Today’s investigation is just a brief wandering into some recent ruminations. I’ve been thinking a lot about the long-razed TraveLodge motel on the northwest corner of 39th and Dodge and was pleasantly surprised when I came across a postcard of
Tag: My Omaha Obsession
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Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This is Miss Cassette, speaking to you from the Field Club Historic Neighborhood. I am told they used to hold magic shows, called Mystery Seances, at 3316 Center Street in the old days. The Field Club
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We’ve all wondered about 412 North 96th Street. The imposing fortress of a house on 1.6 flat felled acres stands on the outer rim of Regency. Austere and mysterious, what is possibly most unusual about 412 North 96th Street is that no
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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
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Hello, my friends and welcome. It is that time of year again and we are celebrating another anniversary—a birthday of sorts. My Omaha Obsession is now seven years old. This is an unpardonable distraction on your Thursday night but a lazy March
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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
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Friends, this is not an investigation about a great mossy building. Warning! Warning! We have now entered a nightmare world of contemporary times. If you’ve gathered with us for a long while then you already know that I wish my architectural
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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
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Early on the morning of Tuesday, August 17, 2021 I was startled to see an excavator tearing down our little Morton Meadows Mystery property at 42nd and Marcy. I had noted the strange pile of broken concrete in the front garden days (weeks?)
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In high school I thought it peculiar that Omaha’s Park Avenue, perceivably a street of once high standing, was so far removed from its namesake. I had assumed it aspired to New York City’s Park Avenue. Our Park Avenue ran north-south (still
