My Omaha Obsession

We have all, at one point or another, wondered about the Castle.

Not the fairy-tale sort. The old Georgia Row apartment building at 1040 South 29th Street that loomed in the Park Avenue neighborhood, looking as though it had been misplaced from another century.

For years I have scattered references to the Castle throughout my writing like breadcrumbs dropped in a dark wood. The story was always there, waiting. Yet I continually pushed it aside. Certain places carry a peculiar weight, and this one carried more than most. Not surprisingly, many others felt the same way. Beneath the questions I often sensed a deeper longing—not merely for a building, but for the people we once were inside it. The Castle convinced generations of tenants that they belonged to a story already in progress.

A true obsession, for the last ten years I have been researching the strange, colorful, occasionally absurd history of the Georgia Row House—the Castle as we knew it. Along the way I encountered gamblers, schemers, and persons whose biographies rarely improved under scrutiny; disappearing landlords; vanished turret roofs; boarding-house dramas; bodies in the river; a Swedish servant's unexpected inheritance; basement dwellers; the woman in the window; brushes with collapse; the Omaha punk scene; and, somehow, against the odds, a happy ending.

The investigation is finally complete.

Or is it?

If you've been around us long enough, you know they are never truly complete. I would sure like to hear from you about your experiences with the building or if you have hidden clues I didn't already cover.

[Link in comments]

Detectives, we have another secret garden, another rabbit hole, another Omaha story concealed just beyond the visible street grid. Tomlinson Woods awaits investigation. If you are new to this FB page or my website adventures: this will be a deep dig. A snack or a drink may be advisable. Comfortable shoes, perhaps even more so.

I began my own investigation with the modest assumption that Tomlinson Woods likely bore some connection to a Mr. Tomlinson. Admittedly, this was not the most dazzling feat of detective work ever attempted. Still, it seemed a respectable starting point. Growing up in Benson, this far western territory scarcely existed in my mental map until the early 1980s.

By the 1950s to 1960s, urban legend had attached itself firmly to the old Tomlinson family property. This time it was not land speculators or society families wandering the woods, but teenagers making late-night pilgrimages in search of the so-called “Albino Farm*,” rumored to lie somewhere deep within the timber near 114th and Pacific. Most expeditions yielded nothing beyond mosquito bites, adrenaline, and the vague conviction that one had nearly discovered something dreadful. Yet the failures only nourished the folklore. Long before the internet became a machine for hysteria, Omaha’s “Albino Farm” mythology traveled efficiently through that older and more durable technology: word of mouth.

*The phrase itself, of course, reflects the vocabulary historically attached to people living with albinism, a genuine inherited genetic condition too often burdened by superstition, isolation, and public ridicule. For the purposes of this investigation, the title remains in quotation marks, preserved less as endorsement than as evidence.

And yet the hidden Tomlinson landscape positively invited mythology. Much like the wardrobe passage in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, the dense wooded ravines and winding trails suggested that something improbable might exist just beyond the next stand of trees. It is not difficult to imagine the ambitious developer who later arrived at the brick-columned entrance, looked into that shaded acreage, and immediately envisioned a gated woodland refuge for Omaha’s prosperous class. The property was eventually transformed into an exclusive subdivision, though not without local controversy surrounding the carefully cultivated forest in which it nestled.

Please click the link below to read the original article on the My Omaha Obsession website:

https://myomahaobsession.com/2019/04/30/through-the-tomlinson-woods/

Today we have a small but interesting case study: 311 South Happy Hollow Boulevard, situated upon Lots 22 and 23, Block 6 of Evanston Addition (those tidy numerals so beloved of municipal order). Lot 23 is to the north, and has always been undeveloped--a tucked-in green scape, concealed by foliage. A lilac bush, trees. We loved the secrecy. Had there been a 309 South Happy Hollow Boulevard at some point? No, not that I could find. The absence of a 309 South Happy Hollow Boulevard is precisely the sort of small civic mystery that invites more speculation than it strictly deserves—and yet, one cannot resist! The principal structure on Lot 22, attributed to George Heidkamp and dated, with a certain postwar optimism, to 1947, stands as a contributing structure within the Dundee / Happy Hollow Historic District. It is, in short, the sort of house that does not shout, but is noticed nonetheless. She is said to be of the Prairie School but I see a MCM brick Colonial with an addition above the garage and many lovely additions in the rear.

Enter, then, the recent architectural intervention: a carriage house erected following a building permit secured in October 2024, to the not inconsiderable sum of $66,240. The property has since undergone a transformation that is as much narrative as it is architectural.

The carriage house—ah, that most romantic of secondary structures—has been executed with a commendable discretion and insinuates itself into the inviting speculation of all passersby: was it always there? The answer, delightfully, is no. But it behaves as though it might have been, which is infinitely more important in this case. The new carriage house looks to be from the 1920s. My goodness, is this carriage house possibly older than the actual house? The structure accommodates a two-car garage, only reached by the alley (we live for alleys) and yet hints at loftier ambitions: an office, perhaps; an art studio for the temperamentally inclined; a guest room for the occasional houseguest who must be both welcomed and contained; even the faint whiff of rental possibilities. Or, if one prefers, a secret retreat—every proper house, after all, ought to harbor at least one. I call ours my pouting room.

What distinguishes this carriage house is not novelty but manners. It is cohesive with its surroundings and possessed of that elusive quality so rarely achieved in contemporary building: historical plausibility. It is the windows. It is the gables. The clean brick and mortar matches up nicely with 307 South Happy Hollow Boulevard, the lovely home to the north, allegedly built in 1927. It is the height of the structure. It is the set back. It is the nonchalance--almost with its back turned. One cannot help but observe that the new carriage house, for all its admirable discretion, exhibits a faintly ambivalent posture toward the public realm. It has, as it were, turned its back—an architectural gesture of studied indifference that is deeply appealing. There is something wonderfully self-possessed about a structure that declines to perform for the street.

(One small obsessive criticism--How shall one put it without sounding ungrateful?—the presence of a front-facing door introduces a note of hesitation. One rather wishes it had committed fully to its aloofness. To turn one’s back is a statement; to half-turn, a compromise. Had it been omitted, the structure might have achieved a purer, more Delicious Defiance: a building entirely uninterested in being approached, admired, or even understood. As it stands, it remains charming and approachable. I know I am being a Miss Cassette on this point.)

Who was the architect of this carriage house? Was this builder designed? Was it owner designed? The garden, too, has been coaxed into collaboration, softening edges and blurring timelines until the ensemble reads as a single, if slightly enigmatic, composition. It is growing as we speak. It will only become more lovely over time. One is tempted to conclude—though not without a raised eyebrow—that the success of 311 South Happy Hollow Boulevard lies precisely in its refusal to declare itself new. It improves, it even amuses. And in a neighborhood where history is both currency and performance, such restraint is not merely admirable; it is, quite possibly, the most stylish gesture of all.

Brava, Miss Carriage House and thank you, Homeowners, for creating something of beauty and a true delight. We love your new carriage house.

Old Market Passageway, near the northeast corner of 11th and Howard. Just a bit about bricks, alleys and steps. The Mercers had acquired two building with a narrow private alley between them. Sam Mercer’s nephew, Nicholas Bonham-Carter, proposed an idea to excavate the alley, the opening of and creation of archways into the basements of the buildings to make it accessible to the public. It is told that upon Sam's return from Europe in 1973, he discovered that Nicholas Bonham-Carter had started the work, in collaboration with Bob Hroch.

They would design open hallways looking out of the once arched windows, to the alley "Passageway" between the buildings, with wooden staircases to the north and a substantial brick staircase to the south. A wooden bridge to look out from. They enclosed the alley with a roof that let the entry of natural light. **This just in--originally it was called The Walk. And later The Covered Street and The Alley** I am glad they settled on the Passageway, as it touches on the portal-like experience for all who enter the first time.

1973 photograph. The camera faces south. Bob Hroch in the foreground bears a striking resemblance to Simon Joyner. Sam Mercer is standing at the far end, in a lovely bowtie, where the brick steps would later be constructed. Apparently either the Howard Street side or the back end (true alley) had an opening. They say that wanderers, called "transients," would tuck away in here and broken wine bottles were everywhere when they began the work. One can observe the short front wall (cinder block--temporary for safety reasons?) where Sam is standing, or I wonder if the back was open.

Mid 1980s photograph. Camera faces south. Trini’s The Mexican Restaurant, where I was employed as a hostess in this time period. A distinguished shop from the Casteel family, The Yellow Ribbon Fabrics and More is seen in the far southwest pocket of the Passageway. The risers for the steps in the Passageway were created by taking a clay impression and producing a mold from the intricately carved woodwork of two large armchairs designed for Dr. Samuel David Mercer (1841-1907) in the early 1880s. Dr. Mercer built and or acquired many of the buildings in the Old Market upon arriving in Omaha, following service as a surgeon during the Civil War. This was Sam Mercer's grandfather, Mark Mercer's great grandfather.

2026 photograph. The pavers on the floor of the Passageway came from the “old red brick road to Blair and Fort Calhoun.”

Historic photos taken by Sam, Mark, and Vera Mertz Mercer. History derived from the writings of Sam Mercer and Nicholas Bonham-Carter. Passageway designed by Sam, Mark and Nicholas.

Welcome to another installment of This Old Basement.

Here is a funny thingamajiggy in our 1941 basement that has brought much simple pleasure. Many Omahans and Midwestern folks with older homes possess these oddities and I’d love to hear from you. Upon buying this house, this section of the basement was one of my favorite mysteries. Antique skeleton keys suspended on nails, here and there, some attached to small brittle leather cords. This vintage cast iron gas two-burner hot plate is located in a space resembling a kitchen-laundry room. It was either constructed on this interesting secure stand or, perhaps, it was included with purchase. There is no manufacturer's label or serial number that I can find. I have also read that these were utilized as outdoor stoves.

When we purchased the house many years ago, friends and family speculated that this hot plate could have been used to boil water for laundry in the 1940s. In the 1940s, burners in a basement laundry configuration could be used to heat water for washing, particularly to boil whites for cleanliness. Apparently automatic water heaters were not in all households. Other suggestions were that this might be the stove of a summer kitchen for the hot, humid months, as the stove is accompanied by an antique refrigerator and a built-in metal deco kitchen cabinet featuring drawers, doors, (with metal and red handles) and a sink, along with distinct wood cabinets above (seemingly from another set?), adorned with charming cherry red stenciled stars. Oh yes, and there is also a cunning 1940s red can opener attached to the wood cabinet. That whole cabinet combo and the stove feel very early 1940s—perhaps too much information but the 'fridge looks very 1950s or early 1960s. The rumpus room in our basement features a striking cherry red linoleum tile with a splattered design, suggesting an effort to achieve aesthetic cohesion between rooms.

I found early on that two older sisters, both single, were the original owners of this house and lived here together for decades. I was also pleased to find that many people engaged in canning in their 1940s basements and these burners would have come to good use, if my house sisters were indeed canners. A large table would have done the trick. I have also found a gajillion shelves in the basement, built in under the front section of our house where it remains cold all year, just perfect for rows and rows of preserves.

I would love to hear your basement stove stories.

We've got a new buddy on the block. Omaha Bagel Company has planted their sign at 5423 Leavenworth Street. The Little House That Could had served as the favorite corner Cottage grocery store for the residents of Dundee-Elmwood decades ago and has hosted various successful enterprises since. Welcome Omaha Bagel Co.!

Please click the link below for the original investigation from 2020. It includes the full history of the building, families and businesses.

https://myomahaobsession.com/2020/04/06/mysteries-of-omaha-5423-leavenworth-street/

The 5120 Mayberry Street Shingle Style residence was my most cherished property in Omaha. I am still haunted by the beauty. There are few hidden, genuine estates remaining in the town and that is a large part of the ache. This article and the four parts that followed were my first true investigative journal and the one where I naively learned how this town works behind closed doors--the operational dynamics of an owner wanting money, developers with an agenda and the city formulating plans. This article has been getting a lot of traction lately on my website and I am not exactly sure why...but maybe more plans are coming.

Click the link to read what happened back in 2016. Also check out the more than 100 comments from neighbors, new and old and city folks trying to understand why we needed more luxury apartments. We didn't even see what was coming.

https://myomahaobsession.com/2016/03/21/mysteries-of-omaha-5120-mayberry-street/

Alexander Payne's 1996 film Citizen Ruth, starring Laura Dern, gave a compelling, sunless reflection of Omaha. I remember seeing it at the Dundee Theater--fun to see each shot, look for the familiar sights and ultimately face a darkened mirror. (A compliment.) Here is a 1996 still of Laura strolling west on the sidewalk in front of the old Dundee Hardware Plus. It was stationed on the southeast corner of 50th and Underwood Avenue at 4949. The cinematographer’s camera was also situated there and caught a glimpse of 1990s Omaha. I do miss that row of awnings across the way.

The Baskin-Robbins ice cream shop offered 31 flavors. You may have heard. I have documented it—my hands-down favorite of the chain. Someone we knew was always working there. I was in love with that drinking fountain. Isn't that weird? It had the iciest water in town and emitted a funny, soothing hum and occasional clunk from its hot-to-the-touch Brutalist bubbler. It was located next to Godfather's Pizza—a steady hit with us tweens and teens, although decidedly not as cool as the Old Market location. The Underwood Bar, a fixture in the area, remains at 4918 to this day. I don't remember what was next door to the east but I'm sure one of you does.


Blue Line Coffee, an essential, took over my beloved Baskin-Robbins. Sometimes I wish I could still smell the bleach and sweet, old milk combo. The incredible Dario’s Brasserie at 4920 Underwood Avenue was in the once Godfather’s bay for many good years. Such a shame to lose that great restaurant in 2022. Underwood Bar, as mentioned, still holding it down. Ooh De Lally at 4916 Underwood upstairs, was once the location of Mark’s Bistro. I appreciate this angle as it reveals the historic foursquare house integrated into the restaurant's Mid-century Modern front. The Better Homes and Gardens Real Estate office is now at 4949 Underwood Avenue, once location of the Dundee Hardware Plus.

Concept derived from Set-Jetter and Film Oblivion combined with my current update.

I hope you all have a beautiful week.

We love you, V. Mertz.

A friend is looking for renters for his beautiful house at 711 Pine Street. Look at these photos. Here's the link:
https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/711-Pine-St-Omaha-NE-68108/75864187_zpid/?view=public&fbclid=IwY2xjawQxBQ5leHRuA2FlbQIxMQBzcnRjBmFwcF9pZBAyMjIwMzkxNzg4MjAwODkyAAEe0llhdkOVXg3x2qIj51FZVA7VSs9mid5AcCyWrTdIm-ciSz06OgoEOOd9Eg4_aem_sq5I-PYjdqq_T6_IfcWkVw

711 Pine Street happens to T intersect with Park Wild Avenue and is touched on as a neighboring property to the 1503 Park Wild Avenue house history that I posted last summer. I will include that story in comments. This is a great neighborhood and I get goosey thinking about living with all this rich history.