![]() ![]() I was floored to see this glorious photo and instantly thought it looked like a Dundee-Fairacres affair. 68th Ave, along with a little story of how he became acquainted with one of the Rouse boys who lived in this home in the 1960s. He astutely picked up indication from one of my last articles I Wish I Could Have Gone To: The Cave Under the Hill that I would be writing about Rose Lodge in the near future. During this time, by fluky fortune, a reader (operative), named Bill Glaser wrote me an email. ![]() I was not exactly able to pinpoint the location right off. 68th Ave.” What was this? As a sleuth, one must always jot these hints down….and I knew I would want to see if there was still a building at an old address. My opening mystery clue in the ad read “Formerly Rose’s, 230 S. Many of you will recognize it as the home of O’Daniel Honda of Omaha, across the street from Wild Oats Market, now Natural Grocers. The drive from Benson seemed to last an eternity, making it all the more special. My early discovery was the first, official advertisement for Rose Lodge from July 2, 1937, announcing their new location on 79th and Dodge Street. The clues will mount up to something Treacherously Wonderful. Fellow sleuthhounds will know to get out their pads and pencils now, for this article could be a small tome onto itself. Is this new adventure best read over three afternoons or a full week in bed suffering with a spring cold? For myself, I think you should take your time, reading it like chapters in a book, but I will let you make those decisions. She was taught to speed-read and she really cannot kick this dreadful habit.) If you cannot bear my wanderings, you can always skip ahead to Part Two, the Rose Lodge as you might well remember Rose Lodge, but honestly, you will probably find more meanderings there as well. Even Mother of Miss Cassette only reads my every twentieth word. As you by now have picked up, there will be an almost insurmountable pile of irrelevant personal details. I like to play around on side streets and get lost on each trail. I knew we had a mystery to solve.Ī word of warning, however, must be issued to all New Wise Readers. As it turns out, the beloved family fried chicken enterprise wasn’t always so family friendly. As each savory piece of evidence presented itself along this investigation, I soon could not deny that my family favorite had a Very Colorful Past, unbeknownst to me. This Omaha institution was a True Cassette Family Favorite, even from my grandmother’s time. They were known for their ‘secret recipe.’” If by chance you don’t recall, there was always an air of intrigue within the community regarding Rose Lodge’s secret recipe. In the words of Father of Miss Cassette, “The secret was in the flaky crust. And yes, we all recall that I nattered on and on about Bishop’s Buffet fried chicken heretofore For the Love of Bishop’s Buffet: Why, Oh Why, Did They Close? but Rose’s Was Different. Yes, this was one of the very first moments when I realized that fried chicken was a true delicacy, quite different from any home cooked serving before. I know I am not the only one with those keen thoughts. My Dear Watsons, Rose Lodge has been permanently moored in my memory since childhood. Well… you clearly can see how I would fancy my dark wood paneled study and how that might have been the perfect place to pleasurably toil away on my latest mystery. Actually the group of Retrievers could stay on as family members, no longer employed, but most likely the older gentleman presence might have to go after a time because his good-natured, shadow of a wife would surely miss him and I abhor shuffling about in the middle of the night and gargling early in the morning. A guild of Golden Retrievers would also be employed to lay about the gloriously large Persian rug as to subsume all of their good-scented-ness and profuse shedding. It would most surely involve hiring a distinguished man of taste, a spirited centenarian specter to come in and set things up to his liking, arranging leather bound volumes, adjusting brass picture lights on equestrian paintings and turning a weathered, leather globe just so and resting in a crackly chair in old grey suede Hush Puppies, most likely prompting the smoking of a pipe. We don’t really have a wood paneled study that I can haunt about in but if we did, I know exactly how it would look and feel and smell. Eventually the folder was buried like so many of my dead of night epiphanies piled up around this study. I had written Rose Lodge on a manila file folder over a year ago, an early target investigation that I had hoped to explore in my first months at this sleuthing business.
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