Dear Friends and Fellow Amateur Detectives, As I sit in my office on this dark, drippy day, I am happy to announce the My Omaha Obsession: Searching for the City book is now out and available for purchase. Those of
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There is no chance for creeping on North 89th Circle without a tinge of house-stalking shame. If you are not endowed with thick skin or wearing a very good disguise, don’t even think about turning off of Burt Street. But here I am to entice. The
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PRE-ORDER BOOK To order from University of Nebraska Press (UNP), click here. To order from Amazon, click here.
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This particular house fixation of ours, if you like to call it such, becomes a real drawback for an unsuspecting driver. Sometimes I fancy Mr. Cassette my driver but that’s only because he insists on driving us everywhere. He really is an
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I have been told there was once a dark mansion, somber but rich. Enclosed in dense trees and shrubs, this unapproachable beauty was settled within the wood of a hill overlooking Leavenworth Street. The Mansion in the Trees. If you had happened
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There I was pleasantly chiseling away at an uphill investigation when a My Omaha Obsession reader notified the office of a dubious plot afoot on South 50th Street in Dundee. A local, Dave Schinzel, had recently initiated a petition apprising
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Miss Cassette will not be guiding a tour through a dream portal nor a wardrobe today, although my beloved Omaha has walked this historic path many times before any of us were born. I ask that we join together, here amidst the confusion and pain
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There is a worn 1963 photograph I had stashed away in a tissue-y sleeve in my desk for this very day. The image revealed the long ago, northeast corner of 15th and Howard, a building no longer standing. On the whole, fictitious. Like a Jim
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Here in the detective office, just as at home, I like to keep up appearances, if for no one but myself. The mishmash of a period-imbued backdrop fans my little dream, nudged along by the likes of Ethel Waters and Scrappy Lambert and his Colonial
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The Miss Cassette Detective Agency had suddenly sprung into being one day in a rented, 1940s furnished office enshrouded in Midtown. My objective was to handle and solve the closed book architectural cases with which I was perplexed and couldn’t