 75 miles and was now right near the front of the pack. 

Soon he was Leonhard Seppala’s regular lead dog. Seppala and Togo were in their prime to win the All-Alaska Sweepstakes races in 1915, 1916, and 1917. But by the time of the serum run, Togo was getting older.

Despite the dog’s age, Seppala still put full faith in the dog and knew that Togo would be the dog to get the serum through the most difficult stretch of the trip.

Balto

Balto was also part of Seppala’s kennel. In his freight-hauling business, Seppala used several teams of dogs. Slow and steady was sometimes more important than running quickly.  

When Seppala picked his team for the serum run, he did not pick Balto. He left him behind for the slower work team. One of his employees, Gunnar Kaasen, would be in charge of any regular work that came in.

Planning the Serum Run

When the routes were assigned for the serum run, Leonhard Seppala was given the longest most difficult route. He would be responsible for the leg of the route involving Norton Sound. It would be up to Seppala (and to Togo) to decide whether or not the team could risk cutting across the Sound. If they had to go around, it would add a day to their schedule. 

Each driver was responsible for another difficult task–preventing the serum from freezing solid. At each way station, the driver carried the wrapped serum into the roadhouse to warm it up slightly before the next trip. But these roadhouses were simply huts with stoves. They were never very warm inside, but it was better than leaving the serum outside.

Preparations Begin

Seppala was to pick up the serum from a driver in Shaktoolik. As soon as the plans were set, he left. From there, Seppala would deliver it to a driver at Golovin, who was to carry it on the serum’s next-to-last leg.

In the meantime, the organizers were making some changes. They determined that the distances for teams should be shorter where possible. Extra teams were added. But Seppala and those drivers who had already left, didn’t know about the change in plans.

The other call, he and several others missed was one that told them to halt the race for a time. Blizzard conditions became so bad that the organizers decided that it was more important to stop for a time rather than risk losing the serum in a sled accident.

Seppala was almost at Shaktoolik expecting to pick up the serum. He passed a sled driver whose dogs were all tangled. Normally Seppala would have paused to help out, but this mission was too important. He and Togo kept going.

Suddenly, over the shrill whistling of the wind, he heard faint calls: “Seppala! Seppala! I have the serum!”

The other driver was among those added to reduce the distance for each team. Leonhard Seppala slowed Togo and got him to turn the team—a time-consuming task. They went back and retrieved the serum.

Blizzard Worsens

In the meantime, the weather was becoming worse. Organizers phoned the roadhouses where drivers were expected to stop. The message left for each team was to halt until the weather cleared.

But this was another message Seppala never received. He and Togo kept right on going.

When he arrived at Norton Sound, the team had to divert somewhat from the planned route. But Togo knew they could return to cross over the frozen bay. This saved at least a day’s time.

When they reached Golovin, Seppala delivered the serum to Charlie Olson. Olson originally was scheduled to take it on to Nome.

Final Leg of the Journey

What Seppala didn’t know was that in making the scheduling changes, his own dogs had been added. That team would be driven by Gunnar Kaasen, would be the team meeting Olson for the next leg of the trip.

From there, fate continued to intervene.

The blizzard became much worse. Though the organizers tried to notify the drivers to stop for a day or two to wait out the weather, most of the drivers never got the word. Kaasen was among them.

Kaasen was to have passed the serum off at the roadhouse at Bluff, but the weather was so bad that Balto and Kaasen missed the turn-off to the slated rest stop.  

Though Balto had not been the lead dog when Kaasen started out, he was now at the the head of the team.  In the poor visibility, Balto may have missed a turn, but he well knew how to return to Nome.

When the team pulled into Nome, Gunnar Kaasen could hardly have gone much farther. He was suffering from the severe cold and could barely walk. Kaasen climbed off the back slide runners and haltingly made his way forward to Balto. He collapsed with his arms encircling the dog.

Arrival in Nome

Dr. Welch and the citizens of Nome were overjoyed when the team arrived. They had not expected that anyone could get through until the weather broke.

But there had been no way to present the serum from freezing through during these last challenging days. Welch knew it had to be thawed slowly, so he took it to a very cool room in the hospital where the temperature was only about 46 degrees.  There, the serum began a slow thaw. To his great relief, no beakers broke as the serum warmed. About 18 hours after the arrival of the serum, Dr. Welch was able to use the treatment on the sickest of patients.

Good News Spread

Whether it was newspaper reporters or the townspeople writing to friends, the credit given to Balto for delivering the serum grew. When the weather improved, film crews arrived to film Kaasen with the dog.  The story took on a life of its own. The newspaper headlines were filled with stories of Balto’s achievement.

Later on, Balto would be the subject of numerous storybooks and films. Eventually, he had a statue in New York City’s Central Park.

Lesser Dog?

Leonhard Seppala did not openly complain, but he knew that Togo had traveled twice the distance of the other dogs across a far more treacherous part of the journey. Togo saved almost a day on the relay run by bravely crossing the frozen bay where almost anything could have happened. Seppala felt strongly that the true hero had been overlooked.

Seppala was also bothered by the fact that he did not consider Balto lead dog material. The thought a “lesser dog” getting so much attention upset him.

But Seppala and Kaasen must never have discussed the serum run. Seppala might have felt better if they had.  

Albert Payson Terhune Gets the Story

Many months after the serum run, Gunnar Kaasen was asked to take Balto to New Jersey where the sculptor was to create the statue to Balto.  While Balto was there, naturalist and writer Albert Payson Terhune asked to stop in. Terhune knew sled dogs and wanted to assess Balto’s physique and compare it what what he knew. While there, Terhune talked to Gunnar Kaasen who explained exactly how it happened that Balto led the pack. 

When Kaasen was told he would run an added team, he did just what Seppala would have wanted. He selected Fox for the lead. But the weather was brutal and Fox became too tired to lead. Kaasen put in another dog, who also became worn out. Finally, he had little choice but to use Balto, who soon proved very capable.

Tough Journey for All

Twenty separate sled teams participated in the serum run. With weather that could hardly have been worse, the relay teams accomplished in 6 days what would have been a month-long trek.and in all, 150 dogs were lost to overwork or exposure. The authors

While most dogs went back to their normal sledding duties, 150 of the dogs were lost to over-exertion or severe exposure to the cold.

But for Balto and Togo, things did not go very well.

What Happened to Balto?

Since the public began to hear about Balto and his arrival in Nome, he and Gunnar Kaasen were soon invited to the United States to tell their story.

At that time, with no national newspapers, spotty radio coverage, and no wire services or internet, the method for sharing a big story was the lecture circuit. Doctors, scientists and explorers—anyone with a story to tell—traveled and made speeches. And if you had sled dogs to take with you, the crowds were guaranteed.

Kaasen traveled with Balto and six other members of the team. Their bookings were handled by a show promoter, and the experience proceeded well enough.

But as Gunnar Kaasen’s tour was coming to an end, something went wrong. The dogs—actually Leonhard Seppala’s dogs—did not return to Alaska with Kaasen. Whether Seppala intentionally sold the team or whether the promoter swindled Kaasen (and thus Seppala) out of the dogs, we will not know. Whatever happened, Balto and the rest of the team stayed behind to continue show life with the promoter.

For working dogs accustomed to unending snow, cold temperatures, the feel of teamwork with the wind in their faces, this must have been a miserable life.

Saved by Businessman

One businessman from Cleveland certainly thought the dogs were ill-served. After George Kimble saw the dogs in California, he contacted the Cleveland newspapers and announced a “Balto Fund.” He could not figure out a way to get the team back to Alaska, but he could free them from the sideshow.

After some haggling, Kimble owned the dogs. In 1927, the Cleveland townspeople—who raised the money–sponsored a big parade to welcome Balto’s team to Cleveland. The dogs were placed at the Cleveland Zoo where “they lived in comfort” and the public could visit them for the rest of their lives. (That’s certainly not what people of today would have recommended but the entire team was kept together. This may have helped.

The newspaper kept the public up-to-date on Balto’s health at the end of his life. Balto died on March 14, 1933 at the age of 14. After his death, his body was preserved by a taxidermist. It was placed in the Cleveland Museum of Natural History where he can still be seen today.

Seppala, Too, Visited the United States

After the serum run, Leonhard Seppala was also invited to the United States for speaking tours. He proved to be good at public speaking, and he enjoyed it. Though Togo’s age and the stress of the of the serum run was beginning to affect him, he was healthy enough to enjoy personal appearances with his master.

The two made their way slowly across the country to the Northeast. Part of the draw in New England might have been well-respected dog breeder Arthur T. Walden who established his Chinook kennels in New Hampshire.

Walden was delighted to have the famed Leonhard Seppala in the area. His Chinook team had been carefully thought through—strong, fast, and intelligent, but breeding out all wolf traits that most sled dogs carried. 

Seppala and Togo were something new in the area. Seppala favored the smaller, powerfully-built Siberian huskies.

Sled Dog Race in Maine

Walden proposed a sled dog race to take place in Maine. Walden wanted to test his new breed, the Chinook, against Seppala’s dog choice the Siberian huskies. The Chinook team looked good, but the huskies, led by Togo, were fast.

Togo’s team won by several minutes; Seppala even had time to stop to help untangle one of the Chinook teams.

While in New Hampshire, Leonhard Seppala met the wife of the resort owner at Poland Spring. Elizabeth Ricker expressed interest in setting up a kennel breeding Siberian huskies. He hired Seppala to establish it for her.

Leonhard Seppala remained for a couple of years, Togo—now an indoor dog due to age—accompanied Seppala in his kennel work.

Sad Parting

When Leonhard Seppala needed to return to Alaska, he knew Togo was too old for the trip. Though Togo would have a warm and loving home with Elizabeth Ricker, the parting between Seppala and his favorite dog of all time must have been difficult.

Recognition Today

Today Balto is no longer the only dog recognized for his heroism. Togo now has a statue in New York City’s Seward Park, and his story has now been told in a Disney movie. In addition, each year a Leonhard Seppala Humanitarian award given to Iditarod musher judged to have taken the best care of their dogs

In the end, Leonhard Seppala had the perfect words: “Afterward, 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 dog teams to bring it through.”

For more stories of sled dogs, read Polaris, Peary Sledge Dog Descendant or Sled Dog Team Travels from Nome to Washington, D.C.

Unalaska, a lead sled dog with the Admiral Byrd Antarctic Expedition in 1928-30, showed bravery and intelligence at every turn. Despite icy barriers, gaping crevasses, massive swirling snowstorms, and sub-zero temperatures, he avoided serious difficulty for his team.

The dogs were in Antarctica for two years while Admiral Richard Byrd and his men explored the continent, conducted scientific experiments, and picked samples to bring to the U.S. for more study. 

Despite the dangers and difficulties of the two-year expedition, Unalaska flourished, only to meet his end in Monroe, Louisiana. He was killed by a hit-and-run driver. 

It was not a heroic death, but Unalaska remains a hero.

“He never turned back,” were Admiral Richard Byrd’s words when he heard the news.

Here’s what we know of Unalaska’s story:

Unalaska

Unalaska was reported to have been born in 1923 in the Northwest Territories of Canada near the Arctic Ocean. He was a mix of wolf, St. Bernard, setter, and Siberian husky. With that genetic makeup, he was a good-sized puppy who grew strong quickly. The kennel where he was born soon made use of him as part of a team.

By the mid-1920s, Admiral Richard Byrd (1888-1957) was a renowned explorer. He received several recognitions for his military service during World War I. And after a successful trans-Atlantic flight in 1927, he was welcomed back to New York with a ticker tape parade.

Because of his fame, he had the opportunity to hand-pick many of the dogs that went with him on his journeys—Unalaska must have been one of them. Dog handlers knew their kennels grew in value if Byrd chose one of their dogs.

Dog Puncher

Byrd’s selection of his “dog puncher” (the man chosen to oversee all the dog teams) was equally important. A fellow named Arthur T. Walden (1871-1947) was Byrd’s choice.   

Walden became well-known during the Klondike Gold Rush in the late 1890s. Like many other men, he found the promise of gold in the Klondike region of Canada very enticing.  Walden tried mining for a time, he soon saw that the odds of making a successful strike were very low. But Walden saw that other men did well by finding a need and filling it. (See the story about Levi Strauss.)

At the turn of the century, the only way to navigate the Klondike and Alaska during winter months was via dog sled.  Walden realized that he could provide a service miners needed and for which they would pay—freight-hauling with his dog teams. He hauled supplies in—and occasionally hauled gold out during those years.

Developed New Breed

His new business also gave him time to study the dog traits he preferred for the work. Most sled dogs at that time had some genetic mix of wolf in them. That often works well. At times, however, the part-wolf animals became dangerous.

Walden experimented with other ideas. His home base was in New Hampshire, where he had an opportunity to trade thoughts with naturalist and writer Ernest Harold Baynes, who also lived in New Hampshire.  Baynes was given a Greenland Eskimo Dog after he visited the island where Admiral Peary’s dogs lived and were bred. The dog was a beautiful, well-built dog named Polaris.

Either Walden or Baynes saw the possibilities in using Polaris for breeding. He was eventually mated with a farm dog that was part bullmastiff. Three puppies resulted.

From that group, Walden developed the dog we now know as the Chinook breed. Chinook dogs are a tawny-coated animal with power, endurance, and speed. They were also gentle dogs who had friendly dispositions.   

Walden and the Antarctic Trip

Sixteen of Walden’s Chinook dogs were selected to make the Antarctic trip.

Walden preferred running seven-dog teams. This meant that Walden would need 8-10 dog teams for Antarctica. Coming up with enough trained sled dogs was always challenging. Dogs acquired from the Eskimos could be used. Because the Eskimos guided the dogs by running alongside the team themselves, the dogs were not lead dog material, but they were strong.  They were perfect when added to the back of the pack.

Unalaska’s strength, intelligence, and ability made him an easy choice as one of the lead dogs.

Mushers

Mushers were also carefully chosen. Most of these men work without recognition, but three achieved some recognition after making Admiral Byrd a hard-to-refuse offer. 

Norman Vaughan grew up in a community not far from Admiral Byrd’s home in Boston.  As a young boy, Vaughan longed for adventure and read widely about various expeditions. Tales of Arctic expeditions and travel in Alaska with sledge dogs always fascinated him.   

He and a neighborhood friend decided their dogs could become sled dogs if they trained them. Vaughan owned a German shepherd mix named Rex; his friend, Eddie Goodale, provided his dog, Fido. Using a long rope and a wagon, they harnessed up the two dogs.

When Norman called “Mush!”, he discovered that both house pets thought that meant “come!” The dogs awkwardly turned around in harness and rushed back to deliver slobbery kisses to Norman.

With that, the boys saw that the training needed to proceed with one of the boys running alongside the animals so the dogs would know where to go. (Eskimos often work with their dogs in this way. The dogs pull the laden sleds, and a couple of the men run alongside them as they travel.)

As the boys grew older, the dog games must have fallen by the wayside, but the friendship continued.  Both Vaughan and Goodale were accepted by Harvard University where they met another like-minded fellow, Freddie Crockett.

Harvard Men

When the news headlines “Byrd to the South Pole” appeared in newspapers, Norman Vaughan, Ed Goodale, and Fred Crockett determined this might be their moment for adventure.

Vaughan sent a letter to Admiral Byrd, offering to work with dogs at no pay if he might be considered when Byrd made the final choice on the mushers. Byrd saw the wisdom of adding smart men to his crew, and he agreed.

Vaughan, Goodale, and Crockett worked hard that year. When it came time for Byrd to make his selection, the three Harvard men made the cut. They answered to Arthur Walden, the head dog puncher.

The Purpose of the Trip

Antarctica was briefly visited by American explorer Charles Wilkes in 1840, but no other American had ventured back. Essentially, the continent was still unexplored.

During the early 1900s, explorers began venturing out, and the era became known as the “heroic age of Antarctic exploration.” Those who visited Antarctica included British explorer Captain Robert Falcon Scott who was there in 1901. Shortly after Scott, Ernest Shackleton led three major expeditions. Norwegian Roald Amundsen spent 1911-1912 exploring the area, and geologist Douglas Mawson led a very difficult journey there on behalf of Australia.

Admiral Byrd, an American, saw that his contribution needed to be for science. His plan involved what they could study onsite and what they could bring back to learn more. His plan necessitated two ships, three airplanes, 42 men, and 95 dogs. The cook also took along a cow so that the men could enjoy fresh milk for as long as possible.

Special Tag-Along

Admiral Byrd’s terrier, Igloo, was among the travelers on this expedition. Igloo required a special snowsuit to withstand the cold as terrier fur was not designed to withstand Arctic temperatures.

And as terriers will, Igloo followed his nature and loved stirring up the sledge dogs—on shipboard and on land. The dogs often gave back what Igloo likely deserved. Unalaska himself more than likely took a nip or two out of Igloo at some point. (When the men heard Igloo’s yelps, they always rescued him. Igloo often needed stitches, but he certainly had fun. For more details on this story, see Admiral Richard Byrd’s Dog, Igloo.)

The Trip

The Byrd Antarctic trip was to be the largest and best-equipped expedition that ever set out for the southern continent. 

In the fall of 1928, the expedition established a large base camp called “little America” on the Ross Ice Shelf near the Bay of Whales. As Byrd planned it, the dogs would be used to travel and establish four substations on the way to the South Pole. By leaving supplies at each substation, they put in place stopping points for the aviation team to conduct repairs and to refuel as necessary.

And if perhaps, the plane did not fare well, the dog teams would be able to reach the substations to bring the men back to the ship.

Work Begins

Photographic expeditions and geological surveys were undertaken the first summer. A point of pride was that the men maintained constant radio communications with the outside world.

The following autumn, November 28, 1929, Byrd was ready to make the first attempt at flying to the South Pole. Leaving from Little America, Byrd, along with a pilot and the co-pilot, flew the plane, the  Floyd Bennett, to the South Pole and back in 18 hours, 41 minutes. It was an arduous flight that necessitated many last-minute emergency measures. Ultimately, they were successful flying over the geographic South Pole.

They also conducted flights across the Antarctic continent and discovered much unknown territory.

The expedition was considered a big success. In June of 1930, the ships returned to North America.

Several months after their return, the expedition was honored by the American Geographical Society with their gold medal.

Cultivating Support

Admiral Byrd did a great deal of networking with wealthy men who were likely to invest in future expeditions, President Franklin Roosevelt, Henry Ford, Edsel Ford, John D. Rockefeller, Jr. and Vincent Astor were among them. But Byrd also knew the importance of sharing the information with the public.

At that time, there was no television news, and certainly no Internet. The custom was for explorers—or anyone with a story to tell—to mount a road show. That way the American public could visit the  traveling exhibition and hear speakers. The adventurers loved sharing their experiences, and it brought publicity to the cause.

For this expedition, Carroll Foster, a member of the Antarctic team, was put in charge of traveling with Admiral Byrd’s South Pole Exhibit.  The dog teams weren’t working at that time, so the trip organizers often arranged for one or two of them to go along. The dogs were guaranteed crowd pleasers.

Unalaska and a dog named Lady were the pair of dogs scheduled for visits in Louisiana. C.B. Foster was devoted to their care and made sure they got plenty of exercise each day. Most days, Foster drove them to a park where the dogs could run without restraint.

Unalaska Hit

On the early morning of January 3, 1931, Carroll Foster drove Unalaska and Lady to Forsythe Park. Foster parked along the roadway as he usually did. When he opened the car door, the dogs jumped out, eager for their run.

A speeding car caught Foster and the dogs by surprise. Unalaska was hit and dragged for about 50 feet until his body finally unhooked from the car.

The driver barely slowed down and never confessed to the crime. Despite a reward offered to anyone who could identify him, no one was ever found.   

Well-known writer Alfred Payson Terhune wrote: “Unalaska had gambled with death a thousand times in blizzards and across ice floes. Through his courage and brains and muscle, he had won. But it profited him nothing. For at the last he died at the wheels of a carelessly driven car, whose owner had not the decency to stop and mutter a word of regret at his wanton dog-murder.”

The Aftermath

The news traveled through the community. Sorrow was matched by horror among the residents at what happened in their small town.

Arrangements were quickly made to have a funeral for Unalaska. He was to be buried on the grounds of property belonging to the American Legion. The Cory-Davis funeral home volunteered its embalming services. Unalaska was placed in a white velvet casket linked with pink silk cushions.

On January 6, 1931, schools closed early so that children of Monroe could attend the funeral.

Before the service, the open casket was on display. The Boy Scouts stood beside the tiny bier. Those who wanted to could pass by to pay their respects.

When the service was to begin, the scouts closed the casket and carried it to the flower-bedecked grave. Carroll Foster gave the eulogy.

One of the men from the trip later wrote: “He [Unalaska] was the only leader known to me that could handle four timber wolves at the same time in one team. I estimate that in all, Unalaska led his teams over 5,000 miles. He could foresee danger and not once did he lead his teams into dangerous places.”

A Proper Memorial

Though the funeral was appropriate, the children of Monroe wanted an official marker for the grave. They began a fundraising campaign, but they quickly received help from businesses. The construction company that was building the local high school donated a 700-lb Indiana limestone marker and put it in place.

And the J.M. Supply Company in town provided a bronze tablet that was inscribed with Unalaska’s name and history. The plaque read:

Sacred to the memory of Unalaska, killed by automobile in this city, January 3, 1931, a dog of the Byrd Antarctic expedition, whose dauntless courage played an important part in that great scientific adventure. “A great leader and a true friend—he never turned back—Admiral Byrd.”

Unveiling

The marker was unveiled at a special service on July 9, 1931. Eight-year-old  Armond McHenry made the dedication speech:

“The dog we have met here today to honor was a noble animal. He could remember more things than can some small boys, and I suspect he enjoyed work a little more. Unalaska was faithful, loyal, honorable, never betrayed a trust placed in him, and was loving and kind.”

Schoolgirls pulled back the fabric covering the marker. The crowd applauded, and respectful silence followed.

A Bad Surprise the Next Day

A day later–July 10–the marker was gone. This was no easy feat as the granite marker weighed 700 pounds. Someone with big equipment seemed to have come on to the property and broken up the marker before hauling it off.

A local rumor spread that there had been disagreement among the members of the American Legion. Many felt that only humans should be memorialized on their property. Some felt the gravesite of a dog dishonored the Legion.

Unalaska Grave Moved

Whatever happened, supporters of Unalaska moved quickly. The casket was retrieved, and the school principal suggested that Unalaska be re-buried at the Georgia Tucker Elementary School.

A second service followed shortly after. A new marker was made. Unalaska’s image was etched into the stone, and it was inscribed: “Unalaska, a husky of Admiral Richard E. Byrd, South Pole Expedition, buried here. Jan 1931.”

Over time, Unalaska’s grave had to be relocated again due to construction. As of 2018, the grave site is safely placed on the property of The Gardens at Georgia Tucker Assisted Living Community.

Polaris was a puppy when Ernest Harold Baynes, an American naturalist and writer, visited Admiral Robert Peary at Eagle Island in Casco Bay near Portland, Maine in 1914.  When Peary offered to take Baynes by motor launch over to Flag Island to show Baynes some of the dogs that pulled Peary’s sledges on the North Pole Expedition in 1908-09, Baynes was eager to go.

The dogs lived and were bred on the island under the care of Captain Robert Bartlett, the sea captain who navigated many Arctic journeys, including Peary’s journey to the North Pole on the S.S. Roosevelt. Baynes was well-known for his animal expertise, so Peary assured him that if one of the puppies was old enough to leave the island, that Baynes could take one with him.

The puppy, of course, became Polaris, a dog that spent several years living with Baynes and his wife near Meriden, New Hampshire, where Polaris was admired and mostly made new friends.

Polaris was a Greenland Eskimo dog, a breed known for being closely related to wolves. Though Polaris happily lived with the Baynes family and their Great Dane and Scottish terrier, Polaris was known to kill mice, chickens, pigs, and sheep upon occasion.  

Yet hardly anyone ever held any of the destruction against Polaris. The dog was handsome and of a good disposition. It was hard to stay mad at him for long. As Captain Bob Bartlett said, “Polaris was the finest Eskimo dog in the world.”

Because Polaris was a special dog, friends encouraged Ernest Baynes (1868-1925) to tell his story. The book was published in 1922.

Why Baynes Wanted Polaris

The North Greenland Eskimo dog is not that far removed from the wolf family. Most pet owners might have thought twice before bringing home a pup from a breed that is not readily domesticated, but Ernest Baynes was a naturalist who studied all types of animals. His home in New Hampshire had seen many types of injured animals cared for there. He felt more than capable of taking on the challenge of raising Polaris.

Baynes’s job at that time was as a conservator at a buffalo reserve.  Austin Corbin, Jr. created Corbin Park near the Blue Mountain Forest in New Hampshire to preserve bison. The numbers of animals in the U.S. were dropping precipitously, from 35 million buffalo in the 1870s to 500-1000 in the early 1900s.

Baynes work as a conservator dovetailed perfectly with his overall interest in animal preservation. One of his other causes was to save birds that were being killed for their plumes. Feathers in fashion were all the rage, and it was decimating birds of all types. (Also see Harriet Lawrence Hemenway: Saving Birds One Hat at a Time to read about more efforts to preserve birds.)

Polaris Arrives in New Hampshire

Ernest Baynes arrived at his home near Meriden, New Hampshire (northwest of Manchester) with the puppy. He needed to introduce the small, fluffy wriggling ball of energy that he acquired from Captain Bartlett and Admiral Peary to the family.  The first job, if course, was presenting Polaris to the dogs who lived there. Beowulf was a Great Dane, and Heatherbloom was a year-old Scottish terrier.

The two dogs were in the front yard when Baynes arrived with the puppy. He put Polaris down to be evaluated by the other two. Beowulf pulled himself up to his full height but seemed merely puzzled. He sniffed the woolly puppy, gave Polaris a poke with his nose, and walked off.

Heatherbloom was more interested. She remained about 50 feet from the puppy. With her head down between her paws, she crawled forward stealthily. Polaris hadn’t a clue what was happening. When Heatherbloom got closer, she jumped at him, catching the Eskimo puppy off guard. Polaris went rolling head over heels. Then he picked himself up. After a moment, it was “game on” for the two dogs.

Playmate to Protector

Though Polaris quickly grew from playmate to protector, he and Heatherbloom remained the best of friends. Polaris frequently had to discourage suitors who sometimes came sniffing around looking for the Scottie.

One day he and Heatherbloom were playing in the house, when one of them decided it was time to go outside. Heatherbloom dashed to the door and barked to notify any available human to open the door. Polaris dashed to the door and lunged through the screen. After that, the Baynes family simply left the hole in the screen. Polaris had chosen his preferred means of egress.

Handsome Eskimo Dog

“He was at his best in winter, when his splendid coat of spun silver was a robe fit for this king of dogs,” writes Baynes. “The long hair on his shoulders measured nine inches, and that on his tail, which flowed over his hind quarters in a silvery cascade, was more than a foot in length. It gleamed in the sunshine as if it were burnished, and reflected light to a degree almost unbelievable to one who has not seen other dogs of this type.”  Polaris had both an undercoat and an overcoat for warmth in arctic temperatures. Dirt rarely clung to the overcoat which meant unless he came home streaked with blood, as sometimes happened, he rarely needed to be washed.

Polaris Was No Saint

When out with the dogs one day, Baynes saw Heatherbloom in a sheep pasture hunting grasshoppers. Before he had time to call her, several sheep took issue with her being in their pasture. As they moved toward her, Heatherbloom scampered out, but Polaris was ready to take them on. Baynes called him, and he responded. Baynes and the dogs continued their walk to check on some birds that interested Baynes.

When it was time to return, Baynes saw that Heatherbloom and Beowulf were right beside him, but Polaris was nowhere to be found. Baynes called and whistled…and then realized to his horror where Polaris might have gone.

Baynes started running for the sheep pasture, but he was too late. Polaris bounded toward him, looking quite pleased. As Ernest Baynes looked beyond Polaris, he saw in the distance that there were 14 dead sheep.

Come-Uppance?

After stopping at a brook to wash the blood off Polaris, Baynes, Polaris, and the other two dogs stopped at the home of the sheep owner to apologize and pay for the sheep.

Mrs. C____, as she is identified in the book, would have none of it. She already knew and loved Polaris. As Ernest Baynes told her the story of the sheep, Polaris looked innocently up at her.

Mrs. C___ replied, “How do you know he killed the sheep; did you see him kill them?”

“Just look at him!” she continued. Mrs. C_____ then rose and took out a cake that she promptly put on the floor for Polaris. Polaris showed no guilt as he gobbled down the homemade cake.

The Joy of Chickens

For sport, Polaris particularly enjoyed killing chickens. All the fluff of the feathers and the quick end to the squawking must have brought Polaris the same pleasure as a squeak toy does to a more domesticated pet.

But there wasn’t much that intimidated Polaris. When the dogs were with Baynes at a nearby farm, a cow charged down a pathway toward Heatherbloom. Polaris was having none of it. He lunged at the cow, biting into the neck. He brought a quick end to the bovine’s life.

Sledge Dogs

Baynes expected that Polaris would take quickly to pulling a sled. When snow fell in New Hampshire, Baynes retrieved a sled from the barn and harnessed Polaris to it. Polaris, did indeed pull nicely. Mrs. Baynes used the sled sometimes to go into town. Generally, she and the groceries would ride home on the sled.  All went well unless Polaris became distracted. There were times that both Mrs. Baynes and the groceries went flying.

Ernest Baynes also had a pack saddle made for Polaris. This was handy when he and the dogs were going to town or delivering items to neighbors.   

Summers in Cornish

The summers spent in Cornish, New Hampshire, which was about 10 miles southwest of Meriden, were a joy. Sculptor Augustus Saint-Gardens was the first of many artists to move to the area. After he established residence, other sculptors, writers, painters, and designers followed.

Ernest Baynes, his wife, and dogs also stayed nearby. Beautiful mountains surrounded by lakes offered good hiking territory. Polaris was perfectly happy to have more turf to explore.

Among their friends was illustrator Maxfield Parrish who summered there with his family. Generally, Baynes and Polaris were welcome guests. One day they encountered a surprise.

Visiting in Cornish

As they approached the house, Polaris ran ahead as he sometimes did. Baynes had no concern until he heard chaos erupt from the house. The house featured floor to ceiling windows in the front rooms. The windows were open, so Polaris simply walked in.

Rather than a warm greeting from the children who were taking a dance class with a governess, Polaris was greeted by a growl from their new black dog. Polaris met the greeting in kind, and the two dogs wrestled with each other.  As Baynes arrived in the drawing room, one of the children clung to the governess and another stood on the piano bench. In the far corner near the fireplace, Baynes saw a black-and-white pinwheel of energy.

Both dogs were barking and growling.  Illustrator Parrish was leaping and shouting, while holding his work-in-progress up high: “Get out! Get out! Get out!” Ernest Baynes raced in and separated the two dogs.  The Parrish dog was not badly injured, and Baynes sustained some minor wounds for stepping in the middle of the fray. The dogs were separated, and other than the fright, no one was any worse for it.

Crowning Moment

In 1916, Captain Robert Bartlett, the man who piloted the S.S. Roosevelt when Peary traveled to the North Pole, was to be honored in Boston for his considerable part in Arctic exploration. (For more on this expedition, read Matthew Henson: Co-Discoverer of the North Pole) Baynes was invited to the dinner but was reluctant to go. It would mean several days away from his work, and he wondered what possible contribution he could make.  But when he realized he could make the perfect addition to the evening, he changed his mind. He would take Polaris so guests could see what sledge dogs were like.

Polaris looked handsome, and he was warmly received by the dinner guests. Ernest Baynes spoke in tribute to Bartlett. Afterward, Captain Bartlett pronounced Polaris the perfect specimen of an Eskimo dog.

Baynes Lecture Schedule

Ernest Baynes was becoming better known for his work as a naturalist and his outspoken activity to protect birds. As a result, his lecture schedule became busier. When he could, he took Polaris with him, as the dog was a guaranteed attraction.  But Polaris could not tell time or read a train schedule.

Sometimes Baynes would have to leave for the train, knowing that Polaris was off—likely with some town children—exploring the new neighborhood. When this happened, Baynes left instructions for the townspeople to hold on to Polaris until Baynes came back through town on his way home.

Family Emergency

Though the book does not specify what the crisis was, Baynes writes that quite unexpectedly the dogs needed to be placed in other homes for a time. Of Polaris, he writes: “Polaris was an easy dog to find a home for, but a hard dog to find the right home for.”

Ultimately, he decided that Polaris needed to be sent where he could do the work he was destined for. He contacted Dr. Wilfred T. Grenfell. Grenfell was a physician who trained in London and then chose to go to Newfoundland to practice medicine. The coastal inhabitants of the area made their livings as fishermen, but there were no medical facilities to help them if they became injured or sick.

Grenfell arrived and evaluated what was needed. Being able to travel to different villages was vital, so he brought a sled dog team and two doctors and two nurses to help with the mission. They also established two cottage hospitals, schools, and an orphanage.

His humanitarian work was well-known and his need for good dogs was also apparent. Baynes decided that this was the perfect place for Polaris.  Baynes thought, what could be more fitting than a great dog becoming a companion and assistant to a dedicated man doing a noble work for humanity. Grenfell’s only concern was for Polaris. Would the newcomer be beaten down by the other sledge dogs?

Baynes said not to worry.

One More Incident

Because it was winter, Polaris had to stay with Mrs. F. H. Smith. President of the Worcester Animal Rescue League. She promised to deliver the dog to Boston when the ice thawed enough that supplies could be delivered to Labrador and Newfoundland.    

Despite the family issues, Ernest Baynes continued with some of his lectures. He was to speak at the Museum of Natural History in New York City to a gathering of blind people. The people were to be given the opportunity to feel models of the different birds and animals Baynes described. He thought how wonderful it would be for the audience to be able to feel the wonders of Polaris and his thick coat, so he asked Mrs. Smith to bring Polaris to New York City.

The speech was well-received. Afterward, the audience filed through to touch the models of the birds and animals, and to have the opportunity to pet Polaris. Unfortunately, one gentleman did not understand that Polaris was alive, and he poked him in the ribs with his guide stick. Polaris turned, probably expecting a pat on the head or an apology of some sort. The man just looked at him, unseeing. Feeling threatened, Polaris lunged at the man, teeth bared.

Ernest Baynes, always watchful at these times, saw what was happening. He moved quickly. The snap of Polaris’s teeth came on Baynes hand instead of the man’s throat.

But there was no calming Polaris. Baynes’s effort to change the mood were in vain. He put a muzzle on Polaris and led him to a room to reduce stimulation. But Polaris growled and fought against Baynes, which was very unusual.  Fearing that this might have permanently spooked Polaris, Baynes did not have any good options other than giving Polaris time. He locked the room, left a “Do Not Enter” sign on the door and left the museum for the night. 

When Ernest Baynes returned the next day, he was greatly relieved. When the door was unlocked, Polaris bounded forward to be greeted.

Off to Newfoundland and Labrador

Baynes was a big believer that dogs are dogs. He considered anthropomorphizing these magnificent creatures is a disservice. As a result, the author saw no need for concluding chapter as to Polaris’s life in the North.

What we do have is information from Dr. Grenfell. He was in New York on business about a year after Polaris came to him. Baynes and Grenfell had time for a quick meeting. Dr. Grenfell verified that Baynes was correct in his prediction about Polaris.

When Polaris first arrived, Dr. Grenfell introduced him to just three of the other sledge dogs.  With the first three, Polaris handily asserted his dominance.

A few days later, a stronger team came in form the trail. Polaris beat those dogs except for the lead Husky. Initially, the two dogs fought to a draw, but when Grenfell came back to check on the dogs, something else had happened. The Husky watched from a corner while Polaris strutted around the area knowing that he achieved the status he deserved—lead dog.

***

For another story about sled dogs, read Sled Dog Team Travels from Nome to D.C., 1907.

A sled dog team making its way from Nome, Alaska, to Washington, D.C. in 1907 grabbed headlines across the nation.

The trip was 8000 miles through snow drifts and grasslands and was a wager undertaken by Eli Smith, musher and postal employee. Smith left Nome in November of 1905 with an eight-dog team led by a wolf that Smith rescued when a pup.

Klondike Gold Rush

In August of 1896, gold was discovered in the Klondike region of the Yukon. An estimated 100,000 prospectors made their way north to Canada in search of gold. Photographs show lines of men with backpacks traveling to the gold fields, but those who knew Northwest Canada had dog sleds to carry their equipment and speed travel.

Eli Smith (1856-1948) was one of many men in the region looking for gold. Like others, Smith had some good luck—and then a lot less good luck.

As he prospected, He traveled with a strong dog team. According to the book, Wolf, the Storm Leader, Smith used huskies (“malamoots”), “Siwash” dogs (native dogs that weren’t huskies), and a few “outside dogs” (regular dogs that were good as part of a team).

One day Smith ran into a man who was dragging with him an injured wolf pup. Smith disliked mistreatment of any animal and offered the man some gold dust for the wolf. The fellow happily agreed to the trade.

Wolf Settles In

The pup was in need of medical attention, so for the first few days, Smith kept him inside his cabin in Dawson City in the Yukon. When Wolf was better, he lived outside chained to a stake as the other dogs were. Sometimes Smith would take him with him to town but always leashed.

As winter arrived, Smith harnessed the dogs for the work at hand. Sometimes they brought back wood for the fire; other times, he used the team so that he could visit his sluice boxes to take care of any repairs necessary.

Slowly, Smith began to experiment with adding Wolf to the dog team. Wolf was happy to work, and over time, he proved to be an exceptional team leader. Because wolves have a superior sense of smell, Wolf could pick up scents that eluded most dogs. Many times that helped them find their way home.

Klondike Slows Down

News traveled slowly in gold country. Miners in Dawson City had infrequent deliveries of the U.S. mail, or they awaited travelers who might bring news.

In late 1898, the miners were particularly thrilled to hear that gold was discovered in Nome. Hope was dimming for more gold in the Klondike, so even a 60-day journey from Dawson to Nome seemed worthwhile.

By the fall of 1899, most of the Klondike miners were breaking camp and setting out for Nome, and Smith, too, was ready for the new adventure. It would be a long trip through wicked conditions, so Smith packed food and supplies carefully. Wolf had been with Eli for three years by this time, and he was very much a part of the pack.

As Smith and his team traveled, they frequently saw men and dogs whom they knew from Dawson City.

The Trip to Nome

Among the men, Smith was among the most careful with his animals. The sled dogs  that were not part huskies or part wolf needed leather “booties” to protect the pads of their feet for the long journey over ice. Smith was one of the few who took the time to create leather footwear for his dogs.

When they reached the stretch of trail near the Bering Sea, they encountered a storm that gave Eli pause. It came up suddenly and the winds were extraordinarily fierce. The temperature dropped quickly to the range of 60 below. This was one of the first times when Eli realized Wolf’s worth. Because Wolf could pick up scents from beneath the snow cover, he always knew which way to go.

No Luck for Eli in Nome

Eli Smith did not have early luck in Nome, so he needed other work. When he heard the U.S. government was paying well for mushers who took a mail route, he signed up. The work was hard. The mail was heavy and the distances were long, but he had a good team and knew he could do it.

Smith was assigned one of the most difficult routes, a 350-mile run from Nome to Unalakleet through some of the most storm-prone territories. He acquired a partner, so that they could rest between runs. Between the two men they also added more dogs and built their own lightweight sleds. Because of the weight of the mail, the dogs were harnessed in pairs and were fed three times each day instead of just twice.

Life as a mail carrier soon proved challenging but manageable, and Smith was happy with the work.

Alaska Gains Representation in Congress

Though Alaska did not become a territory until 1912, the District of Alaska gained a representative in Congress in 1905. Locals wanted to make Congress aware that Alaska needed investment in roads and railroads.

With that in mind, a wager was offered by a fellow named Lucky Johnson (sources do not agree on who offers the wager; Johnson is mentioned in Frank Caldwell’s book). For any musher who traveled from Nome to Washington, D.C. Johnson offered  a $10.000 reward. (Some accounts say only $5,00 was offered.)

There were stipulations:

-The musher must leave Nome with 10 dogs and arrive in Washington, D.C. with at least six dogs from the original team.

-He must arrive in Washington before February 22, 1907, to be there before Congress adjourned for the 1907 term.

-He must visit President Teddy Roosevelt to discuss Alaska’s needs and receive from the president a signed note that established date of arrival.

Eli Smith Leaves Nome

Smith knew what a great team he had and accepted the challenge. He found someone to take his mail route during his absence. The trip was 8000 miles, and it would be a hard go. He wasted no time and left Nome on November 14, 1905.

With Wolf as leader they made the difficult passage past Unalakleet, across the portage and on to Nulato, From there they followed the Valdez Trail to Fairbanks where they boarded a ship for Seattle. The dogs did not like the ocean passage and were glad when the team stepped out on land again.  As the weather warmed in the northwest, the sled became difficult to pull. One of the farmers with whom Smith and the team stayed offered to add wheels to the sled to make the going easier.

Press Coverage as They Traveled

As Eli Smith’s sled dog team traveled through states in the Lower 48, he attracted attention and press. One of the questions he frequently received concerned how he remained motivated and kept the team going.

Smith noted that the dogs all knew their names, so mornings began with Smith calling each dog by name. He would receive a tail wag and the appropriate canine stepped forward for his harness.  As the day wore on, he kept up a patter with them.

“I never whip my dogs, but I talk to them, whistle tunes for them, and sing to them. They like musical sounds, but aren’t picky. It doesn’t take a very high class of music to please them.”

Dog Music

Smith also said that at night, the dogs made their own music. Huskies (and wolves) don’t bark but they do howl. In the evenings, Smith fell asleep listening to Wolf and the huskies calling around to other wildlife in the area.

Along the way, there were some surprises. A report in The Star Press in Muncie, Indiana, reported that the dogs sometimes encountered farm animals. Along one rural road, a flock of chickens startled and flew up from behind a stone fence.  Even in harness, the dogs made quick work of creating their own chicken dinner.  As usual when these things happened, Smith found the farmer and made good on the fellow’s loss.  And chickens were cheaper than the calf they took down. “My dogs will kill anything but not a human being,” explained Smith.

Reaches D.C.

On February 2, 1907, Eli Smith and the team could be found traveling up Connecticut Avenue to the White House, attracting a lot of public attention. He drove the only sled dog team amidst  horse-drawn wagons, buggies, and early automobiles. It was one year, three months, and six days since the day he left Nome.

When he pulled into the muddy drive that led to the Executive Mansion, the President was alerted. Within moments, Teddy Roosevelt came out to greet Eli Smith and to say hello to all the dogs. “Bully, Bully! Fine,” were the words the press could hear the president saying.

To their great good fortune, Roosevelt’s sons, Archie and Quentin, arrived home from school while Smith and his team were still outside the White House. The dogs were snoozing in the winter sun, and the boys were delighted to join in the conversation. The press caught a photo of Quentin sitting in the sled after he was introduced to each of the dogs.

Then Roosevelt suggested that Eli bring the dog around to the back of the house so Mrs. Roosevelt could admire them, too. Smith put the dogs through their paces to demonstrate the work of a good dog team, and Eli was invited to return to the Executive Mansion for dinner later that evening.

Heading Home

After the successful completion of their journey, Smith and team were to return to Nome, but they had been joined by Frank Caldwell (1867-1938). He was a a lecture agent who was sent to Alaska to help spread the word about religion to the men in the gold fields.

Frank Caldwell met Eli Smith in Alaska, and he saw great potential in Smith’s story. Caldwell provided photographs for a magic lantern presentation for Smith to use, and he set up lecture dates along the route home. Smith continued to tell people about the wonders of Alaska, introduced the dogs wherever he was, and made some money on the way home.

One of the most frequently asked questions concerned Wolf. Would he consider selling him? Smith’s answer was always the same: “Would you sell one of your children?”

Wolf, Storm Leader

As for Wolf, he did all that he was supposed to do to make the trip possible. Eli Smith rewarded him by removing his harness. From that day forward, Wolf either ran free alongside the team, or if he tired as old dogs can do, he hopped into the sled and rode for a time.

When Smith returned to Alaska, they settled down in Nome, but soon a new strike occurred further north. Like the other prospectors, Smith and his team went along for the next adventure.

True to his promise, Eli Smith kept Wolf—the best storm leader in all of Alaska—with him for the rest of Wolf’s life.

***

For another story about the dogs of Alaska, read The Iditarod: Also about Exploration of Alaska.