As part of its coverage of the Leopold and Loeb murder trial, the Minneapolis Daily Star asked a local handwriting expert to analyze Richard Loeb’s signature. Not surprisingly, the expert found evidence that the well-known “thrill killer” possessed a number of undesirable qualities. Somewhat surprisingly, “heart trouble” was among them.

Loeb Writing Sifted By
Minneapolis Pen Expert

Extravagance of Mind,
Erratic Temperament
Indicated by Signature

Insincerity, tenacity of purpose, love of admiration and self-complacency are the outstanding characteristics displayed in the handwriting of Dick Loeb, according to C.A. Frantz, handwriting expert of the Minneapolis Business college.

“The initial ‘A’ indicates a person suffering with heart trouble,” says Mr. Frantz, “while the initial ‘D’ indicates clean faculties. The slope of the writing indicates hopefulness. This is especially true of the word ‘Dick.’

“The letter ‘L’ indicates an extravagance of mind almost akin to mania. It also denotes a person who is visionary on religious subjects. It shows an unusually sensitive nature, self-satisfaction and an unbalanced mind. It also indicates a person who is nervous, erratic, of an unreasonable disposition, thoughtless of the comforts of others.

“The disconnected letters show a person not practical or logical in deductions. This person’s acts and words are largely inspirational. He is an idealist, guided by his imaginations, impressions and subconscious mind. They also indicate a person who has psychic powers.

“The open ‘O’ shows that the writer possesses little tact and that his remarks are often ill-timed and indiscreet.”

The headline caught my eye. How did a story about a parakeet’s death land in the Minneapolis Tribune? The story addresses that question quickly and unapologetically: Little Timmie was owned by Patricia Luxton, who was married to the newspaper’s gardening editor, longtime Tribune photographer George Luxton.

His career longevity nearly matches that of Sid Hartman: Luxton started shooting photos professionally in the late 1890s and wrote a gardening column from the late 1930s until his death in 1962. Luxton Park, near the couple’s home at 138 Arthur St. SE., is named after him.

Missing Parakeet Dies
After 5-Mile Flight

Timmie Luxton, the missing sky-blue parakeet who sometimes squawked “And don’t say paper, say Star and Tribune,” is dead.

	George Luxton, Tribune gardening editor, posed for this promo shot in about 1950. At least, I hope it was a promo shot — though it’s charming to think he might have worn this get-up to work.

It may have been lonesomeness for his cage in the home of Mr. and Mrs. George Luxton, 138 Arthur avenue SE.

Or fear of the night, for he left the Luxton home Friday night.

But Patricia Luxton, his owner, thinks Timmie died of exhaustion, just plain tuckered out after a five-mile flight.

The gray-winged parakeet with the four black polka dots on his breast and a vocabulary of more than 40 words was found in the Calhoun school yard, W. Lake street and Girard avenue S.

AN UNIDENTIFIED man picked him up and gave him to N. P. Thompson, 5254 Emerson avenue S. Thompson fed Timmie a few cracker crumbs and tried to make him comfortable.

Sometime during the night Timmie passed on. Thompson read a story about the lost bird in yesterday’s Tribune and called the Luxtons.

The Luxtons received two other calls.

The first came from a woman on Park avenue who lost her parakeet in July. She extended her sympathy.

The second came from a woman on E. Thirty-eighth street. She found a parakeet a month ago and offered it to the Luxtons. They accepted.

The new parakeet, now called Timmie, 3rd, is a dead ringer for the talkative ex-Timmie.

The Luxtons do not know if the new bird, a little bit smaller than an English sparrow, can talk or not. The original Timmie could say, “What’s cookin’?” and “My name is Timmie Luxton” and “My name is Butchie” and “Timmie is a grandma’s boy.”

WHEN PUSHED too far by someone trying to force conversation from him, he muttered, “Nuts to you, big boy.”

Since Luxton is garden editor of the Minneapolis Tribune, the former Timmie learned to say, “and don’t say paper, say Star and Tribune.”

Late last night, a caller phoned the Tribune city desk to inquire if a reward was offered for the lost parakeet.

Informed Timmie was found and demised, he objected strenuously.

“I’ve got him spotted down here at Sixth street and Tenth avenue S. and he answers the description perfect,” he insisted.

“In fact, he’s pecking away a pink elephant.”

No bird cage in sight: The interior of George Luxton’s home at 138 Arthur Av. SE., Minneapolis, in about 1915. (Photo courtesy mnhs.org)

“What’s new in the dictionary” stories have been a newspaper staple for many years. Today, you’ll find them in abridged form in the Star Tribune’s “Have Your Heard” feature on page one. I spotted this one — 50 years old this week — on the front page of the Minneapolis Star. What’s with the reporter’s attitude about “rock ’n’ roll”? And why did “ploy” – which dates to the 15th century — take so long to be added to the dictionary?

DICTIONARY
GOES ON
THE ROCKS

NEW YORK – (UPI) – They must have shuddered when they did it. But they couldn’t hold out any longer. “Rock ’n’ roll” had to go in the dictionary.

The phrase has jumped into the latest edition of “The American College Dictionary” along with other newcomers such as jet stream, space station, tweeter-woofer, whirlybird, hard sell, ploy, mach, binaural broadcasting, clean (as in bombs), and screwdriver (as in cocktails).