Legendary explorer dies at 100, leaves behind volumes of adventures.(Norman Vaughan)(Obituary)

Byline: Lew Freedman

My old friend Norman Vaughan died at age 100 on Dec. 23. Those who knew him believed he would live forever, and this was the only time the irrepressible adventurer let us down.

If he had had his way he would have been climbing the 10,300-foot mountain that Admiral Richard Byrd named for him in Antarctica rather than lying in a hospital bed in Anchorage, Alaska.

That was the plan for his 100th birthday. Return to the scene of the triumph and toast a century's worth of blessed adventure. The spirit was willing, but the heart was weak.

No man better lived up to his own motto: Dream big and dare to fail. Whether he was mushing the 1,100-mile Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race, mountain climbing or snowmobiling across Alaska, Vaughan was the ultimate senior citizen, a symbol of all that is possible for those in their 70s, 80s and beyond. Those whom he inspired figured he surely would outlast us all.

No man lived life with such relish, such gusto against the odds of advancing age. Rather than be characterized as a relic of a bygone era, Vaughan, who was born Dec. 19, 1905, imbued those who met him with a why-not enthusiasm for the future.

Vaughan featured a distinctive white beard and he possessed a signature deep voice even in old age. He slowed some in recent years, occasionally forced to rely on a walker or a wheelchair, but his mind remained sharp and his imagination vigorous.

Just before Vaughan turned 89 in 1994 he journeyed to Antarctica to ascend "his" mountain. It was a preposterous task, but with the help of his fourth wife, Carolyn Muegge-Vaughan, world famous mountaineer Vernon Tejas and a team of supporters, he succeeded in touching the sky.

In writing about that trip, I called Vaughan "Alaska's grandpa." And who wouldn't love to have a grandfather who regaled younger generations with such spellbinding first-person stories? What I suspect is that almost from the moment he pulled off the feat, Vaughan schemed to return to the frozen continent.

Certainly he ran his idea past me many times. Vaughan said he never had taken a drink. For his 100th birthday, he said, he wanted to obtain a French champagne sponsor to finance another climb of Mount Vaughan. Then, when he stood on the summit, Vaughan would pop the cork, sip the bubbly, and proclaim, "I waited 100 years for this." Sounded like a capital idea.

When I was moving to Chicago nearly five years ago, I ate a farewell luncheon with Vaughan, Tejas and Bob Ernisse, a musher who nearly died once on the Iditarod Trail but returned another year to finish the race. The threesome shared the middle name of "Inspirational." We took pictures. It is sobering to realize that only two of us still are living. Ernisse, who once was voted Alaska's favorite bartender and supervised Vaughan's favorite haunt, died two years ago of stomach cancer.

One of the topics that day _ and during two visits with Vaughan this year _ was the 100th-birthday climb. I sat in as Tejas and Vaughan discussed a training mission. Alas, the French did not come through, funds were not raised and Vaughan grew frailer.

It was hard to ground Norman Vaughan. He dropped out of Harvard to handle dogs and accompany Byrd to Antarctica in 1928. When the Winter Olympics in Lake Placid allowed dog mushing as a demonstration sport in 1932, Vaughan was a U.S. contestant.

He wrote a skiing guidebook, helped Dr. Wilfred Grenfell use dog teams to bring medicine to rural Canada and, in 1975, raced in his first Iditarod. Although he was well past the age of competitiveness, Vaughan completed the race four times officially. A decorated World War II and Korean War veteran, Vaughan frequently was called "Colonel" in casual conversation.

Later, Vaughan led snowmachine crossings of Alaska, bringing the story of the 1925 diphtheria serum run to native village schoolchildren. He also wrote two books.

Still spry well into his 90s, Vaughan crisscrossed the United States making public appearances. In February 2001 he addressed the Adventurers Club in Chicago and the group displays a commemorative plaque in its dining area citing Vaughan's honorary membership.

In one of my earliest stories for the Tribune on the philosophy of adventure, I quoted Vaughan. He said, "An adventure is what you experience that you do not expect to experience by overcoming problems that come before you." Vaughan got dangerously lost on the Iditarod Trail and the 1994 trip to Antarctica once was postponed. He overcame.

Vaughan turned 100 just a week ago Monday. Two days earlier, friends and family gathered at the hospital for a birthday party. Vaughan took his swig of champagne. Just one.

It is sad to think his marvelous voice is stilled. But it is worthwhile to remember that whenever he entered a room or left it, those in attendance wore a smile on their faces. Of all the things he did, perhaps that was Norman Vaughan's greatest accomplishment

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(c) 2006, Chicago Tribune.

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