I received a mysterious night telegram from 9402 Pacific Street, possibly emitted from the warning trees, which caused me to hurry up to the property without delay. I cannot be sure how I got there, but I had cast off my thick Hudson and bed
Tag: 1970’s Omaha
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It is true that these new boxy buildings popping up around town have made fast friends– and enemies too. Like the new girl in junior high, some of us are drawn to novelty and uniqueness. We are refreshed with a new perspective and are
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Architectural detectives, real estate devotees and those still astir at 3:00 am, let us gather. The focus of our obsession today will be the veiled and inspiring 3217 South 101st Street. A work of art in and of itself, this Contemporary
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As I had mentioned in Park Avenue Recollection, when I first saw the building at 501 Park Avenue, evidently, I took no great interest in it. Carelessness on my part but there were many eyefuls in the surrounding neighborhood, which claimed my
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I will openly confess, I began to dig for McKinney leads and their Hidden House property with a sort of preconceived inclination. I suppose that was biased of me. My desire was that the newest couple to own 1023 South 96 Street would be Omaha’s
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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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Every now and then I drive along Northwest Radial where it curves into Military Avenue to inspect the Benson of my childhood. Just to make sure everything is still in order, I suppose. I find it is all pleasingly up to snuff, starting many doors
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My friend and I liked to ride the Omaha city bus to all sorts of mysterious places when we were young. I know now it was a good education in the different parts of Omaha and a great study in people watching. I’d like to think that our parents
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I was on my merry way into my newest Byzantine investigation at the W. Dale Clark Library when I happened upon the old club fenced in, like a wayward jailbird or some unruly cattle pen. My heart lifted for a split minute, imagining a resplendent
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When Mike Brady was toiling away in his architect’s home office, I imagined he was designing a home just like today’s focus. Usually hunched over his draftsman table, busy but not particularly bothered by his children’s constant interruption, it