This Williamson County Development Is One Woman’s Nightmare And Another Man’s Best-Case Scenario

Change is coming to a lot of backyards in Middle Tennessee, sometimes putting friends and neighbors at odds.

Ruffling feathers in Williamson County is a proposal to turn two massive farms into a dense development of condos, single family residences and a golf course. This is the story of two neighbors with opposing ideas for how to preserve their community. 

Dozens of yellow signs sprout from lawns along a two-lane road. They read: “Say no to mass development ‘Two Farms.'”

A pair of those signs belong to Nancy Leeton, a self-employed insurance agent.

“The people on Coleman Road are screwed,” Leeton says. “I’m sorry, but it’s true.”

Roughly 1,400 new homes are proposed for the development, which spans more than 2,000 acres. And Leeton fears all the cars that will come with it. But strangely enough, the person responsible for this development is a fifth generation Williamson County resident who lives nearby.

Leeton says she feels betrayed.

“He is a longtime Franklin person, as I am. And just to purposely go out and try and destroy our little area is not fathomable to me,” Leeton says.

And it’s unfathomable to many of her neighbors as well. Besides traffic, they worry about land preservation, the eagles nesting on one property and keeping the country, the country
.

The guy they’re mad at is Paul Pratt Jr., a local business owner. Recently he and Leeton faced off at a meeting.

“When I turned to Paul Pratt, I, quite frankly, told him that I was ashamed to say that I even knew him,” Leeton recalls.

Pratt, though, says he “didn’t get involved in a project trying to divide this area.”

Driving in his black SUV surveying the development site, which is right in his backyard, too, Pratt laments the rancor the development has caused.

“I know most of the people against this project. They are friends of mine,” he says. “I’ve got little old ladies that I’ve known since I was a kid mad at me.”

It’s been a lot harder than he imagined being involved in project like this in the town he’s called home all his life. On Facebook, rumors spread of corruption and money grubbing. Pratt says none of it is true. He did recruit the developer when he saw the land for sale. And he has invested $40,000. But he says it’s a pittance compared to the $150 million price tag.

“Does it hurt to see those yellow signs that say ‘No Two Farms,’ ” Pratt says. “I drive this road every night and I have for 16 years and it really hurts to see that.”  

Pratt says he’d love nothing more than to keep the land rural. He just doesn’t see that happening, and he worries what some other developer might do.

“My position is: If this doesn’t happen and someone else comes in, I don’t know that I’ll live out there anymore,” he says. 

Pratt’s last resort of leaving may be what fundamentally separates him from some of his neighbors like Leeton. Her grandfather gave her the acre of land she lives on, and she swore she would never move.

“My grandparents were very, very, very good to me,” Leeton says. “But I made a promise to him, and I won’t break it.”