Victims Found in Bed, Heads Mashed ~ Green Bay Press-Gazette, May 20, 1930

…It was 1:30 a.m. and Irene Clowry was the other waitress working with Lucille. “Can I help you with anything else?” asked Irene as she watched Birdsall wipe the back grill.

“No, I’ll be retiring soon, but thanks, hon,” said Lucille, always with a smile and soft tone.

That smile and the soft tones would turn to anguish and shrieks in the hours that followed.

Birdsall was in bed with Van Veghel in his room, which was right off the bar on the first level of the Golden Pheasant. She stayed in the upstairs loft. White sheets held them both in a double bed.

It was tucked into the corner beneath the only window, on the south side that faced Willow Street.

Mrs. Cannard Debroux lived next door with her son, Martin Verheygen, nine years old at the time. He would see at that age what no person should ever see in a lifetime.

The bed containing the couple had a metal headboard with bars. Eerie, some would say after the discovery of the couple. The bars should have symbolized the capture of the killer but that would never happen.

A kiss goodnight after Lucille closed up the Pheasant, maybe more, and they were soon sound asleep. John lay on his back. Laying on her right side, Lucille rested her head near his chest with her back along the wall.

Each peaceful breath was one closer to the last. Whatever future they planned together wouldn’t be of this world.

Some said that the two had been secretly married because of religious reasons, but there was no confirmation on this. Jack was a good, giving man and the two together were an attractive couple.

She liked his giving side both with others and with her and Betty Jane.
Just before retiring, she had watched as Jack gave a patron and friend a dime to buy cigarettes.

It would be a dime that Eddie Bodart, onetime Green Bay alderman, would owe Jack for eternity. “We were all shocked. Jack never had any enemies,” Bodart said of the grisly murders.

It didn’t take much to force an entry into the roadhouse.

A swift kick, a shoulder, a shove is all it took to get in. Suddenly, Van Veghel and Birdsall were fighting for their lives. Van Veghel was hardly awake when he gasped his last breath, his eyes fixated on the ceiling.

With an ax or corn sickle in hand, the killer made his way toward the room. He slowly opened the unlocked door and stared at his prey. His eyes widened and pulse pounded while each step brought him closer.

Deep breath sucked in as he stopped and stood over Van Veghel’s head. His left shoulder along the wall, his right arm raised the axe and…