A Missing Middle Breakthrough In Heartland USA: Vision, Grit, Toilets

Familiar with The Butterfly Effect?

Here's an example, taken directly from the modern, real-world, in-real-life annals of housing affordability and its most significant ongoing challenges.

A few decisive minutes at a property auction, $2,000 Japanese toilets, a forward-thinking mayor, and an experienced urban developer set in motion a Butterfly Effect chain of forces that led to the launch of one of the country’s first walkable neighborhoods, made up entirely of “missing middle housing.”

This serendipity transformed Papillion (coincidentally, another word for butterfly), a suburb of Omaha, NE, into a model for communities aiming to build missing middle housing.

Next to Lake at Prairie Queen, a diverse array of housing has sprouted in a walkable community, following a plan by architect Dan Parolek, who coined the term “missing middle housing” and founded Opticos Design.

In 2020, the project earned the National Association of Home Builders’ Best in American Living Award for rental multifamily developments up to three stories. It has 456 completed units, with two additional phases planned for another 250 units.

It looks like a neighborhood,” Mayor David Black says. “And the neighborhood looks like our old turn-of-the-century neighborhoods in Omaha—your old houses, cottages, bungalows, duplexes, triplexes.”

Since the COVID-19 pandemic exacerbated housing shortages and underscored affordability issues, state and city leaders nationwide have advocated for the revival of duplexes, triplexes, fourplexes, and other mid-density housing types.

Increasingly, a popular solution is to shift back to the era before single-family zoning eliminated these options. However, homeowners and elected officials are often resistant to these changes. A prime example is the Connecticut governor’s veto of a bill that would have brought missing middle housing to the state.

While the country’s largest cities are searching for ways to bring back this housing—especially in urban areas—Papillion demonstrates that success is possible in a suburban setting with the right vision and support.

To see one of our most innovative developer projects happening in Nebraska is always still a surprise to me,” Parolek says. “I love to see that, and the fact that it’s happening there makes it easier to use as a model, because it’s more relatable than a coastal project or a high-value market.”

Although the Papillion development by Omaha’s Jerry Reimer is currently rental, Mayor Black says the model could eventually produce a for-sale product.

We’re working on a smaller-scale project with the same developer, using design concepts from these buildings,” Black says. “And we’re doing it in a way where he could sell a building if someone wants to buy a duplex, triplex, or fourplex.”

Laying the Foundation

Papillion, with a population of about 24,000, is an unlikely place for a missing middle housing showcase. Founded in the 1870s as a railroad town, it expanded with typical suburban sprawl—wide, meandering streets and cul-de-sacs designed for cars, not feet.

We had single-family homes and large-scale apartments, but nothing in between,” Black says. “In traditional developments, neighborhoods are often segregated by price.”

Roughly two decades ago, Papillion unintentionally set the stage for missing middle housing by becoming an early adopter of design standards in the Omaha area. City leaders held firm, even as some developers threatened to take projects elsewhere.

The developers realized we weren’t going to compromise,” Black says. “We started attracting developers who would exceed our design standards, confident their investments would be protected.”

The city also prioritized parks and urban forestry, resulting in an abundance of green space. Papillion takes special pride in its recreational assets, particularly around Lake at Prairie Queen.

The area also features Werner Park—home to the Omaha Storm Chasers, the AAA affiliate of the Kansas City Royals—a fifteen-minute walk from the new neighborhood. The park opened in 2011, replacing Rosenblatt Stadium, which had been the long-time home of the College World Series.

Growth near the lake brought new housing, but it was converging with older industrial zones near Interstate 80, where little planning had previously occurred.

After the construction of a regional dam, the Nebraska Natural Resources District deemed land beside Lake at Prairie Queen surplus in 2015 and auctioned it off.

City leaders sought something distinctive for this land and envisioned a project that would serve as a transition for the changing area.

Developer with Deep Roots

When developer Jerry Reimer attended the auction, he initially planned not to buy the available land. He hoped to persuade the winner to carve out 10 acres for apartments.

Reimer brought a wealth of experience in middle housing, rooted in family history. His father, a drywall contractor with limited retirement savings, purchased a modest fourplex as an investment.

It was a catalyst,” Reimer says. “That was my introduction to small buildings.”

The family managed and maintained the buildings themselves. Reimer was hands-on from the start, mowing lawns and painting the rentals.

To expand, the family needed more money. Reimer hatched a plan to work abroad for a company that would cover his housing expenses, and he would send his savings back to purchase more rentals.

After a stint studying and working in Tokyo, he returned to Omaha and, with his family, assembled a portfolio of small apartment buildings—what Parolek would later term “missing middle” housing.

During the 2008-2009 financial crisis, Reimer and a partner bought 380 units of middle housing in six Omaha city blocks. Buying those places meant a lot of rehabbing and hands-on work.

He built a 15-unit development in the suburbs, adjacent to missing middle housing types, to gain his first experience with new construction. Then, Reimer built a 200-unit suburban apartment property, finding that building new was much easier than buying an old property and rehabbing it.

Despite success with larger projects, Reimer remained passionate about small-scale buildings.

At the Papillion land auction, his financial partner encouraged him to bid.

 I’m terrified because I don’t know what it’s zoned; I don’t know the master plan,” Reimer says.

Spotting the mayor in the crowd, he asked about apartment zoning, but Black—initially thinking Reimer had standard apartments in mind—said no.

That's not unique, that's not transitional,” he says.

After Reimer explained his idea for missing middle housing, Black called the city’s planning director, who grasped the idea immediately. Black told Reimer yes on the concept, all happening after just a few minutes of conversation.

It helped that Black also vaguely remembered a 10-year-old newspaper story about Reimer putting $2,000 Japanese toilets in the 200-unit apartment building.

Who puts $2,000 Japanese toilets in apartment units?” Black says. “For some reason, that stuck with me.”

For Black, that gave Reimer credibility that he would build a unique, quality project.

Commitment to Quality: The $2,000 Toilets

Driven by his core values, Reimer’s commitment to quality became a hallmark of the project.

The expensive toilets epitomize Reimer’s philosophy, shaped by core values developed by his parents: treat every property like you own it, and don’t buy anything you wouldn’t want to live in yourself.

The toilets feature heated seats, air dryers, and a bidet function. While hosting Japanese exchange students, a chaperone told him that the Japanese students thought Americans were barbarians after having to use regular toilets in other homes.

Reimer decided not to compromise.

I said forget the budget, I'm sticking to my core values, I'm leaving the toilets in,” Reimer says.

Turning a Concept into a Plan

Securing the land was just the start. He needed a full-fledged plan.

With ownership in hand, he had to come up with a plan for the Prairie Queen project.

A chance encounter at a regular breakfast spot and time, where people can stop in and ask Reimer questions and get advice, led him to meet Parolek, who grew up in a small town in Nebraska.

He and Parolek drove through an old Omaha neighborhood to the Dundee neighborhood for ideas. Three miles west of downtown, the neighborhood is considered the city’s first suburb and was the last stop on the trolley from downtown.

During the drive, Reimer pointed out a variety of housing types that people from different economic strata lived in.

Parolek’s vision led to a plan for a development with just street parking, no parking lots. Buildings were designed in a Tudor style to tie the architecture into the region’s history, Parolek says, “doing so in a way that is buildable financially for our client in a market-rate multifamily project.”

Since the project was developed outside existing neighborhoods, it didn't draw the usual questions and opposition that apartment projects typically receive as they go through the entitlement process. At this point, if the city wants to develop closer to neighborhoods, whether for rent or for sale, it has a real-life model to show residents and elected officials.

It has helped frame the development conversation now," Black says. When people say missing middle, it's not a nebulous conversation."

He says the city is looking at creating pocket neighborhoods with missing middle housing.

The only major challenge came from the city's public works department, the city engineer, and the fire marshal, who objected to the narrower streets that Parolek intentionally includes in plans to make the neighborhood pedestrian-friendly.

Black and the planning director wouldn’t let standards supersede design.

They authorized the developer to raise a red flag to the planning director and the mayor if feedback from professional staff started to compromise the design. They would then sit down and work through the conflict.

In the end, the development became a place where the incomes of tenants mixed across different building types, which had outside entrances and weren't segmented by unit price or size.

The $50,000-a-year person is living next door and walking on the same sidewalk as the $200,000 or $250,000-a-year income,” Reimer says. “We didn’t set out to create it, but the social bridges at the bungalows on the lake are a direct result of copying an old neighborhood.”