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
Tag: Downtown Omaha
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My obsession with Frank Salontay began quite innocently. I was actually shadowing his short-lived business partner and sometimes rival, hairdresser Robert Siegmann. At one time Siegmann lived in a mansion I began spying when I started the
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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 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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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 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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A few weeks back, four buildings extending the north side of Farnam between 29th and Park Avenue were demolished. Three of the buildings were constructed in the early 1900s, the fourth one purportedly built in 1990. There is no need to squabble,
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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
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I will be honest, it has been a rough winter, both indoors and out. I have always loved winter. A frosty-day detection, sliding around town on icy streets with a camera, notepad and a big Stanley of coffee normally brings me great delight. But
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Allow me to read to you from one of my favorites, Daphne Du Maurier’s Gothic novel, Rebecca: “Last night I dreamt I went to Manderlay again. It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate leading to the drive, and for a while I could not enter, for