KIMO Channel 13 lacks Iditarod etiquette

Beyond the frame

I spent 10 days listening to people from all walks of life complimenting Alaskans for their hospitality on the Iditarod. I listened to people who admired how well mushers and veterinarians worked well together on the trail for a common end. I listened to Outside tourists and volunteers discuss the pleasant demeanor of village residents at checkpoints along the trail.

The Alaskan spirit was alive. It was too bad one Anchorage television station didn't share that same sentiment.

There is a hierarchy of media members at Nome's Iditarod finish line.

The moguls with the most money are at the top of the food chain and the rest of us are fed the scraps.

KIMO Channel 13 is one of those fortunate media groups that enjoyed exclusive live coverage for those few special moments after Doug Swingley crossed the finish line as this year's winner of the Iditarod.

The Iditarod Trail Committee (ITC) gives Channel 13 employees big yellow badges that allow them special access to the finish line area because they are sponsors who have paid the ITC lots of money. The rest of us media folks are issued the more ordinary white badges, giving us front row access to the finish from a carefully orchestrated distance.

I don't like the practice of giving one media organization special access over another, but I understand it. The ITC receives financial benefit from the sponsorship of the companies which contribute to their day-to-day operations, but there should be more courtesy for the rest of us at the finish line.

Newspaper reporters and the other Anchorage television stations were allowed to maneuver under the arch when ITC security said it was OK. We remained patient for 45 minutes, and eventually, it became our turn to do our jobs and execute our own interviewing processes. This is the way it has always been.

Theoretically, after KIMO television finished choreographing its live interview with Swingley and ITC sponsors, access to the winning musher should have become available for the rest of us.

But when KIMO employees were done doing their business — a live broadcast and a music-backed rebroadcast — they left their musical rap noise blaring through the megaphones as if they were working a rock concert. And when the music ran out, they left an obnoxious buzzing sound reverberating down Front Street, forcing the remaining interviewers to invade Swingley's personal space just to hear him.

If you were close to the finish line, the noise was unbearable.

At first I thought it was a joke, but leaving the megaphones on at full blast was downright rude. Afterward, my ears rang for a day.

Listening to Swingley under the arches was impossible for Channel 2 and Channel 11 interviewers, newspaper reporters, and anyone else wanting to jot down a few notes. Frustrated print journalists walked away with blank pages on their notepads and cameramen shook their heads in disbelief at KIMO's apparent attempt to frustrate all other media who were trying to complete their jobs.

One Swiss journalist covering the Iditarod for a European magazine said the Iditarod finish was a waste of his time.

I understand the competitive nature of our local broadcasting companies, but there are more media people involved with the Iditarod than the KIMO television station.

Channel 13 crossed the line when they effectively kept the rest of us from doing our jobs. The station's employees let their competitive nature interfere with the spirit of the Iditarod during those critical moments after Swingley finished the race.

When the ITC creates a long-term relationship with a sponsor, they should make sure their client distributes more courtesy and less noise. I followed Swingley off the finish line and got what I needed to get — it just took much longer.

Who knows what Swingley said under Nome's burled archway.

Next year, I'll happily follow the 2002 Iditarod while mushers are on the trail, and absorb the mystique of the Alaskan spirit. But when I get to Nome I will expect the worst.

I can only hope KIMO won't embarrass us Alaskans again, but maybe I'll bring my own boom box just in case.

Gene Jansen is the Frontiersman sports editor who has photographed the Iditarod for many years. The great majority of people he has been in contact with on the trail have shown an endless supply of kindness.