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A scramble all the way By Natalie Phillips As 34 mushers struggled toward the halfway-point of the first sled dog race to Nome, Joe Redington was in Anchorage, frantically trying to raisethe promised $50,000 purse. He didn't have a dollar. All but two members of his board had seen trouble coming and bailed out. ''They said, 'We don't want anything to do with it. We're out of it. Don't mention my name,''' Redington recalled. ''They were afraid they would beresponsible.'' Nevertheless, the race was on. By the time the first teams crossed the finish line a little more than a week later, Redington had scrounged up all but $3,000. He got that by talkingthe third-place finisher into loaning back to the race half his $6,000 in winnings. In the end, everyone got his prize money. From this hardscrabble, hustling start, the Iditarod has ridden a 25-year financial roller-coaster. It survived mismanagement and boycotts to becomea $3.8 million enterprise, with 10 full-time employees, hundreds of volunteers, tens of thousands of fans and worldwide recognition. But on the eve of that inaugural race, Jim Huntington warned he could find ''no physical evidence'' of a purse and called on mushers to boycott.Huntington told of a similar race in 1941 in which mushers had competed for a $10,000 purse. ''Many of us are still waiting for our money,'' hesaid. Redington planned to run the first race himself, but he withdrew to look for money. With Gleo Huyck and Tom Johnson, his two remaining boardmembers, he pieced together the bulk of the purse with $10,000 from Anchorage real estate developer M.R. ''Muktuk'' Marston, and a one-year,$30,000 loan from Frank Murkowski's Alaska National Bank of the North. Plans for the second race, in 1974, began with how to repay the $60,000 debt left over from the first. Organizers tried to get money from theAnchorage Borough Assembly, which declined, even though Nome had contributed $2,500 and Juneau had ponied up $5,000. El Paso Alaska, anatural gas company, contributed $15,000. The race was on, but with a total purse of just $27,500. In 1975, the Iditarod found its first big sponsor in the Atlantic Richfield Co., which offered to underwrite a $50,000 purse for three years, provideda condition was met.
With the 1976 race just weeks away, Atlantic Richfield pulled out. A company spokesman confirmed that it had received complaints about thetreatment of dogs in the race, but said the company was withdrawing because of a cash shortage. At a board meeting to deal with the crisis, members argued to put off the race for a couple of years until they could find a big sponsor, Redingtonremembered. ''I said, 'Dogs get old. We can't.' The entire board quit on me at 2 a.m.'' Once again, it was up to Redington. He called a friend and said, ''I re-elected myself as chairman.'' The scramble for money was on again. ''Don't make it look impossible,'' he told a reporter. ''It's another wall I'll have to scale.'' By the time mushers reached the finish line in 1976, Redington had raised about $30,000. During the next few years, big sponsors were scarce. Mushers complained that national sponsors had been chased off by Lower 48 chapters of theHumane Society. ''They are well intended but they know nothing about the tremendous desire to pull, the love of the dog for the trail,'' musher Rod Perry explainedin 1978. Race organizers hoped local and state governments would chip in. The Alaska Legislature did, starting with a $20,000 appropriation in 1979. In the early 1980s, fans saw the first live broadcast from the finish. A national television network paid $10,000 for exclusive broadcast rights. Thecity of Anchorage contributed $25,000. The race budget ballooned to $400,000, which included two full-time employees. The first $100,000 purse came in 1981, the 9th Iditarod. First place paid $24,000. ''We felt like the prize purse should be the largest of any sled dog race,'' said Greg Bill, who started as a race volunteer in 1974 and is nowdevelopment director. It was too much, too fast for the race's founding father. In the spring of 1982, Redington announced he would quit. He complained that theorganization was squandering money, and becoming too commercialized and secretive. ''We're not even supposed to tell our wives what goes on,'' Redington complained. ''I don't think that is necessary.'' He called for an investigation. An internal audit found that the only missing money was $5,000 in silver ingots stolen from race headquarters. Redington was persuaded to stay. In 1984, the race start was moved from the Tudor Track to downtown Anchorage in hopes of drawing more sponsor interest. The 1985 race was magic. Libby Riddles became the first woman to win. First-place paid a record $50,000. A national television audiencewatched it all. Recognition of the race by Outside companies increased tenfold. Sponsors clamored to be the official Iditarod dog food, the official clothing, theofficial vehicle. Revenues topped $800,000. The national networks bid for broadcast rights, which went for as much as $40,000. Big prize money and sponsorships gave birth to professional, full-time mushers, the most competitive of whom could hope to earn $50,000 incash, a new truck and sponsorships worth as much as $100,000. But despite its apparent success, the race had a dark secret: It was still operating in the red. The secret came out when, in 1987, Susan Butcher's $50,000, first-place finisher's check bounced. An emergency audit revealed the organizationwas nearly $1 million in debt. The president and executive director were dismissed. It took until the early 1990s to get the Iditarod out of the hole. The attention brought to the race in the late 1980s paid off with more than $1.5 million in revenues, according to tax returns. The peak was 1992,said Stan Hooley, the race's executive director since 1993. But just as the race was getting into the black, the Humane Society of the United States and other animal rights groups appeared again. Somecalled for nationwide boycotts of the race's biggest sponsors. Between 1993 and 1995, the race lost its main supporters, including Iams Pet Foods and The Timberland Co. National television networks lostinterest in bidding for broadcast rights. The race paid a film crew to cover it. Jay Steere, a spokesman for Timberland Co., said, ''The Humane Society involvement was honestly not the main reason we pulled out of the race.''The outdoor clothing company benefited tremendously from its eight years sponsoring the race, he said. But when race organizers decided tofocus on publicizing the race in Alaska and not Outside, the New Hampshire-based firm realized it would no longer reap the same coast-to-coastexposure. Race officials turned to Alaskans and Alaska businesses for support. Plans were made to increase Iditarod gift shop sales and promote amembership program. National Bank of Alaska, a long-time sponsor, stuck with the race. Alaska Dodge Dealers and GCI Inc. stepped forward. ''Alaskan sponsors are closer to the issues here. They understand the race,'' Bill said. ''They really rallied around us.'' Chuck Talsky, a spokesman for the Alaska Dodge Dealers, said the Dodge Trucks-Chrysler Motors Corp. didn't withdraw its support because ofpressure from animal rights groups. ''Being connected to the Iditarod wasn't selling trucks for them nationally,'' Talsky said. ''(The race) doesn'thave the power it once had when it was on Wide World of Sports.'' But Dodge sponsorship in Alaska does pay, he said. ''At Anchorage Chrysler Dodge, the largest month they have every year is March.''The race has operated in the black since 1995, Hooley said. Its 1997 budget is $3.8 million, most which will come from sponsors, raffles and arace lottery. © Copyright 1997 Anchorage Daily News -- All Rights Reserved -- This article appeared originally in Iditarod 25: Tales from the Last Great Race, published as a special section to the Anchorage Daily News on February 23, 1997. Previous Story
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