You Still Here

[{"type":"text","text":"Filling your tires with your Dad....."}]

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Cowboy State Daily is Wyoming’s largest newspaper with Wyoming’s most experienced journalists. 

<title>You Still Here? Wednesday, January 8, 2025 | Cowboy State Daily</title>

Filling your tires with your Dad....

You Still Here? Wednesday, January 8, 2025

Kerry Drake

Wyoming Life

CHEYENNE — Arden White was a man with a plan. He knew the target of his would-be affection would be headed to her college class.

“I just waited until I saw she was coming around the corner,” he said. “I asked if she’d go out with me. Oddly enough, she said yes.”

“He ambushed me!” recalled his wife, Betty, on the occasion of their 75th wedding anniversary a week ago. 

The party was arranged at their Cheyenne home by their three children, Gary, Sharon and Ann.

They dated for about a year at Colorado Agricultural and Mechanical College, now Colorado State University, in Fort Collins. 

Then Arden made an announcement to his girl and his family. The conflict between the United States and Korea was heating up, and he’d decided to follow some of his friends and join the Navy.

Arden was stationed at Treasure Island, California, a man-made island in the San Francisco Bay. The Navy put him to work as a keypunch operator, using an early data entry system that had people punch holes into cards, encoding information for computers.

It was a specialized clerical job, and virtually assured him that he wouldn’t be reassigned to a battleship. He spent the duration of the war at Treasure Island.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Popping The Question"}]

While home on leave, Arden popped the question: “I think I’m going to be there for a long time, so why don’t we get married?”

“I said, ‘Sure,’” Betty recalled. 

That didn’t sound like the parents who raised her, said Ann, the baby of the family, who was born in 1966. She was preceded by Gary in 1953 and Sharon in 1956.

“I remember them being pretty strict and having everything planned out, and they never wavered,” said Ann. “So for them to be so willy-nilly and spontaneous doesn’t fit with the memories I have of them.”

Guess they must have been in love, as they clearly still are. Their children are happy they put together the party, inviting family and friends to share their special day. Betty had copies of several family histories she’d put together for guests to take home.

Betty and Arden were married in 1951, in her family’s church in Eaton, Colorado. They were both 20, but Arden’s mother had to go to the courthouse and officially give her permission for the marriage to take place. Girls only had to be 19.

“Discrimination!” Betty said, laughing.

Then they moved to Berkeley, California, and he returned to his stint in the Navy. Moving halfway across the country wasn’t something people in her family normally did, but Betty said, “I was kind of the maverick in the family. Everyone else stayed close to home.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Back To School"}]

Arden was supposed to serve for four years, but he had other ideas about his future. 

“I asked for an early release,” he said. “I wanted to finish my bachelors degree back in Colorado, and so did Betty.”

One day his chief walked by and tersely said, “Well, you got it.”

“I said, ‘What did I get?’ and he said, ‘Your early release.’ He was not pleased,” Arden remembered.

But the Whites sure were. Betty earned her bachelor's degree in home economics. Arden graduated too and took some correspondence classes by mail. The G.I. Bill had helped him pay for his education, and he had decided to pursue a master’s degree so he could teach at the high school level. 

The couple and their son Gary moved to Kansas, where Arden got a job teaching at a high school. That’s where Sharon was born. Then the family moved to Greeley, Colorado, where he received his master’s degree in education at Northern Colorado.

“I found out I was doing rather well academically, so I had the idea, ‘Let’s see if they’ll let me apply for a doctorate.’ And they let me do it.”

Arden needed a job and found one teaching at Northern State College in Aberdeen, South Dakota. He liked everything but the cold winters and hot summers. He hated the climate, and so did his family.

Betty was a bit more diplomatic. She didn’t scrunch up her nose at the thought of their two years there. 

“Aberdeen was a lovely place to live,” she said. “But the climate was terrible.”

Then the college’s main building was destroyed by a fire. 

“That was the end of that,” Arden said. 

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"He began looking for another job."}]

One day Arden was at a golf course when a friend told him there was a vacancy at the University of Wyoming in Laramie. 

“Well, that suited me — the location did," he said. “They asked me to come for an interview.”

He had one of his sisters-in-law give him a ride from Aberdeen to Cheyenne, then caught a bus for the trip over the hill to Laramie. After the interview he flew back to South Dakota just in time to make it to a class he was teaching.

At 9 a.m. Monday his phone rang. “They said, ‘Would you take the job for this (amount)?’ and I said, ‘Yes, I’ll take that,’” Arden said. So the family packed up again, but they wouldn’t leave for a long time — 30 years.

While he was at the College of Education, Betty was a stay-at-home mom when their children were young. As they grew older, she took a job working in the UW athletic department ticket office. 

Arden was promoted to the head of the counselor education program. It’s a job he said he enjoyed, especially when he could combine it with his love of fly fishing in the Snowy Range.

“He could go out in the afternoon, catch some trout and be home by dinnertime,” Betty said. 

Arden and his boss referred to their fishing trips as their “department head meeting.”

Betty learned to fish, but said she wasn’t good at it “because I needed help getting the fish off the hook. But I really enjoyed the Snowies.”

By the time Ann came into the picture, her family had a routine of hiking, camping and fishing and she did not get to vote on her participation.

“They took me on one camping trip when I was 3 or 4, and I was such a pain in the ass, I remember someone ended up carrying me because I refused to walk anymore,” Ann said.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"“That was me,” Gary reminded her."}]

“Their idea of camping was you park your car and you hiked with all of your stuff — the tent, the sleeping bags,” Ann continued while her siblings chuckled. “They ate the little powdered food, caught and ate the fish, and I’m not any of that. They still went, but they just shipped me off to my grandparents in Ault for a week.”

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

Despite not sharing her parents’ love of the outdoors, though, she said they were wonderful. 

“Dad always made sure we went to church every Sunday and spent the day together,” Ann said. “They never fought. They never argued. And they never swore. Well, Dad did sometimes when he was golfing.”

Despite their parents’ passion for college, Gary said they didn’t insist that they get degrees. 

“But Dad was always focused on us all having a job,” Gary said. 

He discovered that he loved working in agriculture, and went to work at UW’s greenhouse and planted flowerbeds on campus.

After visiting some friends at CSU, Gary approached his father and asked if he could go to school there.

“He told me as long as I could graduate in four years, he’d help me out,” he recalled. “It took getting some credits in the summer, but I did it.”

Sharon left Laramie when she was 19. She saw someone she liked in a band and told her friends, “I’m going to marry that guy.” 

Sharon went to Cheyenne and it took a week, but she found him. They’ve been married for 49 years.

After Arden retired from UW, he and Betty stayed in Laramie for a few years before moving to Cheyenne. Gary lives in Powell, and Ann moved to Illinois.

The Whites have enjoyed traveling together, with their best memories being Washington, D.C., and New York City. Asked what she saw at the former, Betty said, “Everything. The Smithsonian. The Washington Monument. The White House.”

On two trips to the Big Apple, the couple saw eight plays. The first one was “Cats.”

“There was one I had no idea what was happening,” Betty said. “It was a man on a ship and he was talking loudly and he spit all over himself. That’s what happens when you sit in the front row.

“We don’t like to talk about that,” she added with a wry smile.

Why do they think they’ve been together for so long?

They stared at each other for a minute or so. 

“She’s very accommodating," Arden said. “She was always willing to move wherever we needed to be.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"“He’s very patient,” Betty said."}]

“I can’t explain it. She’s brighter than me,” Arden said, and when she tried to brush off that assessment, her husband simply said, “That’s true.”

“We found out in high school she was going to be the valedictorian — until I showed up,” he added. “Her parents weren’t all that pleased with me.” 

Kerry Drake can be reached at: Kerry.Drake33@gmail.com

75 years of marriage composite 8 15 26

<title>Cheyenne Couple Celebrate 75 Years, Husband Still Amazed Wife Agreed To First Date | Cowboy State Daily</title>

Arden and Betty White of Cheyenne celebrated their 75th anniversary this past week with family and friends. In recalling their first date, Betty said Arden ambushed her. Arden said he was surprised she agreed to go out. "Oddly enough, she said yes.”

Cheyenne Couple Celebrate 75 Years, Husband Still Amazed Wife Agreed To First Date

Headshot of Cowboy State Daily's business and tourism reporter, Renée Jean

Renée Jean

Business & Tourism

Raymond Felix brought a brand-new bike to Sturgis this year. New to him, that is.

“We bought it about two weeks ago,” he told Cowboy State Daily. “I traded my Sporty in. I said, ‘We’re going to Sturgis, so I want a better bike.’”

The bike is a 2017 Softail Slim FLS with 5,000 miles on it, “practically new” for what was Felix’s first trip to Sturgis. He went with his family — his mom and dad, Leon and Alisa, and his girlfriend, Yessenia Marenco. 

The four were among hordes of bikers — literally thousands — riding the Devils Tower loop for a Sturgis Rally tradition called Wyoming Wednesday. 

Sundance’s claim to fame on Wyoming Wednesday is a burnout contest that’s been going on for more than half a century in front of the historic Dime Horseshoe Bar.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"The Legend Of The Burnout"}]

Local legends say the Dime Horseshoe Bar’s burnout actually started inside the establishment, which takes its name from a horseshoe pattern inlaid into the bar top with dimes.

The story goes that a bar patron decided to do a burnout inside the bar and the owner chased him out.

Other riders joined the fun, putting on their own spontaneous burnout event on the street in front of the bar.

It started a tradition that has continued ever since, though these days it’s more of a planned thing, complete with bike mechanics who swap used tires for new, saving the bikers’ good tires for their return trip to either the Sturgis Rally or home. 

The bar has since also built a stage for the bikes, elevating them above the crowd so everyone can see. That also helps keep the smoke over everyone’s heads. 

A set of fans blows the clouds of acrid, billowing smoke away from the bikers. 

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"A Big Father-Son Moment"}]

Felix had a dream for his first Sturgis, and watching the Dime Horseshoe Bar’s Burnout in Sundance was it.

But he didn’t just watch the burnout as he’d planned.

Jess Jones, owner of the Dime Horseshoe Bar along with her husband, Casey, is persuasive that way. 

She kept calling for entries, and Felix’s dad, Leon, kept urging Raymond to enter.

“They talked me into it,” he said. “I was like, ‘All right, let’s do it. I’m down for it.’”

Felix’s parents have been coming to Sturgis — and to Sundance’s burnout — since 2011. But until this year, Raymond couldn’t join them. All four work for the same delivery-driving business, which makes planning time off together tricky.

“It’s hard for all of us to take vacation at the same time,” Leon said. “This is the first year we got to do it.”

A friend showed Leon and Alisa all the cool places to go, including Sundance. 

“We love it,” Alisa said. “It’s amazing. Seriously, every year we look forward to coming.”

For Leon, finally sharing Sundance with his son — and seeing him compete so well in the burnout — was not just a great memory. It is a father-son milestone he cherishes. 

“It’s like a father’s dream to have your kid come ride with you,” he said. 

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Hitting Sixth Gear"}]

Felix had been told he probably wouldn’t be able to cycle his engine past fourth gear. 

But when he hit four without signs of strain, he kicked it up to five and then six. 

Smoke, he explained, is the whole point of a burnout. 

“The bigger the cloud of smoke is, the better,” he said. “So you go through first, second, third. You want to keep the gears shifting. But so it handled six just fine.”

Family and friends replayed the moment he hit sixth gear, and Raymond’s eyes lit up.

“Check this out,” he exclaimed. “The sixth-gear pin! I was in sixth gear!”

That ultimately earned him enough crowd appreciation that he took third place, along with a $250 cash prize. 

First place, and the $750 in prize money, went to Bill Snider, a regular from Michigan who said he will put the money back into his bike.

Snider was in Sundance hanging out with his daughter, Erica Goble, and her fiancé.

Goble drove to Sundance from Colorado to be with her dad, and said she thought the event was “pretty cool.”

Snider told Cowboy State Daily he spends little time at the Sturgis Rally itself, preferring to spend his rally time in tiny Sundance and Hulett in Wyoming.

“We go over there, but we go over there once, buy a T-shirt and leave,” he said.

In Wyoming, he said, he has found people are welcoming and treat you like family — and that’s what keeps him coming back.

Burnout 20260812 165049 8 15 26

<title>Why Sturgis Riders Have Packed Sundance, Wyoming, For 50 Years Of Its Annual Burnout | Cowboy State Daily</title>

Sturgis Motorcycle Rally riders have packed Sundance, Wyoming, for its annual burnout for more than 50 years. Legend has it the burnout started inside the Dime Horseshoe Bar. “The bigger the cloud of smoke is, the better,” says one rider.

Why Sturgis Riders Have Packed Sundance, Wyoming, For 50 Years Of Its Annual Burnout

High on the Medicine Bow-Routt National Forest, a decaying log cabin that once anchored one of Wyoming’s old range-sheep operations was in danger of being lost after the Niland family’s long-held Forest Service arrangement ended.

Instead, the Little Snake River Museum, is working to turn it into a public window into the state’s historic sheep industry, which once moved thousands of animals — and dozens of wagons — through the high country every summer.

Lela Emmons is director of the Little Snake River Museum. The Divide Sheep Camp cabin she is working to save sits on a 40-acre permit area on the Medicine Bow-Routt. 

It served as the summer headquarters for the Divide Sheep Company, a mid-sized sheep operation owned by the Niland family and established in 1909, four years after the Forest Service itself was created. 

Emmons described the arrangement as a “100-year lease” and said the family’s ability to maintain the cabin was tied to continuous operation of the site. 

After Tom Niland’s death, the family was required to decide whether to remove, relocate, or donate the structure to an entity such as the Little Snake River Museum for preservation.

They chose the latter, to keep the cabin’s history intact.

“This is one of the few remaining summer cabins for the sheep industry,” Emmons said. “This infrastructure of corrals and cabins and even the sheepherder art on the trees is all going away. There will be nothing left if we don’t preserve this cabin.”

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

The Niland cabin served as a collaborative hub for more than just the Niland family, which adds to the site’s historic significance.

“There would be like 50 wagons parked up there in the summer,” Emmons told Cowboy State Daily. “They would park all the wagons and then from this point on they would pack with horses. They’d have two or three pack horses and then they’d trail those up in the mountains and then they’d use little teepee tents.”

The tents had just enough room for a dry place to sleep, as well as little stoves to keep warm or cook food at night.

“They had little kitchen boxes, and they would spend the summer that way,” Emmons said. “They didn’t have wagons up in the mountains because it was too hard to get around in them.”

Many different operations used the Niland camp as a staging point. The camp had a centralized supply depot, as well as corrals and other workspaces where different operations could separate, count, brand, and dip their sheep for ticks.

“They didn’t have the spray-on stuff we have now, one shot gets rid of ticks,” Emmons said. “So they’d have to dip them. And before they’d come out, they had this tool where they’d dunk their head under and then pull them back up with the other.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Just In The Nick Of Time"}]

The Niland cabin looks, at first glance, like a hundred other weather-beaten log buildings in Wyoming’s high country. 

But many signs of its deeper history are still there, written on the walls and on the aspen trees that surround this little cabin in Carbon County.

Saving the cabin and all of its history has come just in the nick of time, too.

“This wall,” Emmons said, gesturing toward a newly built wall with pine logs on its face, “Wade (Golden) shored it up with things to hold the roof and then he gave (the wall) just one pound, and the whole thing just fell over. It was so rotten.”

Golden is part of a core restoration crew that also includes Mathias Kneeland and Rick Beck. 

Because of that, Emmons is sure that the cabin wouldn’t have survived one more winter without falling apart. 

The cabin’s restoration will remain true to its history, Emmons said, though a few changes are being made to help ensure it survives.

“We built this deck with removable panels here so that as the snow comes off in the winter, it can drop down there and won’t just sit and be heavy,” Emmons explained.

But they left the front room’s roof pitch the same as it ever was, deeming that too big a change for the preservation of history.

Inside the cabin, there’s treasure of another sort. Guests of the cabin, through the years, have written little messages on the wall. It was part of a tradition at the cabin, talking who had been there and what had taken place when at the cabin.

“We went swimming at the second (illegible). Got leeches and we caught fish,” reads one message written by someone named Teagan. 

“Marvelous Dinner + Company even better! Love Kate,” Reads another dated June 28, 1987. 

“First time 12 yrs, I’ll be back,” is signed 9-19-96 by Bill Niland. Below that is another message from Bill that says, “I’m back for good! 5-25-03.”

Emmons has been told some of the signatures on the wall may belong to former Los Angeles Dodgers players. She’s still trying to verify which signatures belong to them, and where they might be located.

“I’m kind of hoping people don’t keep doing that,” she added. 

While the older ones are a piece of history and part of tradition at the cabin, she said newer ones would no longer be adding to that tradition, given that the cabin’s use is changing and it is no longer a sheep operation.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Windows Into Time"}]

Emmons has taken photographs of life at the cabin and had them placed on metal signs. She plans to place the metal images strategically around the cabin. They’ll be a window into what might have been seen from that location during Wyoming’s sheep herding heyday.

While cattle ranching dominates Wyoming’s popular western image, Wyoming’s sheep herds and wool helped build the economies of communities across Carbon County and the state.

By 1910, the Cowboy State was grazing more than 5.5 million sheep, making it one of the leading wool and mutton producers in the United States. Carbon County, meanwhile, was once the top lamb-and-wool county in the nation. 

Wyoming is also where sheep wagons were invented in the 1880s. The covered wagons had a bed, a stove, a table, and a kitchen sink, as well as some storage. They acted as tiny mobile homes for sheep herders, especially during the winter.

The industry also brought a unique mix of cultures to Wyoming, including Basque, Scottish, and Irish herders. Many of their descendants still live in Wyoming.

The Niland cabin is surrounded by an aging aspen forest. Many of the trees have names and dates or other messages carved on them.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"The landscape, though, is changing."}]

“All these trees are going to die,” Emmons said. “And then all the little ones will grow up again. So, all of a sudden, you’ll have these vistas through the trees you didn’t even know you had.”

It will be a scenic spot for a public access cabin, once completed. 

Emmons hopes the cabin will prove useful for Wyoming students, whether high school or college, to learn about the forest and a little of Wyoming’s sheep herding history. 

This fall, she’s hoping to finish installing a solar powered water system for the property, as well as a functioning toilet and fire-suppression capacity, thanks to a grant from the Wyoming Community Foundation. 

“I love it up here,” Emmons said. “I would get up here about 7 o’clock in the morning or 6:30. The sun is just rising and the kids wouldn’t have shown up yet, and it’s just so peaceful up here. It’s amazing.”

The cabin’s restoration will take a few years, Emmons said, but once it’s ready there will be a picnic or a party to celebrate.

“We don’t get anything done in a hurry,” she said with a chuckle, looking around at the new fence around the property built by youths with the Wyoming Conservation Corps and the new front for the cabin that’s recently been installed. “But we do get it done eventually.”

Niland Cabin 20260809 161551 8 15 26

<title>Leeches, Lambs And Log Walls: Race Is On To Save Medicine-Bow’s Niland Cabin | Cowboy State Daily</title>

High up in the Medicine Bow National Forest, a log cabin that once anchored one of Wyoming’s old range-sheep operations was in danger of being lost forever until the Little Snake River Museum stepped up. "There will be nothing left if we don’t preserve this cabin," they say.

Leeches, Lambs And Log Walls: Race Is On To Save Medicine-Bow’s Niland Cabin

Welsch mug

Jeff Welsch

Sports

Their Links of Dreams unfolded in every way they imagined: The long drive past cornfields on a lonely dirt road, a massive American flag and windsock fluttering over a clubhouse perched atop a knoll on the endless undulating terrain of northeast Nebraska, and the first religious glimpse of the No. 1 tee, fairways and greens unlike any others.

For Sheridan’s Josh Gardner and Jared Stiver, a moment coveted by golfers worldwide — but rarely experienced — was, at long last, at hand.

To secure a tee time at the Landmand Golf Club outside of Homer, Nebraska, 

Some 11,000 slots are made available each New Year’s Eve for the novel 4-year-old course; they’re gone in less than an hour.

Now here Gardner and Stiver were the first week of August, two regular guys from Wyoming, somehow entered to play Landmand in the inaugural The Heartbeat tournament, a Golf Channel creation, after Gardner took a Plan B New Year's Eve stab on the course's website. 

Soon they would be pitted against pairs from all 50 states over four days, a fortuitous practice round and three days of competition.

“Everything about it was cool,” Stiver told Cowboy State Daily less than a week after their return home. “You’re on top of a hill from start to finish, and you see forever and it’s all golf around you, and it’s all awesome.”

[{"type":"text","text":"Then the golf happens."}]

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"A Course Unlike Any Other"}]

Gardner and Stiver have played courses of all shapes and sizes, in all types of environments, foreign and domestic.

[{"type":"text","text":"Nothing could prepare them for Landmand."}]

“We got there and I was just excited to be there,” Gardner recalled with a chuckle. “It didn’t really matter what was in front of us. Like, this is awesome. But by the time we got to the fourth or fifth green, I thought, ‘I don’t know if I can do this four days in a row.’

“I wasn’t prepared for how massive it all was. The scale is hard to describe.”

Landmand was carved out of the treeless Loess Hills, and at nearly 600 acres is roughly four times the size of typical 18-hole courses. Fairways are the width of football fields. Gaping bunkers swallow golfers whole.

[{"type":"text","text":"Only the tee boxes offer any semblance of flatness."}]

[{"type":"text","text":"And then ... those greens."}]

On average, they sprawl to more than double the size of typical American greens. Some are four to six times larger. At three-quarters of an acre, the 17th green ranks as one of the world’s largest, in the same league as the revered Old Course at St. Andrews in Scotland.

[{"type":"text","text":"Gradients rose to 25%."}]

“You could put seven Powder Horn greens in one there,” Stiver said of their home course in Sheridan. “Monster greens.”

Echoed Gardner: “Greens the size of Walmart. If that golf course was here (Sheridan) I’d take my kids sledding on it and they’d need a helmet. They’d be like the blue runs on a ski hill. In some spots where they placed the flag you couldn’t even see it.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Howling Wyoming-esque Winds"}]

Two golfers from Sheridan won the lottery on New Year's Eve when they were selected to play at the toughest place to book a tee time in the U.S. All 11,000 tee times were booked in one hour and they played last week. "It's all awesome," Jared Stiver said.

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