I thought I had caught a lucky break back in 2015. A remodeling of the Beverly Hills Plaza at 78th and Dodge exposed a large ghost sign had been perfectly sealed underneath the strip mall’s eastern façade. I snapped away at the hand-painted
Tag: Mr. Cassette
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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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Omahans near and far, sleuths, snoops and the merely curious, thank you for meeting with us again. This is Part Two of the Hidden House series. If you have not yet read Hidden House Part One, here is the link to get you started. Mysteries of
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Hello dear friends, I am so glad we have gathered together again. As the Guy Lombardo song goes, “Seems like old times, having you to walk with. Seems like old times, having you to talk with.” I am always glad to share our special time and let
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I have always felt that winter was the absolute best time of year for house spying, what without all of the beautiful, interfering foliage, the disturbing undergrowth, the distracting flowers, all forms of plant life that normally wink and
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If one had been in the desperate habit of falling deeply in love with unattainable brick English country homes, the great beauty settled at 1111 South 90th Street would have long ago proposed a perilous catch. I say perilous only because loving
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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. If you had happened to meander down the lane,
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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