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

<title>Daily Smile: Sunday, May 31, 2026 | Cowboy State Daily</title>

Daily Smile: Sunday, May 31, 2026

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Headshot of Cowboy State Daily reporter, Dale Killingbeck

Dale Killingbeck

Wyoming Life

Around Wyoming

Wyoming’s oil, gas, coal, uranium and other minerals were not its only buried wealth from August 1933 through at least several months of 1934.

There was also a good portion of $90,000 in $20 bills buried somewhere near Cheyenne, part of a ransom payment in the July 22, 1933, kidnapping of an Oklahoma oilman.

Nearly a century later, it’s still not known for sure of all of that money has ever been found and there’s still loot still buried somewhere in Cheyenne.

The kidnappers were Machine Gun Kelly and Albert Bates, and the Cheyenne money represented Bates’ cut of the loot. 

It was buried by Bates’ wife of three months and her 21-year-old son. 

FBI documents from the time are not clear about whether all of that money was removed or recovered; however, a 1934 Oklahoma newspaper article seems to indicate the money was eventually dug up and taken to Oregon.

Regardless, the ground somewhere around the Wyoming Capitol in those months played a part in one of that decade’s notorious gangster sagas.

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

One year after Congress passed the “Lindbergh Law” making kidnapping a federal offense if the victim is transported across state lines, Bates and Kelly went to the Oklahoma City home of Charles Urschel.

With his wife, Urschel was playing cards on a screened porch with Walter Jarrett and his wife. The Urschels represented millions of dollars in oil wealth.

Two masked men, one with a machine gun and one with a pistol, opened the door at 11:15 p.m. on Saturday, July 22, according to FBI documents dated Oct. 15, 1935. 

The men asked Urschel to identify himself. When there was no response, they took both men.

“After warning the women against calling for help, they marched Urschel and Jarrett to where they had driven their car, put them into the back of the Chevrolet sedan and drove them away,” the FBI file states. 

“Mrs. Urschel, in accordance with the (U.S.) Attorney General’s advice to the public, immediately telephoned J. Edgar Hoover,” the documents continue. "Special agents were sent to Oklahoma City where an extensive investigation commenced.”

Jarrett was released by the kidnappers 12 miles outside the city after they had identified him through his wallet and robbed him of $50.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"$200,000 Demand"}]

The FBI initially let the ransom process play out. 

Another Oklahoma oilman friend was contacted days later through a Western Union package with a letter from Urschel detailing how the kidnappers wanted $200,000 and asking him to be an intermediary.

An elaborate scheme involving a newspaper ad, post office box, and train trip by Urschel’s friend carrying a new suitcase full of the cash in $20 bills was outlined by the kidnappers. 

The FBI’s policy at the time was to try and ensure the safety of the victim.

When it came time to provide the money, the family, with counsel from the FBI, went to the Federal Reserve Bank of Kansas City and got $200,000 in $20 bills. 

All the serial numbers on the 10,000 bills were recorded.

The train scheme to deliver the case was followed, and on July 31, Urschel was taken to Norman, Oklahoma, given $10 and released.

Though blindfolded and with cotton in his ears for some of his transport and captivity, the oilman’s description of sounds of oil rigs, airplanes and snippets of conversation helped the FBI pinpoint the Texas ranch of Machine Gun Kelly’s wife as the place he was held captive.

A raid on the ranch found Kathryn Kelly’s parents admitting that they had stood guard over Urschel and told agents that George “Machine Gun” Kelly and Bates had kidnapped him. 

At their home, the agents also arrested a Kansas State Penitentiary escapee who had $700 worth of Urschel ransom money on him.

The FBI put out nationwide information for law enforcement to be on the lookout for Bates and the Kellys.

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

On Aug. 12, 1933, Bates was arrested in Denver after returning from a trip to Oregon. 

Colorado detectives received a tip he has appeared at the train station and arrested him for robbing the First State Bank of Louisville, Colorado. They also started looking for his wife.

“Detectives Henry Tormay and Harry Bernstein, who arrested Bates, began a search here Friday for Bates’ wife, who is said to have come to Denver and is believed to be using the name ‘Mrs. George L. Davis,’ an alias police say Bates used,” the Fort Collins Coloradan reported on Aug. 18, 1933.

FBI documents dated April 25, 1934, from the agency's Salt Lake City office show the agency still actively looking for Clara Feldman, Bates' wife, who also was using the name Ruth Johnson. 

Agents also were doing research trying to track a Chevy automobile. A Salt Lake City agent also was sent to Cheyenne to dig into “undeveloped leads.”

“Will secure all information possible, helpful in locating Ruth Johnson (Clara Feldman) and (the name was blacked out),” the agent wrote.

But Bates' wife was not found until months later. 

The FBI’s tactic of copying the serial numbers of all the $20 bills and distributing that information to banks across the country paid off.

“Urschel Ransom Found In Oregon,” the Morning Oregonian newspaper reported on Nov. 8, 1934. “Officers take $1,360 off driver hurt in crash.”

The driver was Alvin Scott, 46, who on Nov. 2 was involved in a high-speed crash that put him in the hospital in critical condition. 

Police found $1,360 in $20 bills linked to the kidnapping. 

Clara Feldman’s sister, Margarette Hurtienne, was his housekeeper. His and Hurtienne’s arrests led agents to Feldman and her son, Edward, 21, and his wife, Betty, in Dunsmuir, California.

Clara Feldman, aka Clara Davis and Clara Bates, told FBI agents that she and her son had traveled from Denver to Oregon with Albert Bates in August 1933 — just after the kidnapping — to visit family and they had returned to Denver without Bates.

She had not been aware of her husband’s return to Denver until she heard from a released county jail cellmate who brought a message from Bates to her apartment.

The message was brief: “Look in the suitcase.”

When Feldman opened it, it was filled with $20 bills.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"'Vicinity Of Cheyenne'"}]

An FBI memo to J. Edgar Hoover on Dec. 16, 1934, states that Edward Feldman told agents that in the year prior they buried the money “in the vicinity of Cheyenne” and stayed in the area for two or three weeks, maintaining contact with a family in Denver connected to Margarette Hurtienne.

A Casper Tribune-Herald Article on Dec. 18, 1934, reported that Laramie County Sheriff George Carroll told local reporters that Feldman and her son were just a few steps ahead of the FBI and law enforcement in 1933 when they were in the region.

“The sheriff said he received information that persons sought in connection with the federal search for the Urschel ransom money were in Cheyenne,” the newspaper reported.

Both Clara and Edward Feldman told the FBI that once they buried the money, they were contacted by noted Denver attorney Ben Laska, who was going to defend Albert Bates at the kidnapping trial in Oklahoma. 

Laska confiscated their identification papers and told Edward Feldman to use the name “Axel C. Johnson” and to go to big cities in the East to live.

Laska weeks later contacted them and asked for $10,000 to represent Bates. That would be the equivalent of $248,000 in 2026 purchasing power. 

The Feldman’s delivered Laska $8,000 of the ransom money, they told the FBI.

“Laska then asked for a diagram of the place where the remaining ransom money was buried,” the FBI reports states. “Edward Feldman furnished him with a fictitious diagram.”

Edward Feldman told agents he later delivered $2,000 in additional ransom funds to Laska and another attorney while they were in Oklahoma defending Bates at the trial.

The Feldman’s and Hurtienne agreed to testify about those payments for the feds and were extradited to Oklahoma.

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

Feldman and her son went on to plead guilty to conspiracy charges related to the kidnapping cash and testified against, Laska, who also had been charged for his part in accepting what he knew to be the ransom cash. 

They were given five-year suspended prison sentences and placed on five years of probation.

Laska was convicted and sentenced to 10 years in prison.

FBI files in the case report that the Feldmans after their arrest gave agents information to where more than $38,000 of cash was buried. 

But the FBI files do not make clear where they recovered the cash.

However, the Tulsa World reported on Dec. 18, 1934, that the cash ended up on the West Coast after reporting the amount the Feldman’s buried in Cheyenne was “about $75,000 of the money” from Bate’s $90,000 haul.

The newspaper reported that the Feldmans removed “the money after a year and transported it to Oregon and Washington.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Cash Unaccounted For"}]

FBI files do not account for the close to $25,000 not recovered from the Feldman’s or their associates such as Scott and Hurtienne that represented Bates’ haul from the kidnapping.

Clara Feldman and her sister may have used part of the funds for their wardrobe. During their first court appearances in Oregon following their arrest, The Oregon Daily Journal on Nov. 10 reported on their court attire.

“Both Mrs. Hurtienne and Clara Feldman are attractive women. They wore brown fur coats of expensive make and their entire ensembles were of corresponding color, even to their shoes, hats, dresses, scarves, purses, gloves and hosiery,” the newspaper reported.

For their actions in the kidnapping, Bates, George “Machine Gun” Kelly and his wife, Kathryn were sentenced to life in prison. 

Both men were sent to Alcatraz. Bates died on July 4, 1948 of heart disease while at Alcatraz.

Kelly died on July 18, 1954, after being transferred Leavenworth prison in Kansas.

Kathryn Kelly was initially sent to a Milan, Michigan prison and was released in 1958. She died in Oklahoma in 1985.

Edward Feldman died on March 11, 1977 and is buried in Medford, Oregon. His mother was listed in the 1940 U.S. Census as living in Portland, Oregon. Cowboy State Daily could not determine her date and place of death.

Laska was paroled from prison in 1941 and later pardoned by President Harry Truman for his role in accepting the cash and directing the Feldman’s actions.

And decades later, it’s possible there's $25,000 still buried somewhere around Cheyenne.

Downtown Cheyenne and notorious kidnappers 5 30 26

<title>$25,000 From 1933 Kidnapping Ransom Could Still Be Buried Somewhere In Cheyenne | Cowboy State Daily</title>

FBI files from 1933 reveal that $90,000 in ransom loot from a Machine Gun Kelly kidnapping scheme ended up buried somewhere around Cheyenne. Whether all the loot was ever recovered remains a question with about $25,000 still unaccounted for.

$25,000 From 1933 Kidnapping Ransom Could Still Be Buried Somewhere In Cheyenne

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

Renée Jean

Business & Tourism

Business

CHEYENNE — In some ways, it was the ultimate Mother’s Day gift, even though the gift didn’t necessarily happen on that exact date. 

In 2019, Shareen Brendle’s mother was showing early signs of dementia.

“So I bought Bouquets Unlimited from her, because it was her only out for retirement,” Brendle told Cowboy State Daily. “And then she passed away in 2022.”

Four short years later, Brendle’s independent florist shop faces a tough reality. Her Mother’s Day sales were down 10% this year, even as she heard of a nearby store giving away free bouquets for the holiday as an in-store promotion.

It felt like a sign of the times to Brendle. She’s been helping her mom at the family’s legacy shop for 38 years, and she’s watched independent florist shops dwindle all along the way.

In 1992, there were 27,000 florist storefronts in America. By 2012, that number had dropped by almost half to 14,000. Today, they number 11,750. 

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"Soon that will be 11,749. "}]

That’s because Brendle has made the difficult decision to close her mother’s store in June — one more independent florist succumbing to e-commerce and big-box price undercutting amid ever-tighter margins from rising fuel and other overhead costs.

“I’m broken-hearted about it,” she told Cowboy State Daily. “But think about the hundreds of chain stores that buy in bulk. They have hundreds of stores, so they can get better deals than small stores.”

Oftentimes, Brendle has even seen retail prices at big-box stores and supermarkets that are lower than her wholesale prices.  

“I just can’t do it anymore,” she told Cowboy State Daily. “It’s just become tougher and tougher, and we’ve had to get tighter and tighter.”

Bouquets Unlimited has been part of Cheyenne’s business landscape for 44 years. Brendle’s mother opened the shop, and for decades the store has been as much about family and community as it has flowers.

“We really balanced each other out,” Brendle said, chuckling a little bit. “It was the yin and the yang. I got to see my mom every day. A lot of people don’t have that novelty. We worked together side by side.”

Her mom was the public face for the business — active in the Chamber, Kiwanis, and other local groups — while Brendle handled the less glamorous side of ownership. She did the hiring, the firing, the purchasing, and paying the bills.

“I did all the things that owners don’t want to do,” she said. 

But she also made beautiful arrangements, winning a national floral design contest with Florist Magazine in 1998. On a trip to Hawaii, a stranger even recognized her win.

“It was like my 10 seconds of fame,” Brendle said. “He’s like, ‘Hey, you’re the one who won that design contest.’ And he goes, ‘I love your work.’ My mom was so proud.”

Even though the man was not a celebrity or someone she knew, it was a neat experience that someone from so far away had recognized her work. 

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Shifting Shopper Habits"}]

For Brendle, the trend isn’t about people falling out of love with flowers. Demand for flowers has remained strong nationally, and she sees that locally as well.

The problem for small mom-and-pop stores like hers is how many people have shifted to online buying strategies, hoping to save a buck or two on bouquets.

Nationwide, marketshare for florist shops has shrunk about 1% year over year, dropping to about $7.9 billion, according to IBISWorld’s Florists in the US Industry Analysis. 

Meanwhile, digital rivals — online marketplaces, floral apps and the big national brands like 1-800-Flowers that live on the web — have grown roughly 9.1% annually. 

On top of that, flowers are regularly available in convenience stores and supermarkets, stacked in mass-merchandiser coolers or supermarket endcaps. 

They’re available through same-day delivery apps that promise sushi with a side of laundry detergent or anything else consumers desire.

Lowe’s giving away flower bouquets for Mother’s Day, a holiday that had typically been a top sales event for her store, felt like the last straw.

“They can take that hit because of all the things they sell,” Brendle said. “So guys will be like, ‘Oh sweet, now I don’t have to go to a flower shop.’ So that cuts us out. It’s just little things like that.”

The fact that such bouquets aren’t custom-designed and won’t last for very long doesn’t seem to matter to customers anymore, Brendle added. They’re cheap, they’re convenient, and for many people, that’s become “good enough.”

Behind those cheap, grocery-store bouquets is a global supply chain that only works on volume. 

The premade bunches now crowding U.S. supermarkets start in places like Colombia and Ecuador where labor is cheap.

Flowers are cut, sorted and assembled into ready-to-sell bouquets, then flown into U.S. hubs, moving through highly automated distribution centers, so they can be delivered in bulk to retail chains.

Because these bouquets arrive premade, retailers don’t need to staff a full floral department with trained designers. They can sell professionally arranged designs at much cheaper prices than a small florist shop like Bouquets Unlimited, which is sourcing high-quality flowers from all over the world — tulips from Holland, lilies from Canada, and hothouse beauties of all kinds from California, Idaho, Florida, Hawaii and more.

Brendle confronts the structural disadvantages in her industry every time she orders flowers from her Denver wholesaler. Her shop, even though it might order 5,000 roses every Valentine’s Day, is still a very small customer compared to the big chains who are buying tens of thousands.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Order Gatherers 'Racket'"}]

Brendle is also frustrated by so-called “order gatherers.” These are national call-center companies and websites that buy up florist-related domain names and search terms, and then impersonate local flower shops online.

“They’re not florists,” she said. “You’ve heard of Ava’s Flowers, From You Flowers, Ruth’s Roses … you look up a florist in whatever city and you’re always going to find them first because they own 99.9% of the domains, and it says they’re local and they deliver.”

But what actually happens when a customer places an order with them is much different than what a customer might imagine. 

“They charge the customer at least $20 for a fee, then turn around and give it to a florist in that city,” Brendle said. “The florist gets half the money they charge the customer, and then the customer gets mad because they’re like, ‘I paid $100 and that is not a $100 bouquet.’”

When Brendle looks up the order, she can see the order she got was actually for a $40 bouquet.

“It’s a racket,” she said. “They promise the customer is going to get something that looks exactly like the picture they see online, and 90% of those pictures are photoshopped. 

"There’s no way we could get a stem to go in that position in a vase like that. It’s utterly impossible. So it’s false promises straight across the board with these call centers.”

Despite all the headwinds, Bouquets Unlimited has never lacked for talented, loyal employees.

Many of her staff have been with her for decades, including one employee who has been working alongside Brendle for the last 30 years.

“I’ve got another employee who’s been here for like 25 years, one for 16, one for eight,” she said. “It’s just been a wonderful place to work.”

Having customers come in and tell her that theirs was “the best flower shop” has meant the world to Brendle over the years. 

It’s been a memorable ride, one that she feels has made the community better. When people can’t say it in words, they come to her store and she helps them say it with flowers.

She recalls customers moved to tears when they saw their wedding or funeral flowers for the first time, as well as the women who threw expensive bouquets into the trash immediately upon receiving them, because they were still mad about something.

Flower shops, she said, see the best and the very worst of people’s lives.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Keeping The Memories"}]

As June approaches, Brendle is focusing on gratitude for her staff, her longtime customers, and for the many stolen years working alongside her mother. 

“I’m so grateful for all of our customers and their patronage,” she said. “I’m just sad we’re letting them down. Actually, we’re not letting them down. The economy is letting them down.”

Brendle doesn’t plan to be idle with her time once the shop closes, however. She’s going to be helping her husband with his business, selling innovative exercise equipment to hospitals, therapy clinics, and home gyms. 

No matter what comes next, a big part of her life will always be measured by the stems and petals of corsages and casket sprays, birthday bouquets and apology flowers from a small Cheyenne shop that was part of shaping and celebrating a community in ways she’ll never forget.

Shareen Brendle florist 2026 bouquets unlimited 4002 5 30 26

<title>Cheyenne Florist To Close After 44 Years, Can't Compete With Online Giant Flower Stores | Cowboy State Daily</title>

Cheyenne’s Bouquets Unlimited is closing its doors after 44 years because they can't compete with the online giants. In 1992, there were 27,000 florist storefronts in America. Today, they number 11,750.  “I’m broken-hearted about it,” the owner said.

Cheyenne Florist To Close After 44 Years, Can't Compete With Online Giant Flower Stores

Kolby fedore

Kolby Fedore

CASPER — More than a year after Gloria Fuller’s death, her daughters have begun dismantling a world she spent nearly 80 years building.

Down in their mother's basement, beneath exposed studs, cobwebs and insulation, they found a vintage 1950s Coldspot refrigerator still humming with life.

Glowing softly in the dim light like a mirage of mid-century America, the old appliance not only was still running, still held 30-year-old cans of Schlitz — cold to the touch.

In another life, the refrigerator held grenadine, soda bottles and trays of hors d’oeuvres for the cocktail gatherings Fuller hosted downstairs. 

Angie Hoven, one of Fuller’s daughters, remembers her mother as a meticulous hostess.

“She was well-known,” Hoven said with a chuckle, tears welling in her eyes.

If refrigerators could talk, this one would recall laughter rising through smoke, the crack of ice trays and somebody asking Gloria for “just one more” drink before heading home, Hoven said.

Now it sits in a basement frozen between eras, still doing the job it was built to do nearly 75 years ago.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"The Machine That Wouldn’t Die"}]

The Coldspot itself belongs to another chapter of American manufacturing entirely.

Built by Sears before Kenmore overtook the brand, the refrigerator represents the thick steel, rounded-edge philosophy of postwar appliances — heavy, mechanical and intentionally durable. 

No touch screens. No computer boards. Just compressors, fans and stubborn engineering that doesn’t quit.

At 88 years old, Thermopolis appliance repairman Martin Andreen — 

—still speaks about old refrigerators the way ranchers talk about reliable pickups.

[{"type":"text","text":"“They were good machines,” he said. “Simple.”"}]

Andreen said the old Coldspots were built simply enough that most problems can still be repaired decades later. 

The biggest headache, he said, is when the freezer fan goes out, though even that usually isn't difficult to fix.

His brother owned a Coronado refrigerator that ran for more than 60 years before eventually being moved into a family member’s shop in Douglas.

[{"type":"text","text":"“For all I know, it’s probably still running,” Martin said."}]

Hoven recently listed her mother’s Coldspot on Facebook classifieds for $1,000 — a figure she admits is ambitious. 

Before the listing went public, she said somebody once offered nearly double that for it, though the deal eventually fell apart.

The Coldspot's longevity is impressive, but Andreen laughed at the idea of paying $1,000 for “that old thing.”

Even $200, he admitted, feels high to him, though he acknowledged vintage refrigerators have become collectible for people chasing retro aesthetics and mid-century Americana.

[{"type":"text","text":"“I’d probably try to get the price down,” he said with a laugh."}]

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"An Empire Of Trinkets"}]

[{"type":"text","text":"The old refrigerator isn’t the only monument to another era."}]

Inside the Fuller home, antiques spill from shelves and tabletops like the lacy buttercream frosting of a 1980s wedding cake.

Cream and burgundy wingback chairs face each other beneath crystal chandeliers, doubled in the reflection of gold-framed mirrors. Dappled sunlight filters through gathered lace curtains and bounces off old vases bursting with artificial roses.

The dining room table remains crowded with shimmering glass pitchers, crystal bowls, ornate candlesticks and floral centerpieces arranged as though guests might still arrive at any moment.

“She was a perfectionist,” Hoven said of her mother. “And a collector.”

[{"type":"text","text":"The deeper you move into the house, the denser it becomes."}]

[{"type":"text","text":"Lampshades wear fringe and lace collars. "}]

Decorative stained-glass flowers cast rainbow light across bedrooms crowded with brass bedframes and heaps of blush-colored pillows arranged for the heads of sleeping dolls in gauzy dresses that drift toward the carpet like fog.

“Mother would’ve turned over in her grave if she could see what we’ve done to the place,” Hoven said, turning to the cleaning supplies and boxes stacked in every corner, explaining her mother always kept an immaculate home.

“It has been extremely hard,” Hoven said. “Our mom was our world. At first it was hard to part with anything.”

Hoven now moves through the home attached to an oxygen tank, frequently stopping to rest while battling the same COPD that ultimately killed her mother.

[{"type":"text","text":"Still, she continues sorting through thousands of objects piece by piece."}]

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"The Weight Of Inheritance"}]

Across America, adult children increasingly find themselves inheriting homes like this — houses dense with objects tied to another era of domestic life.

China cabinets. Crystal bowls. Crochet tablecloths. Figurines. Curio shelves. Heavy wooden furniture built well enough to outlive multiple generations.

The problem is that while the emotional value remains enormous, the market value often does not.

Estate sale organizer Robyn Cutter has spent so many weekends clearing out people’s homes she has earned an unofficial Ph.D. in the business of “stuff”: what Americans save, what strangers covet and what nobody can seem to give away.

China cabinets, she said, are notoriously difficult to move. Crochet tablecloths can be hit-or-miss. Dolls fluctuate wildly depending on the buyer.

[{"type":"text","text":"Cast iron cookware almost always disappears quickly."}]

Looking at a photo of Fuller’s Coldspot, Cutter estimated it would probably bring somewhere between $100 and $200 locally.

Still, she understands why people become attached to objects like that refrigerator.

“It’s too gut-wrenching,” Cutter said of families watching strangers buy pieces of their loved one’s lives.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"One Last Goodbye"}]

An auctioneer from Buffalo is expected to sort through the Fuller house’s remaining heaps.

More than a year after a Casper woman died, her daughters found a 75-year-old Coldspot refrigerator, hidden by cobwebs and insulation, humming with life. In fact, the fridge from the 1950s, was keeping 30-year-old cans of Schlitz ice-cold.

Daily Smile: Sunday, May 31, 2026

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