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| Dan Seavey at the Ceremonial Start of the Iditarod. March 2010. |
Dan Seavey grew up in Minnesota dreaming of the Yukon. He listened to radio serials and made plans with his friends on how they would move up to Alaska and run dogs and pan for gold and do all of the adventures they would listen and read about. Seavey shared those plans in his book The First Great Race Alaska's 1973 Iditarod. However in 1956 Dan fell head over heels in love with the "blond Swedish farm girl from Minnesota" Shirley and they would marry two years later.
Not giving up on his Alaska dream he and Shirley made a pact that as soon as they were able they would head to Alaska to live for a couple of years just to see what it was like. The plan was to return back to the States and settle closer to civilization. Dan entered college soon after their wedding and began his studies to become a teacher.
While Dan studied, their family grew. The couple would have three children, Mitch, Tracie, and Darian. Don't jump ahead because you recognize one of those names, we'll mention that later. And then, in April of 1963 it happened. Dan got the call... well, telegram... he had a teaching job in Seward if he wanted it. They needed to be there by August. They finished the school year (he was teaching by then) packed up the kids and the car and made their way North.
Remember that promise to Shirley that they'd only stay in Alaska a couple of years? That was still the plan, but then in March of 1964 the History buff and his family LIVED history when the little fishing town of Seward was hit (as was much of South Central Alaska) by the "Good Friday Quake". The Earthquake was the second largest quake ever recorded. The 9.2 magnitude shook the state for over five minutes and was felt far down the west coast. On top of the earth shaking Seward violently the town was also innundated by giant Tsunami waves that pummeled their shores and flooded much of the town. Homes and lives were lost.
The Seavey family had been in their new hometown only a few months and it was in many areas completely gone. Dan, along with his coworkers, managed to reopen the school to give families a reason to stay and the children some sort of return to normalcy. Dan and Shirley rolled up their sleeves and went to work restoring their beloved Seward. And then it happened. They were firmly members of Seward, they couldn't leave. That promise of no more than two years was no longer possible. Both Shirley and Dan knew that after what their little town went through they couldn't leave it.
And, so, as many Sewardians fled the town for parts "safer" land became pretty easy to come by (and dirt cheap). Dan and Shirley purchased land just out of town (now in the Exit Glacier road area) and they settled in Seward. Dan would teach in the Seward school as their history teacher (and wrestling coach) for over twenty years. (And, as I found out recently, he taught one of my absolute favorite teachers I ever had... my fifth grade teacher Mr. Daniel! Small world!) Dan and Shirley became not just familiar faces in Seward, they became an important part of the community.
With the purchase of the land and the building of their beautiful home (seriously, it's like a fairytale over there) they also built a small recreational sled dog kennel. Fifth grade Dan Seavey was no doubt bursting at the dream becoming reality (though slightly different from the original plan). He would soon meet more dog men throughout the state through his need to learn more about mushing and how to do it better. He would attend races in Anchorage (there wasn't much really going on on the Kenai Peninsula with mushing in those days race wise). Those races were just an excuse for mushers to get together, talk shop, and brag about their dogs.
Dan would run into this musher named Joe. Joe had an idea. It was a crazy idea, but it was intriguing to Dan. It was a race that would follow this historic gold rush trail leading to the gold mining town of Iditarod. Sound familiar? That guy named Joe was Joe Redington Sr. The one they call "The Father of the Iditarod". That crazy idea was one Joe shared with anyone who would listen. Dan was interested in the adventure, but even more so the history. Dan signed on with getting the race off the ground.
Dan was also one of the first mushers to run the first Iditarod. Dan would ultimately win third place (though he was second into Nome, back in that first race they added up the time and there was no differential, so he was just slightly slower than a team that started after him). Dan would be the only one of the top finishers to not have his monetary award paid out to him. Joe had taken him aside and confessed that the purse that was promised was not fully funded. Dan agreed to "wait" for when the money came in, essentially giving it to Joe as a loan so that Joe could pay the champion. Dan wouldn't get paid back for decades. (He always told that story with a laugh.)
Dan would run the Iditarod the following year and then sporadically after that. Dan used his work with the sled dog race to help establish the Iditarod Historic Trail, protecting thousands of miles of historic gold rush trails. When he would run the Iditarod in his later years it was often - if not exclusively - to celebrate and bring attention to thei history of the trail. He also served for many years on the board of directors of the Iditarod helping shape the race into what it has come to be known.
Dan would watch his eldest son, who helped and encouraged him so much in training for those first Iditarod races, win the Iditarod in 2004. Remember when I said we'd get to Mitch eventually? And in 2012 as Dan was running his final Iditarod, he would have to hear about his grandson Dallas' first win (a win that broke a couple of records). Dan would watch Mitch win two more (2013 and 2017) and would watch Dallas win an historic 6th title (after spending much of the winter running dogs with Dallas).
Okay, time to really get personal.
I met Dan Seavey in 2007 just days into starting my job working for Dallas in Anchorage at the newly created Wildride Sled Dog Show. It was a remake of a tourist show that Dan had created many years prior, only - as Dallas often does - Dallas revamped and improved on the model. Dan introduced himself and as many other Seavey employees over the years can attest to said I could call him Bappa because he was "everyone's grandpa". I felt so welcome in those moments and I always looked forward to when Bappa would be at the show. He instantly became one of my favorite people.
Dan was easy to listen to. He was witty, wise, and warm. I rarely saw him without a smile, and I rarely got away from a conversation without a lecture about drinking soda (or worse that I didn't drink coffee). He had a running joke with my dad after he found out dad drank decaf, Dan suggested that once dad grew up he'd drink real coffee.
I have so many wonderful memories of Dan over the years. I always got a greeting of "Well hello, Toni" when we'd run into each other (often at Iditarod in the hotel lobby while he and my dad were waiting for coffee and... whatever my dad drinks because it wasn't coffee). I had the honor of photographing one of his grandchildren's wedding at his home. I watched him dance with his bride of over fifty years, his eyes danced watching his granddaughter on her wedding day, and how he laughed at all of the great grands and their antics.
It feels so weird to talk about him in the past tense. Some people you just expect to always be there. Dan was a larger than life, legendary figure. Not just in Iditarod, but in Alaska. He is what I picture to be the classic Alaskan sourdough, even though there wasn't much sour about Dan. When I think of Iditarod it's hard not to think of Dan. Yes, others are better known - or more successful - but his legacy is not tied in how many wins he or his family members have. It's in the preservation of the trail and race history. The absolute love for a bygone era of Alaska. When others - including members of his family - were about modernizing the race, Dan held onto what inspired him to come to Alaska in the first place (while also celebrating how far the race has come).
Dan has left a legacy in a family that is successful not just in dog mushing but in many fields. His three children and his countless grandchildren and great grandchildren have all followed their passions, they've adventured, they've inspired. He is a legend, and legends live on through the legacy of those that continue to share their story.
Dan touched so many in his 87 years and I am so fortunate that I am one of them. I will miss hearing his stories, his jokes... I will miss seeing him under the arch in Nome beaming with pride no matter what placement Mitch or Dallas (or Danny or Tyrell or whichever the next Seavey is that takes it on). Mostly I will just miss talking about him in the present. Rest easy, Dan, they've got it from here. On by.
