It happened like this. I rushed through the office and asked, “Where did the photograph from 9402 Pacific Street go to?” As I shuffled through a stack of manilla file folders, my coffee stained case notes and recently delivered mail, I pleaded
Tag: World War II
-
-
When we last gathered in October, we had a delicious time sifting through the early chronology of our obsession, 9402 Pacific. A mysterious presence, 9402 Pacific has, as long as any of us remember, displayed quiet walls—a kind of beautiful,
-
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
-
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
-
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
-
At last meeting, we had assembled for unpardonable diversion and it was divine. Veiled Mystique! Intrigue! The Hidden House on the Hill! We couldn’t help but obsess in our growing group of detectives. Cloaked in dark tweed and a good deal of
-
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
-
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
-
A shaded, tree-lined lane is such a handsome thing. I like to linger and dream and poke around, especially in these older Omaha neighborhoods, designed to be strolled. I realize, as do you, that every home has a history and delicious secrets
-
I shall never forget the thrill I had when I first saw a photograph of the darkened Cudahy Mansion. It was a pleasant, summer day and had been invited to an intimate noon gathering. Let us pretend this was a get-together with Miss Cassette’s