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
Tag: W. Dale Clark Library
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I found the letter placed on my desk. The envelope had been tidily cut open with a paper knife, its contents, a single sheet, still crisply folded inside. I presumed this was Mr. Cross’s passive way of letting it be known that he’d like to
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Every now and then I receive a letter in the office that just stirs me and gives goosey bumps. The following is one of those electric memos. The writer’s quandary is a mystery for all those Hanscom Park Neighborhood kiddies of long ago, Omaha
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Jay Malkin wrote in to the Miss Cassette Detective Agency a while back. No longer living in town, Jay was trying to track down his father’s drugstore once at the southwest corner of 24th and Leavenworth and it was in that initial hunt that I
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Dear Detective Friends, tomorrow, March 2, 2021, My Omaha Obsession is celebrating a five year birthday. My, how time has flown by! To walk round the city with you these last five years has been a perpetual delight. I can always count on you to
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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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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
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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 was last May that my passion for 56th Street, on the fringe of the Country Club District, developed into an obsession. On special assignment, I had snuck to see if I could uncover the Archie Love summer home, just a side note, really, to
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I wish I could recapture a bit more from my child’s eye view of the large, Asian house. The memory is a tissue thin scrim of standing by the railed porch with my father and his friends, awaiting entrance to a blurred art opening. The ambiguous