When our team first started talking about pursuing the Kansas City International Airport Project, it was a long shot by any measure. Airports are among the most complex development projects in the world, and the firms that build them are typically a small group of specialists with decades of aviation-specific experience. We had never built an airport, and there was already a well-established local team in the running.

The city had put out an RFP, and a few voices on our team felt strongly that we should shoot our shot and put a proposal together. On paper, we had no business being in the conversation. But our entire history as a company had been defined by exactly this, walking into something we'd never done before and delivering. Every signature project in our portfolio was a first for us at the time. The airport felt like the next chapter of the same story. So we wrote our proposal, submitted it, and waited to hear back.

A few months later, I got a call asking me to fly to Kansas City for an announcement. The next morning, the selection committee walked into the city manager's office, where there was an easel in the corner with a sheet draped over it. They pulled off the sheet, and our logo was on the board. It was one of the most exciting moments in our company's history, and in many ways, a defining one.

That project became the largest infrastructure project in Kansas City's history and was ultimately delivered early, under budget, and in the top half of one percent of mega-projects worldwide. 

What Every Project Has in Common

One of the things I've come to realize over the years is that roughly 85% of what a developer does is the same, regardless of what you're building. Managing architects, structuring financing, getting permits, working with the community, coordinating stakeholders who don't always agree, solving problems under pressure and keeping a complex effort moving forward on time and on budget. Whether it's a courthouse, a university campus, an airport, or a hockey rink, that core work doesn't change.

The remaining 15% is what's specific to the building type, the programmatic requirements of a courthouse versus a civic center, the regulatory landscape of a federal facility versus a municipal project, the user groups, the operational demands, the technical systems. That part matters, and you can't fake your way through it. But it's something you can bring in through the right partners. 

When we pursued KCI, we brought on an architect who had designed airports and we had Clark, who had built them. They brought the aviation expertise, and we brought the development leadership, financial structuring, and stakeholder coordination that we've spent our careers refining. It's how we've always operated, and it's a recipe that's worked.

A History of Firsts

The airport wasn't the first time we took on something new. Looking back, it's actually been the pattern throughout our entire history as a company.

One of our earliest projects was a transportation corridor. Then came higher education campuses, K-12 facilities, courthouses, a neuroscience center, a civic center, an innovation hub, and a hockey rink in South Dakota. Almost every time, it was a project type we hadn't done before. And each time, the question we asked ourselves was the same: do we know how to lead a complex development process, structure the right deal, and deliver for the client?

What we've found over the years is that working across this many different contexts has made us better at each new one. A financing approach from a university project shows up in how we structure a civic deal. A stakeholder process we refined on a federal building informs how we coordinate a municipal project. Those connections wouldn't exist if we'd spent our careers doing the same type of project over and over. The lessons travel, and they compound.

And some of these projects have ended up being personal in ways we could never have predicted. My son grew up playing hockey from the time he was five years old, so getting to build a rink for a college program and then drop the puck at the opening game was one of the coolest things I've experienced in my career. Jamie and I both grew up in Falls Church, Virginia, and our kids got to attend a middle school we helped build together. When your kid asks what you do for a living and you can point to the building they're sitting in, that changes how you think about the work. It stops being a project on a spreadsheet and becomes something that's part of your life and your community in a way that's hard to describe.

Those are the moments that remind us how fortunate we are, and why taking on something new has never felt like a risk to us. It's just what we do.

What It All Adds Up To

None of this was planned. We never sat down and decided to become one of the most diversified development teams in the country. It happened one project at a time, one yes at a time, because the opportunity in front of us was worth pursuing and we believed we could deliver.

But looking back, I think that willingness to keep stepping into new territory has shaped us in ways that go beyond any single project. Every new challenge forced us to learn, adapt, and get better. Every unfamiliar building type pushed us to assemble the right partners. And every successful outcome gave us the confidence to raise our hand the next time.

People sometimes ask what makes us different. I've given a lot of answers to that question over the years, from our financial creativity to our track record to the way we stay involved long after delivery. All of that is true. But if I'm being honest, I think the simplest answer is that we've never been afraid to take on something we haven't done before. And so far, that's worked out pretty well for us and our clients.