At the detective agency, we have been preoccupied in recent years with the Dollhouses of Omaha. Tonight’s collection of structures is reminiscent of the miniature world, embodying a delightful, visually appealing quality that prompts the viewer
Tag: 1940s Omaha
-
-
It happened like this. I rushed through the office and asked, “Where did the photograph from 9402 Pacific Street go to?” As I shuffled through a stack of manilla file folders, my coffee stained case notes and recently delivered mail, I pleaded
-
When we last gathered in October, we had a delicious time sifting through the early chronology of our obsession, 9402 Pacific. A mysterious presence, 9402 Pacific has, as long as any of us remember, displayed quiet walls—a kind of beautiful,
-
Calling all Mister Daddy-Os and Miss Cool Kittens. The drugstore’s jukebox jumpin’ but right now and not later, babies! Gather ‘round the soda fountain and let me tell you a story of Sparkle Moore, the rockabilly singer from Omaha. Just out of
-
When we last dispersed and everyone was tucked into bed, I ventured out alone in the darkness. I pressed on, searching, as the Hidden House’s Byzantine plot swirled with other smoky ringlets in the air. I hope you can excuse my secret beat. I
-
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
-
Years ago, when I had first hired Mr. Cross to address my messes in the detective office, attend to telephone calls and handle my mailings and such, he placed an opened, pale blue envelope on the ol’ tanker in a la-de-da manner. With
-
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
-
For all of my years working at the antiques store, I never found the hidden portal in the back of the giant wardrobe or that coveted, inner panel toward the bottom of a steamer trunk. It was not for the want of trying. Some of you will
-
Early in the 1940s, racing “a murky sky between showers, five cars of Omahans, four to a car, went treasure hunting,” under the direction of Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Stocker. The Stocker couple, no doubt, enjoyed hosting themed parties, as was the