Journalist Timothy G. Turner was nursed in a newsroom and when he grew up, found that the only smell he liked better than printer’s ink was the sawdust and spit of a barroom. His father, Willis Hall Turner, “my pal” as Tim called him, died in March 1906 when Tim was a teen, after which he “was obliged to go to work in earnest” as a reporter, for the Grand Rapids Herald. His role as a cub reporter on the prowl for stories landed him in a gypsy camp where he was smitten by a young gypsy queen who taught him some of her Canaries Island Spanish.