← Against The Odds
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- [00:00]
Mike Corey
Wondery subscribers can listen to against the Odds early and ad free right now. Join Wondery in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Wild Bill Shannon guides his dog team west along the trail. Behind him, faint glimmers of daylight bloom slowly over the mountains to the east, but the light does nothing to ease the intense cold. It was 50 below when he left the Minto Roadhouse a few hours ago. He guesses it's much colder than that now, especially with the wind chill. Shannon's fingers feel like blocks of ice. He windmills his arms forward and back and slaps his hands against his thighs in the sled's handlebars, trying to get blood circulating again. He can tell that he is on the verge of frostbite. It's the morning of January 28, 1925. It's been a week since a diphtheria outbreak hit the town of Nome, Alaska. At least four children are dead. Shannon is part of a dog sled relay bringing a supply of antitoxin serum to Nome, which is more than 600 miles to the west. He's the relay's first musher. Last night he and his team traveled 30 miles before stopping at a roadhouse to rest and drink coffee. Now he has 22 miles to go to reach the village of Tolovana, where another dog sled mus will take the serum on the next stage of the relay. The relay is following the sled trails of the postal route, known as the Mail Trail. It winds along the north shore of the frozen Tanana River. Shannon's team tugs the sled forward and the dogs heads hang low. They're as cold and tired as he is. He occasionally hops off the sled and runs beside the team to stay warm. But then one of his dogs begins to stumble. Soon the pup is bleeding from the mouth and nearing collapse. The cold air is burning the dog's lungs, the same potentially deadly condition that affected three of his dogs last night. Shannon has no choice but to stop the sled to unharness the dog. He puts the dog in the sled, then guides the rest of his team out onto the river ice, which is smoother than the trail. Hike. Hike. Shannon knows the relay needs to get the life saving serum to Nome as fast as possible. The 52 mile journey from the train station at Nenana normally takes 22 full days, but Shannon hopes to cover it in just 12 hours. Suddenly, up ahead, he sees a black hole in the ice. He shouts to his lead dog, whoa. Whoa, Blackie. Ha. Ha. Blackie swerves and the team follows. Shannon clings to the handlebars as the sled nearly tips over. He manages to get back on the trail, but his hands are so stiff he can barely hang on. Finally, Shannon sees the trees that frozen fringe the riverside village of Tolovana. He spots the faint outline of a roadhouse up ahead, the snow covered hut that will bring some relief to his frozen hands and face. Whoa, Blackie, whoa. We made it. But before he can tend to his dogs or bring his numb hands back to life, he needs to get the package inside safely. If the serum freezes, it could be rendered useless. Hey, I've got the serum. Open up. Open Foreign.
- [03:40]
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- [05:25]
Mike Corey
From Wondery I'm Mike Corey and this is against the OD in January 1925, a highly contagious bacterial disease called diphtheria hit the remote town of Nome, Alaska. At the time, diphtheria was especially deadly to children. By January 28, four children had died and dozens more had become infected. The only way to prevent a full blown epidemic was with an antitoxin serum. But the medicine was hundreds of miles away in Anchorage. With Nome unreachable by ship and transportation. By plane too risky. The governor ordered a relay of dog sled teams to carry the serum along the territory's east west mail trail. A string of mushers would take turns carrying the serum night and day halfway to Nome. Then, Alaska's best known musher, Leonard Seppala, would meet the relay team at the halfway point and make a 300 mile sprint back to Nome. This is episode two the Ice Factory. Edgar Collins shuffles a deck of cards as he sits by the fire inside the roadhouse in Tolovana. He's playing cards with a telegraph operator from the nearby Signal Corps office. While he waits for his wet gloves to dry by the wood stove, he's startled by someone pounding on the door. Hey, I've got the serum. Open up. Open up. Callens runs to the door and flings it open. He sees Wild Bill Shannon on the stoop, his face blackened by frostbite. Collins pulls him inside. Bill man, you look like you've had a rough night. I can't seem to get warm. Here, take the serum. Yeah, thanks. Now get in here fast. Collins wraps a blanket around Shannon and leads him to the stove, then places the package of serum close to the glowing hot coals. Shannon shakes his head. No, not too close. We don't want it to heat up too quickly. Otherwise the the glass vials, they might crack. Shannon warms his hands over the stove, then sits back onto a pile of blankets. Callens watches his friend's eyes begin to close as he drifts off. Callens is a 21 year old musher with the company that delivers mail across Alaska. The half Athabaskan, half Newfoundlander was recruited to join the relay and carry the serum more than 30 miles west to the next stop. Callan sits by Shannon while he sleeps, waiting for the serum to warm up. When the package is no longer cold to the touch, the Callens picks it up and heads for the roadhouse door. Outside, his sled is rigged. His dogs are ready. It's around 11 in the morning on January 28th and he hopes to reach the next musher in Manly Hot Springs by nightfall. Leonard Seppala stops his dog sled team beside a sod igloo in the small village of Galavin. It belongs to a native Alaskan family he knows, and he's planning to ask them for help. It's January 29th. Seppala left Nome two days ago, heading east to retrieve the diphtheria serum that's coming his way. Hey, Victor, you in there? Victor ducks out through the igloo's low entrance and smiles broadly when he sees his friend. He's an Inuit Alaskan, and a teacher at a local school for native children. Seppala's dogs recognize Victor, who takes his time petting each of them. Hey, Sepp. It's good to see you. What brings you to our little village? And how are these beautiful pups of yours? I thought you'd know. I'm on my way to get medicine for Nome. It's coming west by dog sled. I was hoping I could sleep here for a few hours before I get back on the trail. Of course, my friend. You're always welcome here. And yes, I have heard about the diphtheria outbreak, but what's this about medicine? Seppala isn't surprised by Victor's confusion. Phone lines from Gnome don't reach this far, so it can take time for news to travel. As they step inside the igloo, he tells Viktor that he's expected in Nulato in a few days. Then he'll turn around and take the serum all the way back to Nome as fast as he can. Victor raises his eyebrows. Nulato de Nome. That's gotta be 300 miles at least. You'll be on the trail for a week. Yeah, I know. But I'm hoping I can make it in just a few days. If I'm going to do that, though, I would need to leave a few dogs here with you. And then on my way back, I can swap some tired dogs for some fresh ones. Is that okay? Yeah, of course. Sure thing. I honestly love your dogs. I'll bring them to the kennel. My pups will be glad to have the company. Thank you. But listen, one more thing. There's a quarantine in Nome to prevent the disease from spreading, you know, and they've ordered all schools and businesses to shut doors. You need to shut down your school, too. Seppala tells Victor that he's headed to Isaac's Point next, on the north shore of Norton Sound. He plans to cross the ice there to save time. But his friend shakes his head. Nah, ice isn't so good right now, you know, Wind is up too. I'd stay on shore. Yeah, I hear you. I'll see what the ice looks like when I get to Isaac's Roadhouse. Then I guess I'll decide whether to cross. Seppala steps outside to feed salmon and seal blubber to his dogs. Ben returns to the igloo and curls up by the fire to get some sleep. As he drifts off, he can't help but think about his eight year old, Sigrid. If the diphtheria outbreak continues to spread, what could this mean for his daughter? Dr. Curtis Welch paces outside the Mayor's office, nervously reviewing the pages of his latest medical report. When the Mayor lets him in, the doctor wastes no time. Hello, sir. Unfortunately, we have confirmed two more full blown cases. You seemed more optimistic yesterday, Doctor. I thought this quarantine was working. Yes, well, so did I, but that turned out to be premature. It's January 29th, and for the past week the residents of Nome have abided by the quarantine restrictions. Welch was relieved that the spread of the disease seemed to have slowed. But then between last night and today, his lead nurse reported that two more children were seriously ill with diphtheria and a third was hovering near death. The Mayor drops into the chair behind his desk. If that child dies, that will make five dead. And how many more active cases again? Currently there are 22 confirmed, but it could be twice that. We've received more calls about children with fevers and sore throats. The kids, you know, they're more vulnerable, but some adults are getting sick too. This seems to be an especially virulent strain of the disease. It might have spread more than we thought before the quarantine went into effect. Then I guess you're saying we should expect more cases in the days ahead. Yes, I'm afraid so, sir. And also probably more deaths. And how much serum do you and your staff have left? We're down to just 21,000 units. Only enough to fully treat one patient. I'll have to spread around smaller doses to see if it helps if we don't get more soon. Welch doesn't finish his thought. The Mayor slams a hand down on his desk and jumps to his feet. Ah, damn it. The Signal Corps operators say the new serum is still 400 miles away. That'll take a week to get here. The governor should have taken my advice from the start and flew it by plane. Welch holds his tongue. He always felt that flying the serum was much too risky, especially with a blizzard on the way. Then again, if the storm does get any worse. The dog sledders might get stranded if the mail trail becomes impassable. Who knows how long it will be before the serum reaches Nome? Edgar Nolner strains to see the riverside trails that whips beneath the runners of his birch wood sled. His seven Malamutes are running at a fast and steady clip across the hard packed snow. But thick fog off the nearby Yukon river has washed over the trail and obscured his view. That's it Dixie. Watch out for overflow Girl. Nolner's lead dog. Dixie knows this trail as well as he does. Dixie has led Nolner's team for seven years and helped him win a few races last year. In conditions like these, he's learned to trust his team even as he flies blind into the cold, dark night. It's late evening, January 29th, two days after the relay started at Nenana. Nine drivers and their teams have carried the Serum 280 miles so far. Nome is still nearly 400 miles off. Nolner, a wiry 20 year old, is assigned to a 42 mile stretch from Whiskey Creek, through his hometown of Galena and onto Bishop Mountain. He's traveled this stretch hundreds of times, but rarely at night and never in weather this cold. No musher would take the chance if it wasn't an emergency. Nolner guesses it's 50 below. But the ice fog makes it feel colder. Even bundled in his squirrelskin parka and reindeer mukluks his mother made, the air burns his face and hands. Naulner feels the team slow as Dixie leads them across the frozen Yukon river to the north shore. Like many of his fellow dog sled mushers, Naulner belongs to the indigenous Athabaskan tribe. His father is a white man who came to Alaska from Missouri 30 years ago during the gold rush. He married an Athabaskan woman and put down roots. Nolner was born outside the village of Galena. In summer he works as a tugboat driver hauling freight barges up and down the river. In winter, he and his dogs deliver mail and supplies to villages along the Yukon. And in his free time, he and his brother fish and hunt for wild geese in caribou. But his dogs are always by his side. They're like family. Nollner guesses it's about midnight when he sees the faint lights of Galena up ahead. He's looking forward to resting a few minutes, drinking some water and warming his hands. But as he reaches the village roadhouse, he sees his brother George standing outside, stamping his feet, he brings the sled to a stop. George, what are you doing out here? I'm here to relieve you. It's too cold. Let me take the last 18 miles. You sure? Don't you have that new bride at home? It was her idea. Besides, I want to help those kids. In nomency. Edgar Nolner steps off the sled and George steps on. He barks out at the dog team. Hike, Dixie, hike. Edgar watches his brother disappear into the ice fog and feels a swell of pride. With any luck, they'll be dancing in the town hall in just a few days. Celebrating the successful delivery of the serum to nomenclature Alaska Governor Scott Bone traces his finger along a map of the Alaska Territory that hangs on the wall of his office. It's the morning of January 30th, two and a half days since the first dog sled team left the train station in Nenana. He wonders where the serum is now and which musher is carrying the package. He also wonders where his aide is. He's been impatiently waiting for him to arrive. Finally, the aide bursts into his office. Sorry, sir. I was gathering the latest telegrams. Ah, let me guess. A few from the Marin Gnome and that newsman in Fairbanks asking me to approve an airplane delivery. Yes. Yeah, that's right. And one from Delegate Sutherland in Washington with the same request. Seems he's already asked the Navy and the US Surgeon General to approve an air rescue plan. I really wish they would just stop trying to undermine my authority. Ever since the diphtheria epidemic broke out last week, Bone has been under intense pressure to authorize a plan to deliver serum to Nome by airplane. He rejected those plans. But now two more batches of antitoxin serum have been found. One in Seattle and one here in the capital of Juneau. William Thompson, editor of a newspaper in Fairbanks, has been especially aggressive in lobbying for an airplane to deliver those vials of serum. Probably because he's part owner of a new airplane company. The governor's aide puts the telegrams on Bones. Desk. Sir, now that two more batches of serum have been found, should we consider letting them attempt to fly at least some of it to Nome? The governor looks back at the map. I still think it's just too risky. Those planes aren't built to fly at this time of year. We need to stick with the dog sled delivery. But I do wonder. What if we sped up the relay somehow? Bone lays out an idea he's been chewing on all day. Currently, the serum is being transported by a relay of mushers. But sometime today or tomorrow, it will reach Leonard's Seppala at roughly the halfway point. From there, Seppala is supposed to carry the serum all the way back to Nomenclature by himself. The governor pokes at the map. Bottom line, we need to speed up the second half of the run. I know Sepelet is one of the best, but what if we recruited more drivers for the western half of the relay? Each driver could travel a shorter distance, say 20 to 30 miles. Yes, that's true. They could travel all day and all night without needing to rest. Their dogs would be fresher. And that does mean faster. Exactly. Let's get a message to Mark Summers and Nome. He can get word out to the western roadhouses to have more drivers ready at each stop. But sir, what about Seppala? He's already on his way and out of telephone range. We'll just have to hope that one of the westbound teams runs into him on the trail. The aide hurries off. Bone hopes he hasn't waited too long to change plans. If details of the new strategy don't reach Seppala, the westbound mushers could miss him and the relay might break down. Especially if the weather does get worse.
- [20:43]
Quince
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- [21:44]
Jesse Weber
In the early hours of December 4, 2024, CEO Brian Thompson stepped out onto the streets of Midtown Manhattan.
- [21:52]
Mike Corey
This assailant pulls out a weapon and starts firing at him.
- [21:55]
Jesse Weber
We're talking about the CEO of the.
- [21:57]
Nick
Biggest private health insurance corporation in the world.
- [22:00]
Jesse Weber
And the suspect he has been identified as.
- [22:02]
Mike Corey
Luigi Nicholas Mangione became one of the.
- [22:05]
Jesse Weber
Most divisive figures in modern criminal history.
- [22:08]
Capital One
I was targeted, premeditated.
- [22:10]
Mike Corey
Admit to sow terror.
- [22:11]
Jesse Weber
I'm Jesse Weber, host of Luigi, produced by Law and Crime and Twist. This is more than a true crime investigation. We explore a uniquely American moment that could change the country forever.
- [22:23]
Quince
He's awoken the people to a true issue. Finally. Maybe this would lead rich and powerful people to acknowledge the barbaric nature of our healthcare system.
- [22:35]
Jesse Weber
Listen to Law and Crime's Luigi exclusively on Wondery Plus. You can join Wondery plus in the Wondery app, Spotify or Apple Podcasts.
- [22:51]
Mike Corey
Charlie Evans sips a mug of coffee beside the wood burning stove. He's sitting inside a log framed roadhouse at Bishop Mountain on the banks of the Yukon River. Through the wind outside, he hears the strangest thing. Someone is singing. He soon recognizes the tune. An Athabascan love song. It's still dark out, so he carries a lantern outside and finds his friend George Nolner tying his dog team to a wooden post. Hey, I thought I heard someone singing off key. Hey. Just thinking about my wife back home in our new cabin. Something to take my mind off the cold. I didn't expect to see you George. I thought Edgar had the serum. I convinced him to let me take over. Did these last 18 miles myself? Evans watches Nolner retrieve the small package tied to the back of the sled. Nolner holds it up. Well, here it is, Charlie. The most precious cargo in all of Alaska. Great. Now come on, let's get you and that package inside. But hey, no more singing. All right. It's 3am on Friday, January 30th. More than two days since the serum began its westward journey. Eleven mushers have carried it 356 miles so far, but Nome is still 318 miles away. Nolner carries the serum inside to warm it up. Evans knows this is the right thing to do, but he is eager to get going. The temperature has been dropping all night and the wind chill is now down to 62 degrees below zero. His destination is Nulato, the halfway point in the relay which is just 30 miles away. An hour later, just past 4am, Evans takes off with a team of nine mixed breed dogs. The 22 year old river guide is glad to be back on the trail which winds along the banks of the Yukon River. Even in the dead of night, he knows every single mile. Having grown up in the nearby village of Koyukuk, he watches the northern lights dance green and gold over his. But soon the gray light of the coming dawn erases them from the sky. At a bend in the river, Evans navigates around a jumble of ice blocks pushed up where ice floes crashed against the steep riverbank. To avoid the jagged ice, he has to steer his team off the trail and into the woods. Whoa now. Whoa. Gee, boys. Gee. He worries that he's slowing down the entire relay, but trust the instincts of his two lead dogs as they guide the sled through the dense forest. Five miles later, he enters the village of Koyukuk and sees his father waiting for him. Son, you should stop and rest. I'd love to, but I can't. I'm afraid if I give these dogs a rest, they'll never get going again. Evans mushes through the village, but on the other side of Koyukuk, he realizes his father was right. His dogs are struggling, especially his two leads. Most mushers prefer huskies or malamutes, which have heavier fur. Evans chose two mixed breed bird dogs for his leads, but now realizes his mistake. With their shorter hair, they're not cut out for such extreme weather. And to his horror, he sees that in a rush to get the dogs harnessed, he forgot to cover their groins with rabbit sticks. Skins. Without the skins, the harness has chafed their exposed legs, which are now swollen and blue. They've got frostbite. He stops and puts the two wounded dogs into the sled. Knowing that they may not survive, he has no choice but to sling the harness over his own shoulder. He'll have to help pull the sled himself and lead his seven remaining dogs along the final miles into mulatto. Gunner Kosson scoops dried salmon meat and seal blubber into dog bowls. He's at the kennel behind the home of his friend and fellow Norwegian, Leonard Seppala. The two men work together as dog drivers for the Hammond Consolidated Goldfield Company, and most of the company's dogs are kept here at Seppala's house. When Seppele left three days ago to pick up the serum, Kossen agreed to take care of his dogs. Come, Fawkes. Come, Balto. Hey, dinner time. It's the morning of January 30th. Kossen has lived here in Nome for 24 years. Like many other Norwegians, he came to Alaska to mine for gold. But when the gold rush petered out, he started working as a dog sled driver. He's now 42 and lives in a small cottage with his wife, Anna. They have no children, but Kassin dotes on the dogs and treats them like family. As Kassen scoops up More food. Seppala's wife, Constance walks up from the family's cottage. Hi, Gunner. You have a phone call. It's Mr. Summers. Thanks, Constance. I'll take it out here in the workshop. Mark Summers is the superintendent of Hammond Consolidated and Kassan's boss. He wraps up the sacks of dog food and carries them into the workshop. Then picks up the phone receiver that dangles from a box on the wall. Hello? Mark? Are you there? Gunner? Gunner? Hello? Can you hear me? Yes, Mark, I'm here. Go ahead. Summers tells Kassin about the new plan proposed by Governor Bone to create a relay on the second half of the serum run. I'd like you to head out to Bluff and wait for the serum there. You'll be the second to last musher in this new relay. Your job will be to deliver the serum to port safety. The mining village of Bluff is more than 50 miles east of Nome. Kostin decides to get started right away. Great, Mark. I'll take a team of 13. Probably using Fox or Balto as my lead. Your choice, Gunner. Also, the storm doesn't seem to be letting up, so be careful out there, okay? I will. What about Sepp? What does he think of this change of plan? Actually, he doesn't know yet. We can't reach him, of course. He's probably near Isaac's Point by now. We just have to hope one of the westbound mushers finds him on the trail. Kassan hangs up and starts preparing his sled, laying out a harness. Then he starts selecting his dog team. Kassin knows Seppala considers Fox one of the best. But Kassin doesn't always agree with Seppala when it comes to assessing the company's dogs. He reaches down to pet the stocky black Siberian called Balto. Seppala named him after an explorer who skied across Greenland in 1888. But Seppala always thought of Balto as a scrub dog, a second rate team dog, and definitely not a leader. But Kassan doesn't see it that way. He's always had a special feeling for the five year old dog. He decides to clip him into the lead position with Fawkes in the swing dog position right behind Balto. He thinks of Balto as a strong workhorse who'll set a steady pace. He knows Seppola would probably scoff at this decision. And as he guides the team onto the eastbound trail, he hopes he won't come to regret putting Balto up front. Leonard Seppala stands on the north shore of Norton Sound near Isaacs point. Studying the sea ice, he has to decide whether to stay on the trail that follows the shoreline or head straight across the frozen sound. It's just before noon on January 31, more than three days since the serum relay began. Seppala still has to travel all the way to Nulato to meet the westbound mushroom, more than 100 miles away. If he crosses the sound, that could save him half a day. But he does know it is a big risk. Alaskans call Norton Sound the ice factory. In winter, its surface freezes and breaks apart and refreezes again over and over. The conditions can change quickly. It's unpredictable and often very dangerous. Winds blowing from the southwest have already pushed ice floes inland. The waterfront trail is covered with jagged mounds and ridges of ice. Seppele thinks the best route is straight across the Sound. He just has to hope the wind doesn't shift, which could break up the ice and push it back out to sea. Seppala and his team have traveled more than 150 miles so far, far into the maw of a swirling storm. Despite his friend Victor's warning not to cross the sound, Seppala feels he has to take the chance. So he urges his lead dog, Togo, forward and guides his team of huskies onto the ice. But halfway into the 20 mile crossing, the wind begins to shift. It suddenly starts blowing from the northeast. Seppala can feel the ice beneath him grinding and moaning. He worries it will start to break. It's happened to him before. Once, while trying to cross the sound, Seppala and his dogs were left stranded on an ice flow for nine hours before they made it back to shore. Ah. Hike. Hike. Togo, let's go. Faster, boy. Faster. We don't want to get stuck here again. Seppala can feel the surge as his dogs lean into their harnesses. The ice beneath them whips past in a blur. And in two hours, he finally reaches the shore. He's relieved as he rejoins the trail and heads toward the next roadhouse. If the wind keeps up, he might not be able to recross the sound. On his return to Nome, the ice could get pushed out to sea. For now, he puts this thought out of his mind. Seppala races on towards the village of Shaktulik. From there, he thinks he can make it to to the relay halfway point in Nulato in two days. He has no idea where the serum is. Now he has to hope the other drivers are still heading his way despite the driving wind and snow. If not for the children of Nome, no musher would be out in weather like this, Henry Ivanov listens for any sounds outside. Outside the walls of the small trading post in Shaktulik, anxiously waiting for the serum to arrive. It's 3pm on January 31st and a musher named Miles Gonagnin is supposed to deliver the serum from Yun Laclit, 40 miles away. But he's late. And Ivanov understands why. The storm outside has become a total whiteout and Gonagnin is covering one of the most difficult parts of the the mail trail. After Charlie Evans successfully delivered the serum to Mulatto, a new set of mushers began relaying it along the second half of the mail trail. They've been making good time despite the storm. At some point they'll hand off the serum to Leonard Seppala so he can turn around and carry it back toward Nome. But there's a problem. No one knows where Seppala is. At the sound of the door, Ivanov leaps to his feet. He finds Gonagnin covered in a layer of frost. Gonagnin calls out in confusion. Henry, what are you doing here? Where's Seppala? I don't know. I haven't seen him. Mark Summers sent me a message and asked me to be here as backup in case Sepp doesn't arrive. Maybe he's still out in the Sound. Ah, I hope not. I'll never find him out there in this weather. Henry Ivanov is a Russian Eskimo seal hunter and a mailboat captain. He considers himself a fair dog sled musher. But unlike other drivers in the relay, mushing isn't his full time job. He's worried about driving his team in such weather. Winds are now gusting at 40 miles an hour and with the windchill the temperature is now at minus 70. But Summers instructions were if the serum got here before Cepola, he shouldn't wait. He should take the serum himself and look to intercept Seppala on the trail. So Ivanov grabs his parka. I guess I better get going then. Ivanov plunges out into the stormy afternoon, hoping he'll find Seppala coming toward him. If he misses Seppala as he heads west, he'll have to take the serum all the way to Galavin, a distance of some 90 miles at first. First Ivanov and his team make good time. But then the dogs see a reindeer just off the trail. They lunge after it, dragging Ivanov's sled into the deep snow. The reindeer gallops off, but now Ivanov's dogs are in a frenzy. He jumps off the sled and tries to separate them, but they're fighting and tearing apart their harnesses. He looks up just in time to see another musher coming toward him from the opposite direction. The dogs look to be Siberian huskies, and Ivanov thinks he recognizes them. Those are Leonard Seppala's dogs. Ivanov waves his arms and shouts, but with the wind and snow, Seppala doesn't see him, even though he's only 20 yards off the trail. In another few seconds, Seppala will be past him, and with his team's harness and tatters, Ivanov will have to return to the roadhouse and repair his ruined rig. The relay will be delayed and it'll be his fault. Ivanov leaves his dogs and runs towards Seppala, waving his arms. Hey Sep. Sep. Over here. The serum. I have the serum.
- [36:54]
Nick
This is Nick and this is Jack. We're best friends, ex finance guys and resident 90s expert. And every week on our podcast, the Best Idea yet, we're bringing you the untold stories behind your fan favorite products. For instance, can you guess which billion dollar fashion company went viral thanks to a rhinestone covered tracksuit? Or which cartoon turned four turtles into a global toy empire by accident? It started as a joke. Last one. Which cold beverage was so hated by Starbucks they actually ended up acquiring it? Spoiler. The Frappuccino. Howard Schultz apparently thought cold coffee was super lame and then he bought it. From Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles to Juicy Couture to the orange mocha Frappuccino, join us every week to learn how your favorite things got made. Follow the best idea yet on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. And you can listen early and ad free right now by joining Wondery. And if this podcast lasts longer than 45 minutes, call your doctor.
- [37:51]
Guy Raz
Hey wowzer fams. It's Guy, Raz and Mindy here. And Mindy, can you believe we have our very own wow in the World stem toys? I know. And look. They even have our faces.
- [38:04]
Mike Corey
Look at little us.
- [38:05]
Guy Raz
Guy Razzie. It's so bonker balls. Aw, you're using my catchphrase. Grown Ups. We are so excited to share our wow in the World Stem Toys with the future scientists in your life. And now you can find our toys at select Walmart locations near you and online@walmart.com from the ultimate high flying air rocket to the light up terrarium, there's something for every Wowzer in your world to play and tinker with. Wow in the World Stem Toys now available at Walmart. That's it. And now let's get back to the wow.
- [38:52]
Mike Corey
Leonard Seppala sees another dog sled Team just off the trail, the dogs are fighting and tearing at their harnesses, and the musher is trying to get them under control. But Seppala can't stop to help. He needs to keep moving. Just as he's about to pass, he sees the other driver running toward him, waving his arms and shouting between the wind and the hood of his parka, muffling the words. Seppala can't quite make out what he's saying. Hey, over here. The serum. I have the serum here. Did he say serum? Then he recognizes the musher. It's Henry Ivanov. Seppala knows the mailboat captain and his family, but they live on the other side of Norton Sound. What's Henry doing over here? Whoa, Togo. Whoa. Seppala gets his team turned around and heads back toward Ivanov, who's standing in the trail holding a package. Oh, Sep. Thank God you came back. I thought you. I thought you were gone. Henry, Is that you? What are you doing out here? What's going on? Ivanov tells Seppala about the changes of plans that the governor ordered. It was the shorter relay legs. Then he hands over the serum. Here, take it back to Galavan. Charlie Olsen should be waiting for you there. And he'll take it the next leg. You don't have to do this all on your own, Sepp. And this way we might even be able to get the serum to Gnome in just two days, maybe even less. Seppala agrees that it's a good plan. In these blizzard conditions, there's no way his team could make it back to Gnome at full speed. Even picking up the fresh dogs he left along the way wouldn't really help him much. A relay will be much faster. But now he's the next leg of that relay and there's no time to waste. He's got to get back to the north side of Norton Sound and retrace his steps. Night is falling and the storm is getting worse. Seppala has to decide once again whether to take the safer route along the shore, which could take an extra day, or take a chance and cross the frozen sound. But this time in the dark, with a wind chill of 85 below, Nurse Emily Morgan sits in the break room at Maynard Columbus Hospital in downtown Nome. She flips through the January 31 edition of the town newspaper, the Gnome Nugget, but then tosses it aside. Clutching a warm cup of coffee in her hands, she looks out the window, up at the eight floor foot electric cross that glows above St. Joseph's Church. The past few days have been exhausting. She's been Traveling to and from Sandspit and the other neighborhoods to check in on sick children. Now she's back at the hospital, halfway through another long day of making rounds. She's trying to enjoy a few minutes of quiet before heading back into the late afternoon cold. She takes one last sip of coffee, grabs her coat from a hook by the door and heads outside. Over the past 10 days, Morgan and the other nurses have been helping Dr. Welch make house calls to families that have been exposed to diphtheria. They slowly doled out their limited supply of six year old serum, a few thousand units here and there, hoping it might keep the symptoms in check until the new supply arrives. The death toll stands at five, but three more children have fallen ill and 30 children and adults are showing symptoms. Just as she's thinking about her boss, Morgan sees the outline of a slight figure walking down Front street toward her. She immediately recognizes Dr. Welch. Hey, doctor. Out for a stroll? If only. No, I just came back from visiting some patients. And you? I'm heading back to check on some families in Sandspit. I think I'll start with the Stanleys, see how young Mary and Dora are doing. Okay. Well, let's meet when you get back. We'll draft a report for the mayor and the Board of Health. Yesterday, Morgan and Welch informed the town elders that at least 80 people have come in contact with sick patients and are at risk, but they know it could be at least twice that number. The medical staff are washing their hands frequently, but she knows that they're all at risk, too. Morgan is dreading writing today's report. It will include an update that they've used up the last drops of the serum. She gives Welch a joking salute and continues walking towards Sandspit. Well, sir, see you in a few hours. Morgan served in the Great War and is cool under pressure. She came to Alaska a year ago to work at a Methodist mission house in the Aleutian Islands. Then she transferred to Nome last fall. The family she's been visiting know about the serum relay, now in its fourth day. But no one knows exactly when the serum will arrive, and the signs aren't promising. The storm that's pushing its way southwest has already shut down mail service in Fairbanks and other towns to the east. If the bad weather continues, Morgan wonders if the mushers will be able to get through to Nome at all. As she leaves the empty streets of downtown Nome and continues west to Sandspit, she thinks about that morning's newspaper. She can still see the reporter's words. The situation is Critical there is nothing left to stop the ravages of the disease. Above the story was a headline that summed up the all hope rests on dogs. Leonard Seppele is racing north along the eastern shore of Norton Sound. It's late evening on January 31st first, and he's got 43 miles to retrace his path and reach the roadhouse at Isaac's Point on the north shore of the Sound. He plans to take a short rest there, warm up the serum and feed his dogs. They've gone all day without food. Then he'll continue another 50 miles to reach Galavin, where he'll hand off the serum to Charlie Olson. If he can keep his pace and battle through the storm, he thinks he and the next few drivers might be able to get the serum to Nome in less than two days. But the ice on the sound looks very different from how it did earlier today. Gale force winds are now pummeling the ice from the northeast. He can tell they're beginning to push the ice out to sea. He pulls the snow brake to slow the team. Whoa, Toggo, whoa. If he gets off the ice and stays on the trail that hugs the shoreline, he won't reach Isaac's Point until tomorrow. But if he makes another fast dash across the stretch of ice, he can cover the 23 miles in just a few hours. What do you think, Togo? Yes or no? His lead dog tugs against the harness, eager to get going. Togo seems to have a sixth sense for the ice. If Togo wants to cross, Seppala will trust him. Okay, Togo, you know best, boy. Hike. Hike. It's pitch black as they begin to cross. Seppala is relying entirely on Togo's sense of smell and sight. The wind is deafening, and Seppala knows Togo can't even hear his commands. But the dog seems unfazed by the storm, which comforts Seppala. He knows Togo wouldn't lead them into danger. But suddenly the ice begins popping and cracking all around him. It's the moment he feared. The gale force winds from the northeast are finally breaking the solid ice into jagged chunks and flows. Cracks and holes begin to appear all around him, and Togo leads the team in a series of sharp maneuvers. Left, then right. G Togo. Gee. Seppala tries to command Togo to turn toward the shore, but the dog can't hear him. Water spurts through weak spots in the ice as Togo weaves through the crumbling surface. They have to get back to shore soon. Otherwise there's a strong chance they could fall through the ice or get blown out to sea. If you like.
- [47:42]
Quince
Against the odds.
- [47:42]
Mike Corey
You can binge all episodes early and ad free right now by joining Wondery in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Prime members can listen ad free on Amazon Music. And before you go, tell us about.
- [47:53]
Quince
Yourself by filling out a short survey@wondery.com.
- [47:57]
Mike Corey
Survey this is the second episode of our three part series Gnome Serum Run Race Against Death. A quick note about our scenes. In most cases we can't exactly know what was said, but everything is based on historical research. If you'd like to learn more about this event, we recommend the book the Cruelest Miles by Gay Salisbury and Lainey Salisbury and the Race to Nome by Kenneth Ungerman. I'm your host Mike Corey. Neil Thompson wrote this episode. Sound design by OTT House Audio Audio engineer is Sergio Enriquez. Original theme music by Scott Velasquez and 2K for Freeze N Sync Fact checking by Alyssa Jung Perry Produced by Emily Frost Managing producer is Desi Blaylock Senior managing Producer is Callum Plews Senior producer is Andy Herman. Executive producers are Jenny Lauer, Beckman, Stephanie Jens and Marshall Louie for Wondery.
- [49:07]
JR Martinez
The Medal of Honor is the highest military decoration in the United States. Recipients have done the improbable, showing immense bravery and sacrifice in the name of something much bigger than themselves.
- [49:18]
Mike Corey
This medal is for the men who went down that day. It's for the families of those who.
- [49:24]
JR Martinez
Didn'T make I'm JR Martinez. I'm a US army veteran myself and I'm honored to tell you the stories of these heroes on the new season of Medal of Stories of Courage from Pushkin Industries and I Heart podcast. From Bud Day, who survived more than five years in the Vietnamese prison, to Alvin York, the most famous soldier of World War I, these are stories about people who have disappeared, distinguish themselves by acts of valor, going above and beyond the call of duty. You'll hear about what they did, what it meant, and what their stories tell us about the nature of courage and sacrifice. Listen to Medal of Honor wherever you get your podcast.