Hello and welcome! Dear Detective Friends, today, March 2, 2020, My Omaha Obsession is celebrating a four-year birthday party online. We have grown so much this year and I want to thank each and every one of you for that. You have really spread
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It was last May that my passion for 56th Street, on the fringe of the Country Club District, developed into an obsession. On special assignment, I had snuck to see if I could uncover the Archie Love summer home, just a side note, really, to
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I will admit, I have an obsession with cobblers and tailors. These craftsmen’s workrooms were occasionally visited on Saturday errands when I was young and from those brief but memorable interactions, it was their particular scent that
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To flute or to coupe one’s champagne? These are the contemplations on the Eve of the Eve. I do love these eves of the eve–always with the hope and excitement of an innocent. This year I woefully secured our New Year’s reservations months
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Our little house is much bigger than you would think from the city sidewalk, busy sidewalk out front. This is as it should be. You alight at the modest front door and look up at this charming, old box of a place, hidden from the road behind a
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A shaded, tree-lined lane is such a handsome thing. I like to linger and dream and poke around, especially in these older Omaha neighborhoods, designed to be strolled. I realize, as do you, that every home has a history and delicious secrets
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A little bird had tipped me to the soon-to-be demise of seven homes on Pacific Street extending from 84th to 87th. –that strip of mostly classic ranches on the south side, leading down to the lights at Countryside Village and Westside
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I shall never forget the thrill I had when I first saw a photograph of the darkened Cudahy Mansion. It was a pleasant, summer day and had been invited to an intimate noon gathering. Let us pretend this was a get-together with Miss Cassette’s
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It may come as no surprise to many that 1219 Pacific Street was torn down a few days ago. To those making the rounds, she might have served only as a corner cue in a Last-Minute-Louie to the Downtown Post Office. Certainly when the Sexy Dwell
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I was sitting in the office rambling at length about upcoming investigations, all the while Mr. Cross resentfully sighing and taking dictation, when the dispiriting correspondence came in. My recent examination of a Gold Coast ballroom and the