Travel, History & Culture in America's Dairyland

Fish Frys

On a typical March day -- cold and gray -- in 1993, a Wisconsin Rapids man stood alone on the shoulder of County Road W in Portage County. He wore nothing but his socks. The man cupped his hands over his genitals for warmth and dignity -- he needed both desperately -- but his scrotum shrunk rapidly in the cold air and ascended into his stomach.

Della Dobbe looked in her rear-view mirror as she sped away, shaking her head in disbelief at the ease of it all. This was becoming the perfect crime. There was nothing a horny man wouldn't do. Especially the married ones. The Snow Queen had struck again.

The man was the latest victim in a string of crimes perpetrated by the wily Dobbe, who lured men into her truck and seduced them into shedding their clothes before stealing their wallets and driving away, leaving the victims naked, broke, and embarrassed, so embarrassed that the true number of muggings is unknown because some red-faced victims never reported the crime.

Dobbe’s trademark was asking men to wash up by rubbing snow on themselves. When they stepped out of the truck, she bolted.

The first reported mugging occurred March 5. After a brief flirtation in a Plover bar, Dobbe and a Rosholt man checked into Room 20 of the Blue Top Motel in Stevens Point. Dobbe suggested they take a shower. The turgid man complied anxiously. He stepped into the shower, adjusted the water temperature, cleaned his armpits and crotch with the complimentary motel soap, then called playfully for Dobbe, who was long gone with $600 in cash, three credit cards, the man’s keys, nitroglycerine pills, and pants. 

Flushed with success, Dobbe cased a Rudolph bar the next day. A pool tournament was just winding down. Dobbe introduced herself as “Kim” and began flirting with one of the patrons. She suggested they go to another bar, but they would have to take her Ford Bronco because she didn't know the way. With little more than an invitation to stop and park, the Bronco pulled over on a dark stretch of Victory Road. This one took a little more effort. Dobbe had to remove her clothes first, but she managed to get the man stripped down to his undershorts before convincing him to step outside and freshen up in the snow. 

“As soon as I stepped out of the vehicle, she was gone,” said the man who went down to defeat on Victory Rd.

The second heist yielded the man’s wallet, as well as his shoes, pants, keys, a jacket, a ring and a knife.

A day later, Dobbe worked a Wisconsin Rapids bar called Critters where she talked with a man about their mutual hobby, gambling. The pair went to the nearby Rainbow Casino for an hour, then hit another bar. After a few more beers, Dobbe said they should get a motel room. The couple left, but on the way she suggested they save their money by using the Bronco instead. This time the victim stripped down to his socks before Dobbe left him on that cold, lonely stretch of County Road W.

“Away she went,” he told police.

Officials confirmed similar incidents in other communities, but the victims refused to file reports. One man withdrew his complaint. Dubbed the "Snow Queen" by amused authorities, Dobbe was arrested March 12 and charged with three misdemeanor counts of theft.

The story of the Snow Queen grew to legendary proportions when news services reported her exploits nationwide.

On April 20, Dobbe appeared before Portage County Circuit Judge John V. Finn and pled innocent to the charges. If convicted, she would face up to nine months in jail on each count. Finn ruled in favor of consolidating the three counts into one case since there was a common scheme in each robbery. A $1,500 recognizance bond was set and Dobbe was released with the trial date to be determined. Dobbe’s attorney was nonplussed, confident that lenience would prevail. Hell, even the cops got a kick out of Dobbe’s ingenuity.

But Dobbe was hardly a femme vigilante. Her crimes were well-planned, executed with patience, timing and cunning. Dobbe was apprenticing a sinister craft. She had an experienced mentor. His name was Donald Horvath.

Horvath knew that a woman could bait a man into vulnerable situations with the promise of sex, like Dobbe was doing so effectively, but a man needed to use more imaginative measures to trap a women. He would think of something, Horvath assured Dobbe, smirking with all the confidence that experience brings.

“A Judge told me once that I could tear down Rome in a fucking day because I was such a good schemer.”

Dobbe had heard the line before. It was one of Horvath’s favorite stories, his proudest moment in life.

Dobbe held her hands together while Horvath ran tape around her wrists.

“Man, it’s what I do best,” he said about his scams, like somebody who was explaining a job or trade. “I scheme. And the cops’ job is to try to get me.”

He tied off the tape. Dobbe began trying to work her way out. They were experimenting with the tools of the trade. Practicing. Dobbe had gathered rolls of tape in her house -- masking tape, scotch tape, duct tape. He bound her wrists, she bound his.

Horvath was brainstorming a scam that would take place in an Appleton hotel room. The details were sketchy, but Dobbe would have to pose as a man by wearing a fake mustache and brandishing a pellet gun. Even Dobbe thought the idea sounded wacked-out. Then again, she thought he was nuts when he set her house on fire, and that produced thousands of dollars in insurance money.

Dobbe gave up trying to free her wrists and looked at Horvath.

Duct tape worked best.

“Man, it’s what I do best,” he said about his scams, like somebody who was explaining a job or trade. “I scheme. And the cops’ job is to try to get me.”

The Books

Features

Links

Home  |  The Book  |  Fish Frys  |  Features  |  Links

Copyright 2002-2008, Michael Bie (Classic Wisconsin)

Contact classicwisconsin

Site by Shadow 5 Productions