Murder: True Crime Stories - SOLVED: The Coors Brewery Murder 1

Episode Date: September 16, 2025

In 1960, Adolph Coors III, heir to the Coors Brewing Company, left his Colorado ranch for work and vanished without a trace. This episode traces the Coors family’s rise from humble immigrant beginnings to beer empire royalty, before the winter morning that turned their legacy into a headline-making mystery. What followed was one of the largest manhunts in U.S. history. Murder: True Crime Stories is a Crime House Original Podcast, powered by PAVE Studios. Listen wherever you get your podcasts. For ad-free listening and early access to episodes, subscribe to Crime House+ on Apple Podcasts. Don’t miss out on all things Murder: True Crime Stories! Instagram: @Crimehouse TikTok: @Crimehouse Facebook: @crimehousestudios X: @crimehousemedia YouTube: @crimehousestudios To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hey there, it's Carter. If you're enjoying murder, true crime stories, you'll love Crime House's newest show, Crime House Daily. Twice every weekday, host Katie Ring brings you the biggest crime stories as they unfold. Twice a day. In the morning, get the latest updates. At night, dive into the moments that matter. Follow Crime House Daily wherever you listen or catch them on YouTube so you never miss an episode. This is Crime House.

We all have an origin story, a person, a place, or even an idea that shaped us. For Adolf Coors, that origin story began in the late 1800s in Germany, with a bottle of beer. From that moment onwards, he was determined. to open his own brewery, but he didn't think Germany was the place to do it. In search of more opportunities, he stowed away on a ship bound for America. He arrived with nothing more than a dream and a whole lot of grit. Three generations later, that dream had flourished into a multi-million dollar empire. By then, the Corps' name, and the man who started it, was known around the globe. The Company had weathered countless storms from prohibition to two world wars.

Through it all, the Coors family stood tall, seemingly untouchable, until 1960. When Adolf Coors, the third, was abducted near his home in Morrison, Colorado. It was a twist that no one saw coming, and one that rewrote the Coors family story forever. People's lives are like a story. There's a beginning, a middle, and an end. But you don't always know which part you're on. Sometimes the final chapter arrives far too soon, and we don't always get to know the real ending on Carter Roy.

And this is Murder, True Crime Stories, a crime house original powered by Pave Studios that releases every Tuesday and Thursday. At Crime House, we want to express our gratitude to you, our community for making this possible. Please support us by rating, reviewing, and following Murder True Crime Stories, wherever you get your podcasts. And to enhance your Murder True Crime Stories listening experience, subscribe to Crime House Plus on Apple Podcasts. You'll get ad-free listening, early access to every two-part series, and, exciting bonus content. This is the first of two episodes on the 1960 abduction and murder of

Adolf Coors III in Morrison, Colorado. Today, we'll meet the Coors family. After their humble beginnings in Germany, they became rulers of a beer empire on the American frontier. But the whole business was put in jeopardy when Addaf Coors III, better known as Ad, suddenly vanished in the winter of 1960. Next time, we'll follow detectives as they search for ad. Within days of his disappearance, the FBI launched its largest FBI manhunt since the Lindbergh baby kidnapping. Eventually, they did find ad, but the investigation wasn't over.

Not even close. All that and more coming up. By 1960, 45-year-old Adolf Coors III was living out his dreams. His family owned and operated the Coors Brewery in Golden, Colorado. Adolf, better known as Ad, was the company's CEO. But he was more interested in the ranch he'd recently built in nearby Morrison. there he raised horses and tended to the land because the truth was the brewery had never been his ultimate goal it had been his grandfathers that's where the corps story began back in eighteen forty seven adds grandpa the first adolf course was born in germany in eighteen forty seven then called prussia it was a time when the region was marred by famine

and fighting. To help his family get by, Adolf started work at a very young age. Mostly he took whatever odd jobs he could get. But at 15, he got an opportunity that changed his life. In 1862, Adolf apprenticed with a master brewer, learning the craft of beer making. From then on, it was his dream to open his own brewery. But that would be easier said than done. Back then, Germany wasn't a country yet. It was more like a loosely affiliated collection of nation-states that were constantly at war with one another.

The political and economic instability made it nearly impossible to start a business. And eventually, Adolf realized he'd have to look elsewhere to make his dreams come true. Six years later, the 21-year-old was ready to take the leap. In 1868, he stowed away on a ship bound for America. Adolf first landed in Baltimore, Maryland. From there, he took whatever jobs he could get, moving around the country to make ends meet.

Eventually, he made his way to Colorado in 1872. For a while, he lived in Denver, working six days a week, week is the manager of a bottle-making plant. He saved all his money, and by 1873, he was one step closer to his ultimate goal. That year, 26-year-old Adolf and a friend purchased an old tannery building, a place where animal hides are turned into leather. It was located in a small town called Golden. Founded in 1859, the frontier mining town had recently been named the capital of the Colorado Territory. It was nestled in a valley at the base of the southern Rocky Mountains and built around a river called Clear Creek. And while many people were

drawn to the town because of a gold rush, Adolf was focused on liquid gold. Any decent brewer knows that to make good beer, you need good water. And according to Adolf, the water in golden was unlike anything he'd ever tasted. At that moment, he knew, this was the place he'd been looking for. The same year he and his partner purchased the tannery in 1873, they converted it into golden brewery. Thanks to the soft water that flowed from Clear Creek, Adolf's beer was light and bright. It was much more refreshing and easier to drink than other popular beers, which tended to be rich and filling. That also meant people bought a lot more of it.

By 1880, seven years after first opening, the brewery was doing so well that 32-year-old Adolf was able to buy out his partner. As the sole owner, he renamed it Adolf Kor's Golden Brewery. But that wasn't the only big change in his life around that time. In April of 1879, Adolf married 17-year-old Louisa Weber. She was the daughter of a high-level employee at the local railroad company, and their family grew just as quickly as the brewery. By 1890, they had six children, three sons and three daughters. The boys were primed to become executives at their father's company with the oldest Adolf Jr.

set to inherit the title of CEO, and he had some pretty big shoes to fill. Adolf Sr. wasn't like other businessmen. He was passionate about making beer, not money. His background as a working-class immigrant made him more sympathetic to his employees, paying them a decent salary and allowing them to unionize. But even though the business side of things wasn't his priority, Adolf was still a savvy entrepreneur. Like other brewery owners, he paid close attention to the growing temperance movement in the early 1900s. As it gained momentum, politicians started to push for a nationwide ban on alcohol production and consumption. Other brewery owners tried to fight back, lobbying against the proposals, but Adolf had a different

strategy. He decided to diversify his products. In 1915, the owner of the Harold Pottery and China Company, located near the Coors Brewery, retired. Adolf had invested in them years before and took the opportunity to buy out the business. 31-year-old Adolf Jr. was named CEO, and that's when the work really began. A year later, Colorado's prohibition law went into effect. While they weren't the first state to outlaw the sale and transport of alcohol, they were among the earliest. But that wasn't the family's only challenge. In compliance with the law, the Coors Brewery shifted production to malted milk.

It wasn't nearly as profitable, and many breweries were forced to let workers go. Luckily for Coors employees, they were simply moved from the brewery, to the newly renamed Coors Porcelain Company. There, they answered to Adolf Jr. After one year at the helm, he'd already made some pretty big changes. With his degree in chemical engineering from Cornell, he knew most specialized lab equipment was made of ceramics. He also knew that almost all of that equipment was imported from Germany, which was a problem for most of the country, because in April 1917, the U.S. officially entered World War I, and one of its main aggressors was Germany. That meant the U.S. was no longer importing any products from them, including

ceramics. So Adolf Jr. decided to increase the company's production of lab equipment. It was a very smart move. Before long, Coors' porcelain was one of the biggest suppliers in the U.S. Thanks to the porcelain business, the Coors family was doing well financially. But that didn't mean the brewery was. At that point, they were barely breaking even. Adolf Sr. knew he'd have to slash salaries. He hoped his workers would stand by him, the way he'd tried to stand by them. Instead, they went on strike. After all the damage that Prohibition had already done,

it must have felt like salt in the wound. It might have been why Adolf Sr. listened when his son told him to fire the strikers. It was one of the final actions he took as head of the company. In 1923, 76-year-old Adolf Korsen, officially signed his entire company over to his son, 39-year-old Adolf Jr. By then, Adolf Sr. was unmoored. Prohibition dragged on with no end in sight. His beloved brewery was a shell of its former self, just like him. Six years later, in June 1929, 82-year-old

Adolf fell from the window ledge of his sixth-th floor hotel room. in Virginia Beach, Virginia. As part of his will, he specified that his bill at the hotel be paid in full. His death was considered a suicide. It was a hard pill to swallow for the rest of the family. Adolf Sr. had died thinking his life's work was gone forever, his empire in ruins. But just four years later, prohibition ended. And the brewery was still. standing. The future was no longer as hopeless as Adolf Sr. had imagined, but the fate of the Corps' legacy was now entirely in his son's hands, and these hands ruled with an iron grip. In 1933, four years after Adolf Korr's senior's tragic death, Prohibition and, and

ended. By then, the Colorado-based Coors business, including the brewery and the ceramics factory, rested on the shoulders of his eldest son, 49-year-old Adolf Korz Jr. Adolf Jr. immediately got to work restoring the brewery to its former glory. And although he wasn't starting over from scratch, there was still a lot to do. First, he needed to track down which suppliers and distributors had survived. the prohibition and renegotiate those contracts. After that, he wanted to redesign and expand the brewery itself. The bigger brewery meant more staff. But it wasn't as simple as just hiring more employees. Years ago, Adolf Sr. had fired a group of workers who'd gone on strike. Since then,

Cores had been essentially blacklisted by the union. Not only did that make it harder to hire new employees. It was also bad optics. Coors beer was meant for the working man. No self-respecting laborer would drink a union-busting beer. So Adolf Jr. put aside his personal feelings and made nice. He agreed to the 36-hour work week they requested and even promised Christmas bonuses worth an extra month's pay. Thankfully, it was enough to get the company back in the union's good graces. That was just the first step in a very long to-do list, but thankfully, Adolf Jr. wasn't doing it alone. His two brothers were also executives at the company, and then there were Adolf Jr.'s own sons who were nearing adulthood at this point. As a parent, Adolf Jr. was

incredibly strict. His work ethic was all-consuming, and his standards were very high. especially when it came to his three sons. Coors men were expected to be perfect, both in academics and in business, which brings us back to Adolf Coors, the third, better known as Ad to family and friends. At 18 years old, Ad was Adolf Jr's eldest, and he was headed to his dad's alma mater, Cornell, where he studied chemical engineering like his father. but he never got his master's degree like Addof Jr. wanted him to. Ad was also allergic to beer, which Adolf Jr. took as some sort of personal affront,

as if Ad had any choice. To make matters worse, Ad also had a pretty severe stutter as a kid. It had gotten better over the years, but it still came out when he was nervous or agitated. So while the plan was for Ad to someday be named, CEO, in accordance with the family tradition, it would almost be a symbolic title. His younger brother, Bill, would have to step in as brewmaster and company spokesman. It seemed like a compromise both boys were okay with. And by 1939, they graduated college, which meant it was time to get to work. 24-year-old ad and 23-year-old Bill took their places at the brewery, but if they thought being college graduates would earn them some independence, they were sorely mistaken.

Adolf Jr. maintained rigid control over his sons, from their salaries down to what they wore. While Adolf Jr. wore a three-piece suit every day, he required ad and bill to dress more modestly. That meant khakis and button downs. They blended right in with the other employees. And out. That was exactly the point. Adolf Jr. didn't want his children to stand out in any way. It was partially about reputation. Coors beer was for the working class, so he didn't want the Coors family to come off like snobs. But it was also a security measure, something Adolf Jr. could be a bit paranoid about. It wasn't all in his head, though. In the months after, Prohibition was repealed, kidnapping for ransom became rampant. The exact reason is unclear,

but one possible explanation was that bootleggers had lost a lot of their profits. Now they were looking for new ways to make money. In February of 1933, a friend of Adolf Jr.'s was taken and held captive for two weeks. He was eventually released unharmed. But the experience shook Adolf Jr. He was worried he was next. He was right to be afraid. A few months later, around September 1933, Denver police uncovered a plot against Adolf Jr. himself. They'd learned that two former agents of the defunct Federal Bureau of Prohibition were planning to take him for $50,000. That's over $1.2 million in today's money. From then on, Adolf Jr. was fixated on keeping the targets off his family's back.

So, even though Ad was the heir to a multi-million dollar empire, he looked like any other middle-class guy. He was tall, like his father and brothers, and built like an athlete. But unlike the other men in his family, he had interests in hobbies outside of brewing and business. ad liked sports baseball mostly so much so that he wore a tan baseball cap every day even to the office he also loved anything to do with the outdoors he dreamed of someday owning a ranch and breeding horses his father would never let him follow that dream though and he wasn't the only person in ad's life who didn't approve His girlfriend, Mary Grant, was more of a city girl who preferred dinner parties to riding horses. Like Ad, she came from money.

Her family had been among the first to settle the Colorado Territory, and her grandfather was its third governor once it became a state. Mary was also impressive in her own right. After attending a prestigious girls high school, she went on to study at Vassar College in New York. At the time, Vassar was known as one of the few women's universities that provided an education equal to that of men's colleges. It prided itself on turning out independent thinkers. It certainly succeeded when it came to Mary.

She was quick-witted and not afraid to speak her mind. Traits that weren't exactly appreciated in women at the time. But ad-cores didn't care. in fact that was one of his favorite things about mary we don't know exactly how or when they met and although they came from similar worlds it also seemed like a case of opposites attracting ad was a reserved and simple guy while mary was outgoing and like the finer things in life none of it stopped them from falling madly in love not everyone was happy for the couple though adolf jubes Jr. did not like Mary. Whether it was because she was known to party or because she was outspoken, he pleaded with Ad to find someone else. For the first time, Ad put his foot down. He refused to end the relationship. In fact, he wanted to make Mary his wife. By then, it seemed like there wasn't much Adolf Jr. could do. In 1940, Adad and Mary both

25 years old, got married. The newlyweds settled down in Denver, still, living a half-hour way, didn't absolve them of Coors' family duties. Every Sunday, Ad and Mary would make the pilgrimage to Golden for family dinners. Before the meal, they were forced to make small talk with Ad's parents, who barely hid their dislike for Mary. Dinner itself was long and nearly silent. as meals had always been throughout ad's childhood adolf junior couldn't stand idle chit-chat at the table while it wasn't mary's idea of a good time it was the price she paid to be with ad and for the most part their life together was happy

but just as things were settling into a peaceful rhythm a storm brewed on the horizon beginning in 1939 world war ravaged Europe. Then on December 7th, 1941, Japan launched a surprise attack on the U.S. base at Pearl Harbor. Once again, America was at war, and no one was safe. Not even a family as influential as the Cors. During the Volvo Fall Experience event,

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sometimes a love affair so twisted that someone ends up dead. maybe even at the hands of their hot dentist. I'll be joined by a rotating panel of special guests, including my sister Shannon, a criminal defense attorney, along with police officers, detectives, and even my own husband, Peter, who's always ready to break down those infamous cases where a wife takes out her husband.

So buckle up because we're about to revisit classic juicy crimes and uncover the latest cases everyone is talking about. Subscribe to Juicy Crimes for free at Apple Podcast. Spotify, or wherever you listen to podcasts. In 1940, things were coming together for the Kores family in Golden, Colorado. Their brewery had recovered from prohibition and was thriving under the leadership of 56-year-old Adolf Kores Jr. and his two eldest son's ad and bill. But a year later, the U.S. entered World War II and the coming.

company was in jeopardy once more. Luckily, 26-year-old Ad and 25-year-old Bill managed to avoid the draft. Ad's ticket out was his near-sightedness. That meant he was able to stay home with his new wife, 26-year-old Mary, who was expecting their first child. Bill's excuse came straight from the government. They needed Coors porcelain to make a special type of insulator for a top-secret project. Once again, the pottery company had saved cores while the brewery struggled to break even.

Grain rations had severely hampered production at the brewery. They limped along as best they could for four years until 1945 when the end of World War II was finally in sight. As the country emerged from wartime restrictions, the U.S. economy saw massive growth. And so did the business. The brewery picked up again, and the Coors family was back on top. By 1952, 37-year-old AdCores had what some might consider a dream life. He and Mary had four children, two girls and two boys. They had a beautiful home in Denver, Colorado.

Mary's days were spent taking care of the house and kids, while her nights were busy with social gatherings and charity events. Meanwhile, Ad was still plugging away at the brewery, and things were going so well that 68-year-old Adolf Jr. officially made him the chairman and CEO of the Adolf Coors Company. But it didn't change much. Ad was still running the business side of things, while 36-year-old Bill was the brewmaster and company spokesperson. By then, their youngest brother, 35-year-old Joe, was in charge of Coors' porcelain. And even though Add was now the chairman, his dad didn't completely give him the reins. Adolf Jr. was still the majority shareholder in the company's stock, and had the final say on all things cores. But if it bothered Ad, he didn't let it show.

He'd been working for his father for over a decade at this point. He handled all the administrative work and dealt with the distributors. He was good at it. Like his grandfather, Ad was well liked and respected. But while this brewery had been his grandfather's fantasy, it wasn't ads. Deep down, Ad wanted to quit the family business and work for himself on a ranch. He dreamed of raising horses and being outside every day. He and Mary had been discussing it for years, and in 1956,

she finally agreed. Add found his dream property, 480 acres of prairie in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. It was near a little town called Morrison, about 15 miles southwest of Denver. He eagerly got to work designing his dream ranch, complete with stables and a comfortable home for his family. He didn't know things at work were about to get very heated. In 1956, the workers at Coors Porcelain went on strike over wage negotiations. But it wasn't just the ceramics factory that was in trouble. Before long, the brewery staff declared a strike in solidarity. While Ad stayed on the sidelines, his brother's Joe and Bill tried to do damage control.

Negotiations were resolved quickly and work resumed, but the whole thing left a bad take. in Bill and Joe's mouths. They were sick of unions and one of them gone. The following year, when it was time to renegotiate contracts with the union reps at the brewery, Bill and Joe were ready to play hardball. The details are complicated, but essentially they wanted to add numerous clauses that would render the union powerless. As expected, the reps rejected all of it and declared to strike. It only lasted a few months, but things got ugly. Strikers broke windows and made threatening phone calls. The family had to hire security just in case things went further south. In the end, Bill and Joe took a move straight out of their dad's playbook. They fired the strikers

and hired replacements. While all of that was happening, Ad was behind the scenes focusing on his own work. In the summer of 1958, the ranch was completed. Life finally did feel like a dream for add cores. For the most part, anyway, he still commuted 12 miles to his family's brewery for work, but at least now he did it without the city traffic. He looked forward to getting out from under his family's thumb and growing old on the ranch with Mary. And for two blissful years, it seemed like an actual possibility. But fate had other plans. The morning of Tuesday, February 9th, 1960 began just like any other. Forty-five-year-old ad woke up before everyone else and went down to the basement to do some stretching and weightlifting. After a shower, he got dressed and met Mary

in the kitchen for coffee. They chatted while sipping from their steaming mugs. When Mary went to wake their four kids for school, Ad went out into the frozen morning air to tend to his beloved ranch for a bit. By the time he came back inside, his children had already caught the bus. By 8 a.m., Ad was ready to leave for the brewery. He kissed Mary goodbye and promised to be home for supper. He pulled his white and teal travel-wall station wagon out of the garage, waving to his ranch hands as he backed down the driveway. At 10.30 a.m. Bill and Joe Coors were waiting for ad in the office they all shared. Usually ad was extremely prompt. They all had to be. But this week, their father, Adolf Jr., was on vacation in Hawaii, so things were a bit more relaxed around the office. They assumed Ad was out in a field and lost track of time. Bill asked Ad's secretary to find out where he was.

when the phone rang at the ranch mary answered she was a little worried to hear he hadn't made it to the office yet they didn't have much time to talk that morning but ad didn't mention making any stops on the way in the secretary was getting concerned too ad always called ahead especially if he was going to be late for the executives meeting with his brothers she and mary called everywhere they could think of the feed store the warehouse, even the offices at the porcelain company. Ad was nowhere to be found. Then, sometime around noon, the Colorado State Patrol contacted the brewery about a company car. It was found abandoned on a country road. Bill and Joe rushed to meet the patrolman. When they arrived, they saw ads travel all. It was near Turkey Creek Bridge. just two miles from Ad's ranch. The officer explained that a milkman had reported the vehicle at 10.20 that morning. He'd been making his morning deliveries when he came across the travel all, completely blocking the path.

The bridge was just wide enough for one car to pass at a time. There was no way to get around it. He got out of his vehicle to see what was going on. The first thing he noticed was that the car was still running. He could hear the engine and the radio, and yet there was no sign of the driver, assuming they had to be nearby. The milkman honked the travel-all's horn a few times. He waited for a while, but still no one came. Finally, he moved the travel-all himself. He got into the car, drove it past the bridge, and parked it on the side of the road. When he came back, after making his delivery,

the vehicle was still there it took a few stops on his regular route before he could get to a phone but as soon as he did he called the state patrol when the patrolman arrived the travel all was still exactly where the milkman said he'd left it clearly no one had made any attempts to retrieve it looking around for clues the officer spotted two hats on the banks of the creek he showed them to Bill and Joe. They immediately recognized one. They'd know the tan baseball cap anywhere. Ad loved that hat. The other was a brown fedora that neither of the brothers recognized. It didn't look like something Ad would own and it was slightly bigger than the baseball cap. The men surveyed the scene together and Bill spotted some tire tracks near the end of the bridge. Someone else

had been there, and they'd left in a hurry. From what little they'd found, it didn't look good. Someone would have to tell Mary. Worse, someone would have to tell Adolf, Jr. It seemed their father's worst nightmare had come true. A cores had been kidnapped. Thanks so much for joining us. I'm Carter Roy, and this is Murder True Crime Stories. Come back on Thursday for Part 2 on the murder of Adolf Coors and all the people it affected. Murder True Crime Stories is a Crime House original, powered by Pave Studios here at Crime House. We want to thank each and every one of you for your support.

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and is a crime house original powered by Pave Studios. This episode was brought to life by the Murder True Crime Stories team, Max Cutler, Ron Shapiro, Alex Benadon, Natalie Pertsovsky, Stacey Warren Kerr, Sarah Camp, Megan Hannam, Beth Johnson, and Russell Nash. Thank you for joining us. Twice every weekday, Crime House Daily has the latest stories in crime. Mornings are the headline updates.

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