One More For The Road

[{"type":"text","text":"It is advisable NOT to go 80mph through a car wash..."}]

One more for 5 4 23

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<title>One More For The Road: Thursday, May 4, 2023 | Cowboy State Daily</title>

It is advisable NOT to go 80mph through a car wash....

One More For The Road: Thursday, May 4, 2023

 It is advisable NOT to go 80mph through a car wash...

Bill Sniffin

Wyoming Life

Around Wyoming

ARLINGTON, Texas – There are not many Sunday afternoons when Wyoming feels like the center of the baseball universe.

Being down here in the big, air-conditioned comfort of the Texas Rangers’ ballpark on Sunday, it sure did.

I am writing after attending a big-league baseball game in Arlington, between Dallas and Fort Worth.

And if you are from Cheyenne, or anywhere in Wyoming for that matter, you would have been proud. It was fun wearing my gold Wyoming Cowboy hat to help celebrate our home-grown hero.

The Rangers celebrated their right fielder with a full-blown promotion with bobblehead dolls, a pregame ceremony, and a nod to a past that feels about as Wyoming as it gets.

The bobbleheads showed Nimmo not just as a ballplayer, but as a bull rider. That’s right. Before he was chasing down fly balls in right field, Nimmo perhaps dreamed of riding bulls.

That little detail tells you just about everything you need to know about the kid.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"First, Bull Riding"}]

He grew up in Cheyenne, where rodeo isn’t a hobby, it’s a way of life.

Like a lot of Wyoming boys, Nimmo probably spent his early years thinking about chutes and corrals, dreaming maybe someday he would also make his name at Cheyenne Frontier Days instead of a Major League ballpark.

He has said in prior interviews that his dream as a kid was to be a professional bull rider.

But along the way, baseball won out — and thank goodness for that, especially if you were in the stands here on Sunday.

The Rangers even had a rodeo clown walking around the stadium celebrating Brandon, rodeo, and Wyoming.

The Rangers honored Nimmo in a way that had to tug at his heart.

They brought his 90-year-old grandfather, Darrel Nimmo, out to throw the ceremonial first pitch. It was a moment that felt genuine and grounded, the kind of thing that cuts through all the noise of modern sports.

You could almost see the story in that one toss, from a Wyoming upbringing to the big leagues in Texas.

Nimmo has become, quietly but surely, Wyoming’s most prominent current Major League Baseball player.

That’s no small thing for a state that doesn’t exactly churn out big leaguers.

When one of ours makes it, we tend to follow closely. And when one of ours thrives, we take a little ownership in that success.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"Winning Play"}]

On this day, Nimmo gave folks plenty to cheer about.

Batting in the lineup and patrolling right field, he looked right at home.

He smacked a double, the kind of clean, confident swing that shows why the Rangers believe in him.

Out in the field, he made a couple of outstanding defensive plays, tracking balls, covering ground, doing the little things that don’t always make highlights but win ballgames.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"And win they did."}]

The Rangers rolled to a 10-0 victory over Cleveland, and while it was a total team effort, Nimmo was right in the middle of it.

It is not hard to see why the Rangers have embraced him. He plays the game the right way, no flash for the sake of flash. Just solid, dependable baseball.

There is a workmanlike quality to him that feels very Wyoming.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"He Earned It"}]

You get the sense he would be just as comfortable fixing fence or loading hay as he is standing in the batter’s box in front of 34,851 people.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"That background matters."}]

Nimmo’s journey was not the fast track. Although by Wyoming standards he was a standout, he was not a can’t-miss, five-star phenom who had the baseball world at his feet from Day One.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"He had to earn it."}]

From East High School in Cheyenne, then grinding his way through the minor leagues, he built his career the hard way.

 overall by the New York Mets in 2011, which was highest in Cowboy State history. Now 33, he was called up to the big in 2016 and played 10 years with the Mets before joining the Rangers this season.

His parents, Ron and Patti Nimmo of Cheyenne, always believed in Brandon.

They even built a heated and insulated indoor batting cage in their barn for him to practice hitting during those long Wyoming winters.

Those who watched him early remember a kid who competed in everything he did. Baseball or whatever was in front of him, he was all in. That kind of mindset doesn’t go away. It just gets refined.

Now here he is, wearing a Rangers uniform and getting his own bobblehead night.

The scene at the ballpark had a little bit of everything.

It was festive and loud, with kids clutching their Nimmo bobbleheads like treasures. The food was good, the crowd was lively, and there was that sense you get on a perfect baseball day when everything just clicks.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"Not everything, of course."}]

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"Rangers Crowd Was Excited"}]

At one point, a foul ball found its way into the stands a few rows below us and struck a young fan.

It looked serious, maybe even a broken arm, as attendants quickly moved in and escorted the child out. It was a sobering reminder that even on a day of celebration, the game can turn in an instant.

But the crowd recovered and the energy returned. This day still belonged to Nimmo.

For fans back in Wyoming, this is the kind of story you hold onto. A kid from Cheyenne who once may have dreamed of riding bulls now making a name for himself in Major League Baseball.

His bobblehead doll bridged two worlds: rodeo and baseball, small-town roots and big-league lights.

And he hasn’t forgotten where he came from.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"That might be the most important part."}]

In an era where athletes can sometimes feel distant, Nimmo still carries Wyoming with him. You can see it in the way he plays, in the way he handles himself, and in moments like today when his family is front and center.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"Grandpa Threw Out First Pitch"}]

His grandpa throwing out that first pitch wasn’t just a ceremonial act. It was a symbol of family, of roots, and of the long road from Cheyenne to Arlington.

If you were sitting here on this night, you would have felt it. And if you are reading this back home in Wyoming, you should feel it too.

Because Brandon Nimmo isn’t just playing for the Texas Rangers, he’s playing for all of Wyoming.

Bill Sniffin can be reached at: Bill@CowboyStateDaily.com

Brandon Nimmo Getty Images 2280365562 6 8 26

<title>Texas Rangers Salute Wyoming’s Brandon Nimmo With His Own Bobblehead Night | Cowboy State Daily</title>

Wyoming's own Brandon Nimmo was honored by the Texas Rangers on Sunday with his own bobblehead night. Brandon's 90-year-old grandpa threw out the first pitch. "If you're from Wyoming, you would have been proud," writes Bill Sniffin, who attended the game.

Texas Rangers Salute Wyoming’s Brandon Nimmo With His Own Bobblehead Night

Kolby fedore

Kolby Fedore

Crime & Courts

After years of sniffing out drugs, catching bad guys and riding shotgun on some of Wyoming's busiest drug-trafficking corridors, Carbon County Sheriff’s Office K-9 Mako is hanging up the leash.

The Belgian Malinois spent the past three years helping deputies patrol Interstate 80, intercepting narcotics moving through southern Wyoming and chasing suspects.

For police dogs, however, retirement isn't always a straightforward decision.

"These dogs will work as long as you ask them to work," Mills Police Officer Justin Buchholz said. "They are such a vital resource to the community because there's things that dogs can do that human officers can't."

[{"type":"text","text":"That devotion to the job is exactly what makes retirement so difficult."}]

Unlike human officers, police dogs don't submit retirement paperwork or announce they're ready to slow down. 

Handlers and departments have to decide when age, injuries, illness or declining performance make it time to end a career.

For Mako, Carbon County Sheriff Alex Bakken said the decision came down to a combination of health, quality of life and cost.

The dog is dealing with a severe sinus infection that limits his ability to detect narcotics and an exposed nerve in one of his canine teeth. 

Repairing the damage would cost roughly $10,000, while potentially extending his working career only a few years.

"We don't want to just use them until they break down and then get rid of them," Bakken said.

There also are financial and time investments that go into training K-9 officers.

“The costs can vary wildly,” said Bakken. “For just the dog without any base training, you can expect roughly $2,500 to $5,000. That’s on the low end.”

A dog with base training can cost upward of $20,000 “ballpark,” he added.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Built To Work"}]

Dual-certified dogs like Makko are trained in narcotics detection and bite apprehension, meaning they can both locate illegal drugs and physically assist deputies in taking suspects into custody.

The work is demanding. Training involves repeated jumping, biting, tracking and apprehension exercises designed to keep dogs sharp when real-world situations arise.

Buchholz said those physical demands are one reason retirement often comes earlier for dual-purpose dogs than many people realize.

"It is a long career, especially for a dual-purpose dog, because their training is super intense," he said while discussing retired Mills Police K-9 Archer, who worked nearly nine years before leaving service.

"It's just like any professional athlete,” Buchholz said. "The harder your training routine, the more wear and tear you put on your joints."

Handler Kate Acord acquired the dog when he was about 2 years old and spent years working patrol, narcotics detection, tracking and evidence recovery. 

Archer could locate suspects hiding after fleeing police, find missing people and even search for lost evidence like firearms tossed into fields.

Though commonly called a dual-purpose dog, Buchholz said Archer's skill set extended far beyond two specialties.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Knowing When It's Time"}]

[{"type":"text","text":"There is no universal retirement age."}]

Bakken said departments often see dual-purpose dogs retire around 8 to 10 years old; Buchholz estimated many agencies buy dogs expecting roughly five or six years of active street work.

[{"type":"text","text":"Ultimately, \"it depends on the dog,\" said the Carbon County sheriff."}]

Handlers monitor joint health, arthritis, illnesses, injuries, and overall enthusiasm for the work.

"We're watching for medical conditions," Buchholz said. "Anything that's physically affecting their ability to do the job."

[{"type":"text","text":"The attitude of the dogs also matters."}]

"They love to work," Buchholz said. "That's their whole purpose in life."

A dog that suddenly loses enthusiasm for training or deployments can be showing signs that retirement should at least be considered.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Life After Patrol"}]

For many police dogs, retirement doesn't mean saying goodbye to the person they worked beside every day.

In Carbon County, retiring K-9s stay with their handlers through a county-approved purchase process.

[{"type":"text","text":"Mills operates similarly."}]

When Archer retired in 2025, Acord purchased him from the city for $1 and he spent the remainder of his life with her family. Archer died earlier this year.

[{"type":"text","text":"Buchholz said retirement changes a dog's routine, but not its drive."}]

[{"type":"text","text":"\"I don't think that you ever really become just a house dog,\" he said."}]

That's why the decision can be so difficult. The dog would likely keep going.

[{"type":"text","text":"The handler has to decide when it's time to stop asking."}]

[{"type":"text","text":"For Mako, that time has arrived."}]

The next chapter won't include narcotics searches, traffic stops or bite sleeves. Instead, he'll spend it with the handler who spent years working beside him — a retirement well earned.

When to retire a K 9 1 6 7 26

<title>A Police K-9’s Career Is Less Than 10 Years, But They’d Work Forever If You Let Them | Cowboy State Daily</title>

A trained Wyoming K-9 can cost upward of $20,000 for a career that will last less than 10 years but police say they would work forever if they could.  "They love to work. That's their whole purpose in life," Mills police officer Justin Buchholz said.

A Police K-9’s Career Is Less Than 10 Years, But They’d Work Forever If You Let Them

Headshot of Cowboy State Daily reporter, Jackie Dorothy.

Jackie Dorothy

When former Fremont County coroner Ed McAuslan arrived in Riverton, Wyoming, as a young police officer in January 1973, the town was rougher than it is now.

“When I first came here, it was a little more wild,” McAuslan said. “There were bombings and just all kinds of things went on back then.”

McAuslan said that a bomb had been placed under the patrol car of Undersheriff Duel Price. The car was parked in his driveway at Price’s home when the explosion rocked the neighborhood. 

No one was hurt, but McAuslan said that it was incidents like the bombing were the on-the-job training he and other rookie cops received. 

There was no police academy in the 1970s and McAuslan learned the intricacies of his job on the streets of Riverton. 

Much of the town's crime centered around the numerous bars in Riverton. McAuslan said that just at the intersection of Third and Main streets there were three bars on the street corners.

McAuslan had gotten into law enforcement by chance. 

In 1962, he had joined the military and spent his tour of duty at Vandenburg Air Force Base in California during the early days of missiles. 

He said that the base test-fired missiles and for the next four years, he was a motion picture lab technician working with film of the missile launches, mostly to the South Pacific.

He left in 1966 and returned home to Wyoming where he earned a Bachelor of Science degree in Wildlife Management. After graduating, McAuslan was unable to find work in his chosen field. 

“I was married with a young son to support,” McAuslan said. “There were only two openings with Wyoming Game and Fish and 75 applicants.”

The chief of Police in Glenrock encouraged him to apply for a job, and in May 1972, McAuslan was employed as a patrol officer. 

He soon transferred to Riverton and hit the streets in January 1973 as a rookie cop, acquiring knowledge as he went.

His first lessons involved learning the city laws and statutes.

“Our job was to patrol and try to keep the crime down,” McAuslan said. “We also had the responsibility of working traffic and doing accident investigations. We covered the whole aspect of it.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Investigator And Coroner "}]

McAuslan was a patrol officer for only 10 months before being promoted into investigations. 

It was there that the rookie learned how to investigate major crimes like burglaries and homicides. He was no longer a traffic cop, but it also meant long hours since McAuslan was always on call. 

His duties increased when, in 1975, Fremont County Coroner Larry Lee asked Police Chief Dennis Horyza if McAuslan could assist with death investigations. 

It was approved. The same year, McAuslan also became an EMT and worked with the Fremont County Ambulance until 1990.

“For a long time, the coroners of the state were just funeral directors,” McAuslan said. “But things got to the point where they did more investigations.”

Lee was a funeral director and fire chief when he asked McAuslan to help him with death investigations. Their jurisdiction covered all of Fremont County and the Wind River Reservation. 

McAuslan worked in law enforcement and in the coroner’s office for the next 24 years. 

When Lee retired in 1998, McAuslan was elected to the office in Lee’s place in 1999 and retired from the Riverton Police Department. 

McAuslan became a coroner full-time and held the post until his own retirement in 2014. 

“Working with families during a death, whether it is natural, accidental or a homicide, is the most difficult part,” McAuslan said.“My job was to determine the cause and manner of death, and to assist families however I could. Having compassion is the most important thing there is.”

McAuslan said that it was crucial to remember to always have respect for the people no matter how they treat you. 

He related almost being attacked when he brought news of a husband’s death in a car crash to the victim’s wife. She reacted in a hate-filled rage and went after McAuslan. 

McAuslan said that although he was just the messenger, he knew he could become the target of the loved ones' anger and learned not to take it personally. 

That day, he was grateful he had taken a pastor with him who was able to calm the grief-stricken woman while McAuslan tactfully withdrew from her home.  

“If you can't respect the people and what's going on with them, then you need to get another profession,” McAuslan said. “You can't react to how they treat you because it is a very difficult circumstance.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Bridging Cultures"}]

Since McAuslan had jurisdiction over the reservation, he also had to learn to deal respectfully with two different cultures. He worked closely with several tribal members over the years, including Georgianna “Georgie” Crawford and Willie Le Clair.

One example he cited was when they were dealing with a hit-and-run homicide on the reservation and the family was not allowed to enter the scene. 

They asked McAuslan to allow a tribal elder to bless the body, and he was able to convince the FBI and Indian Police that this could be could be done without disturbing the investigation.

“I made a habit of keeping a braid of sweet grass in each vehicle,” McAuslan said. “If the family wanted something like that, we always had it with us.” 

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Preventing Deaths"}]

During McAuslan’s many years as coroner, suicide was a big issue and he became proactive in preventing them, especially with youth.

“Georgie and I spent a lot of time with the kids and we covered the entire county,” McAuslan said. 

He was working for the coroner’s office when in 1985, a rash of suicides by hanging ultimately claimed the lives of 12 young men from the Wind River Indian Reservation, while 88 others fortunately failed in their attempts. 

During this time McAuslan, Crawford and others doubled their efforts to reach the kids and stop the deaths. 

Eventually, the hangings stopped following a Tribal Ceremony, but left behind grieving families.

McAuslan said that another aspect of suicide that is not considered is how no one talked about cleaning the scene following a suicide. This was left to family or friends. 

It broke his heart as he witnessed the additional pain mothers especially were put through.

“At that time, I realized that an issue no one talked about was how messy it was when someone shoots themselves,” McAuslan said. “I was able to talk to some people and get some money to establish the fund to do cleanup so the families didn't have that responsibility.”

McAuslan said that it takes a special person to be willing to clean up a suicide scene and he finally had a young intern, Erin Ivie who took over the job. 

After proving that she had the same compassion as McAuslan, Ivie is currently the Fremont County Coroner. 

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Compassion"}]

McAuslan said that one of the hardest investigations as a coroner was when someone lost a child to SIDS. 

There is usually no explanation for the death and so rather than prevention, he and Crawford set out to give as much support to the grieving families as possible. 

In the early 2000s, their compassionate approach received national attention and they were invited to make a presentation at the National SIDS Conference in Orlando, Florida.

“We would have families who felt ostracized,” McAuslan said. “The only help we could give them was to support them as we did our investigation.”

McAuslan learned to not rush the families and to sit with them as they held their children for the last time. 

“It's not natural for a parent to lose a child,” McAuslan said. 

In dealing with so many deaths over the past decades, McAuslan said that he cannot dwell on the horrors he has witnessed but rather on the people he has helped.

“You can't focus on the deaths or you won't survive,” McAuslan said. “I still remember a few cases, like the couple who murdered their children in 1979 and the suicides in the 1980s, but for the most part, I don’t think about them.” 

In his retirement, McAuslan has turned to photography and taking classes on petroglyphs at Central Wyoming College. 

“It’s important to keep moving forward,” McAuslan said. “To focus on the good.” 

Ed Mc Auslan 2 inset Ed the retired photographer 6 7 26

<title>Wyoming People: Fremont County’s Ed McAuslan Learned To Be A Coroner On The Job | Cowboy State Daily</title>

Ed McAuslan was the longtime Fremont County coroner who learned his trade on the job as a young cop recruited into the office. A rash of 100 attempted suicides by hanging in 1985 — 12 successful — opened his eyes wide to “an issue no one talked about."

Wyoming People: Fremont County’s Ed McAuslan Learned To Be A Coroner On The Job

Bessemer Bend, a true Wyoming ghost town, has been claimed back by nature and alfalfa fields. 

Before its demise, Bessemer was where Wyoming’s oldest cabin was built by desperate fur traders with the Pacific Fur Co. 

Decades later, Bessemer became part of the Oregon, California, Mormon, Pony Express, and Overland trails that all crossed at Red Buttes/Bessemer Bend.

Later, the famous Goose Egg was built on the spot. This extravagant stone mansion is said by some say to have inspired scenes in Owen Wister’s “The Virginian.” 

Today, Bessemer Bend is a broad loop of the North Platte River southwest of Casper that shows no signs of the failed city. 

The landscape is dominated by irrigated fields, ranchland, cottonwoods along the river, and the red hills and buttes that explorers and Oregon Trail emigrants knew as Red Buttes. 

The town of Bessemer, now long gone, had gained a reputation as the “Queen City of the Plains.” Her founders believed that their city would one day be the grandest in Wyoming. 

Their hopes were dashed by a rigged election and the railroad. 

Ultimately, Casper “stole” the honor from them when it became the seat of Natrona County instead and, one by one, the residents of Bessemer hauled their homes over to Casper.  

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"The Fur Traders "}]

Bessemer first appeared in written record in the 1812 diary of fur trader Robert Stuart. 

Stuart had been hired in 1810 by John Jacob Astor to work for the Pacific Fur Co. and was on the company ship, the Tonquin, when he became marooned at Fort Astoria.  

The crew had sailed first to the Falkland Islands and then around Cape Horn and up the western coast of North America, reaching what is now Astoria, Oregon in May 1811. There, they established Fort Astoria.

When the crew sailed farther north, to Vancouver Island, an interaction with Native Americans resulted in many deaths and the destruction of the ship. 

It was left to Stuart and a small group of men to return eastward overland. The party left Astoria on June 29, 1812, bound for St. Louis. With Stuart were Ramsay Crooks, John Day, Benjamin Jones, François LeClerc, Robert McClellan, and André Vallé.

Bessemer Bend, now peaceful ranchland, was once a stop on the Oregon Trail and a bustling city known as the “Queen City of the Plains.” Now it’s a true Wyoming ghost town that disappeared when Casper was picked as the county seat. 

One More For The Road: Thursday, May 4, 2023

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