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The Unbearable Lightness of Being a Leawoodian

Residents of this posh suburban enclave love their city just the way it is. The problem, though, is that change is inevitable.


By Jack Cashill


At the foot of the French village where I lived some years back, was a pissoir. Yes, Virginia, it is what it sounds like—an only partially enclosed escape valve for the gentlemen of the neighborhood. One day, I chanced to notice the date of its construction. My first thought upon seeing the date was that the pissoir was older than the oldest building in Kansas City. That recognition made me aware of the lightness of my own American being. 

In researching the controversy over a “gigantic mixed-use project” in Leawood, I looked into the history of that fabled town. It turns out that the nicely remodeled pissoir in my Brookside home is older than the oldest building in Leawood. For me, that recognition put the current Cameron’s Court controversy in a fresh light.

The proposed development, from 133th to 135th Street just west of State Line, does not have a whiff of “Section 8” about it. Nor is it spoiling an otherwise pristine environment. Right across State Line on the Missouri side is a complex housing a McDonald’s, a Taco Bell, and, yes, a Walmart. Environments don’t get less pristine than that.

As projected, Cameron’s Court will include 648 luxury apartment units, 26 single-family residences, 12 duplexes, a 100-united assisted living facility, 114,000 square feet of retail, 263,000 square feet of office space, and 20 acres of green space. 

I know Leawood well enough to understand the controversy. For years, I biked the length of Lee Boulevard to access the excellent trail system that winds along the creeks of southern Johnson County. I remember being chagrined some years back when developers deforested a good chunk of the landscape that buffered the trails. Without consulting me, they went on to build Tomahawk Creek Parkway and Town Center Plaza. Total freeloader that I was, I really didn’t expect to have much say, and I got what I expected.

During the 2020 lockdown, I used the trails heavily. Now driving out Leawood Boulevard, I found myself mildly annoyed to have to slow to 25 mph when entering Leawood’s well-marked “Historic District.” I am sure my French friends would find the sign amusing.

Apparently, Indians once lived in the neighborhood, and Daniel Boone “explored the land with French and American traders,” or so the City of Leawood tells us. Before I get to the real history, however, I want to assure the residents that the town was not named after Robert E. Lee. No name changes are in order. 

The Lee in question was Oscar G. Lee, a retired Oklahoma cop who ar-rived in 1922 and bought a major slice of farmland from 79th to 103rd Street and State Line to Belinder Road. Not until 1948, when the Kroh Brothers built a housing complex on the property, did the city of Leawood incorporate. To put that in perspective, I’m older than Leawood is (but just barely).

Walking the trails during the lockdown, I ran into the city’s lovely mayor and her husband about a half-dozen times. During that uncertain/silly period, Peggy and Terry Dunn were my social life. We stood a respectful six feet apart, unmasked, and tried to find something to talk about other than COVID. 

Across State Line from the Cameron’s Court site, you’ll find a McDonald’s, a Taco Bell and a Walmart. Environments don’t get less pristine than that.

On one occasion, I grumpily asked why they were replacing the asphalt on the trails with concrete, concrete being tougher on my basketball-weary knees. Word to the wise: don’t engage Terry Dunn on the subject of concrete. He knows more than you do. Welcoming as she is, Mayor Dunn refrained from telling me to stop bitching or go back where I came from.

Although she doesn’t look it, Peggy has been mayor of Leawood since it first incorporated in 1948. OK, not really, but to her critics, it must seem that way. Peggy recently found herself at the center of the controversy over Cameron’s Court. In early January, after two years of spirited resistance from neighbors and five hours of sometimes heated debate, the City Council approved the development with a 5-4 vote, Mayor Dunn being the deciding “yea” vote.

Much of the resistance to Cameron’s Court—who names these things?—originated in the subdivison just north of its proposed site called Wilshire Place. Let me repeat my question. Who names these things? Wilshire Place, we are told, is a “neighborhood” consisting of 172 homes. 

The “community Web site” brags of the subdivision’s location in Leawood, “one of the fastest-growing cities in Kansas.” Its population “has more than doubled in 25 years to more than 30,000 residents and is expected to reach 40,000 within the next 10-15 years.” These growth statistics, I repeat, are not a complaint. They are a boast.

As progress-minded as the community seems, one could understand the resistance to change of the older, more settled residents of Wilshire Place. But there are no such residents. The development of Wilshire Place did not begin until 2003. It was not completed until 2007. To put that in perspective, my “new” roof is older than the oldest roof in Wilshire Place. 

The nature of the complaints raised at the City Council meeting ranged all over the place. Some people seemed concerned that the added retail would create too much traffic and congestion. Others complained that there would not be enough useful retail. As the VP of the Wilshire Place Homeowners Association put it, Cameron’s Court “doesn’t have anything that’s going to draw the residents of Leawood to it.” Just guessing, but I suspect that the residents just north of Wilshire Place bitched about that development when it was developed less than 20 years ago.

The problem with Leawood is that Leawoodians love it as it is. “Today, with picturesque parks and streets, highly rated schools and welcoming places of worship,” the Wilshire Place community Web site tells us, “Leawood is all that the founders envisioned.” 

No, not quite. I am certain the founders envisioned that the walkways along the creek would remain asphalt.

About the author

Jack Cashill is Ingram's Senior Editor and has been affiliated with the magazine for more than 30 years. He can be reached at jackcashill@yahoo.com. The views expressed in this column are the writer's own and do not necessarily reflect those of Ingram's Magazine.

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