A Legacy of Luxury
The inside story of one elegant estate that helped shape the city.
George Laham walks through a long-abandoned house in Wilson Estates. Today, the bedrooms sit empty, and the house is utterly silent. Still, small traces of the building’s former grandeur remain. A bronze chandelier hangs from a tall ceiling in the green and white-tiled entryway. A hand-painted mural depicts the French countryside. A wall-length window looks out on a greenhouse nicknamed “Lady Fair.”
“You can almost picture the home’s past elegance,” says Laham, as he peers out the sun room’s window.
At one time, the land consisted of open countryside and polo grounds. For decades, this was the epicenter of elegance and panache in Wichita. The likes of Ed Bradley, Willis L. Hartman and Claude Lambe rode the stretching fields on horseback. Equestrians flocked from across the country to visit the land’s stables. Even as late as the ’80s, Rock Road was a two-lane road lined with trees and pasture.
Of course, the landscape dramatically changed over time. The city grew, and the land grew with it. Upscale shops and restaurants sprouted up. Tourists flocked to the area. Homeowners and businesses planted roots.
Yet the barren house stood as a reminder of what once was and what came to be.
The Beginning of an Era
He was from Bolivar, New York. She was from Lee’s Summit, Missouri. They met in New York City, married in Missouri and settled in Wichita during the early ’30s. Like so many others, the couple came to Kansas looking to strike oil. After living in the city for a short time, they built a barn on a patch of land just east of town. As they spent more time there, the farm expanded until the prairie became home. Bradley Farms was born.
Ed and Louise Bradley carved out their corner of Wichita during a time of drought and depression. Over time, the successful oilman bought three parcels of land that totaled 320 acres, where they added a tennis court, polo fields and the second pool ever built in Wichita. Bordering the land were the stretching estates of Willis L. Hartman, Claude Lambe and some of the area’s most recognizable names. Such a sight is hard to imagine now. “You have to get out past Andover to see what it looked like back then,” says Bob Wilson Jr., great-nephew of the Bradleys.
For more than three decades during the mid-20th century, this was the site of polo matches. “It started when Willis Hartman was on a cruise and struck up a conversation with a man wearing a polo shirt and boots,” says Barbara Waddell, great-niece of the Bradleys. “He brought him back to Wichita to start a polo team, and he got all of his oil friends to join.” During these matches, women gathered near the field to watch their husbands compete. During the ’50s, they tailgated in a nearby field.
Such a scene was the very picture of luxury and leisure. With this in mind, Beechcraft staged photoshoots at Bradley Farms. “Aunt Louise and Olive Ann Beech were best friends, so if Olive Ann needed a photoshoot, then they’d fly into the polo grounds and taxi to the house or the pool,” says Bob Jr. The resulting black and white photos depict people swimming in a pool or fishing in a pond with planes sitting nearby. The Bradleys also hosted celebrities, such as actor Robert Cummings, when they visited the local aviation companies. “When they came in to do their flight safety training, they stayed at the farm because there was an apartment there,” recalls Barbara.
That is, until one night in 1953, when the Bradleys awoke to the smell of smoke and the barks of their Collies, Honey and Skipper. An electrical fire had caused the home to burst into flames. “They had just emptied the pool, and there was nowhere to get water,” says Barbara. “They watched it burn to the ground.” That night, the family lost many valuable works of art, though firemen salvaged less valuable items like the bedding.
In rebuilding, the Bradleys created a 9,000-square-foot, English-style home with an entryway inspired by Monticello. “When it was finished, everything was done up quite nice,” says Bob Jr., who lived in the house for many years. The two-bedroom house had a formal dining room with hand-painted wallpaper depicting the French countryside. A large sun room with a fountain and wall-length window provided a scenic setting to enjoy sunrises. “You didn’t have to be there very long to hear a bird hit that window,” Bob Jr., recalls with a laugh, adding that most of the birds recovered several minutes later.
He has fond recollections of visiting the estate as a child. “Uncle Ed had this modified Volvo that we called The Jolly,” he recalls. “My brother, Brad, and I would go out at night with friends in the Jolly and play tag using the car’s headlights. The only problem was that the seeds from the grass filled up the radiator, so we usually ended up pushing it back to the house.” Bob Jr. also recalls jumping into the pool from the pool house roof, something Louise heavily frowned upon. “Uncle Ed used to pay us $10 just to jump off that roof to get Aunt Louise going,” says Barbara.
Years later, the pool house was the site of one of Bob Jr.’s funniest memories. “The pool was east of the polo field, so teenagers would often pull up near the property, walk along the railroad, jump the fence and go skinny dipping,” he says. One night, Bob Wilson Sr. decided to do something about it. An avid shooter, he loaded his shotgun with Cream of Wheat and gunpowder, so it appeared like a flamethrower when he pulled the trigger. He then camped out on the roof one night with his son to scare off any unwelcome guests. Wilson’s hunch was right. “My dad woke me up around midnight and whispered, ‘Wake up, they’re here,’” recalls Bob Jr. “Then he stood up and shouted, ‘Stop, in the name of the law!’ and began firing.” Of course, they didn’t stop. The teens fled the scene while still naked by running through briars and back along the railroad tracks. “I can just imagine the cuts and scrapes they had the next day,” Bob Jr., says with a chuckle.
Beginning around 1960, Ed’s health diminished after a series of heart attacks. He was no longer able to play polo. “He would get physically ill while watching the horses and not being able to ride,” recalls Barbara. “That’s when we got rid of the horses.”
Ed died in 1969, and Louise continued to live on the estate. She spent her days visiting with family and friends, tending chickens and working in her greenhouse. “I don’t know how much of a green thumb she was, but she kept herself busy,” says Bob Jr. Eight years after her husband’s passing, Louise died.
She willed the property to her great nephews and nieces—Bob Jr., Brad and Barbara Wilson. “It actually skipped a generation,” says Barbara. “But it’s like my father always said, ‘If I want it, my kids will give it to me.’” The following year, the Wilsons moved into the farmhouse. With them came a new era in the home’s history.
A New Chapter
Bob Sr. always looked up to his uncle. “My father tried to emulate Ed in many ways,” says Barbara. “Their personalities were so big that it’s hard to contain in words.” Bob Sr., was deaf in one ear, so his words carried across the entire farm when he spoke. He was a strict but loving father, and he often taught his children life lessons by telling stories. Barbara recalls one tale in particular about Sheltie, a dog that went everywhere with Bob Sr. At one time, Sheltie would cross Rock Road to eat cat food at some nearby apartments. “Dad would admonish Sheltie and say, “It’s not that I don’t want you to eat cat food and live the life; it’s just I want you to live,’” says Barbara. “He would tell us that story and say, ‘God teaches us lessons in the same way. It’s not that He doesn’t want us to enjoy life; it’s just that He wants us to be safe.’”
After taking over the land, Bob Sr. christened the land Wilson Farms and quickly took stock of the estate. “It had fallen into disrepair for some time, so we decided to get things going again,” says Bob Jr. The family purchased cattle and began baling hay from a pasture.
Bob Sr., who owned a quarter horse named Tony, gradually began getting more involved in equestrian eventing as his daughter-in-law took up competitive riding. After his granddaughter, Becky, began riding ponies, the Wichita Pony Club moved to the estate. “He would do anything for those kids,” says Barbara. “That’s really how the resurgence of activity moved to our place.” Wilson began boarding horses on a portion of the land that he dubbed Red Brush Farms. He added horse jumps and trails that snaked across the fields and creeks. “It just grew from there, and it became quite a recognized facility,” says Bob Jr.
During the early ’80s, Red Brush Farms grew into a nationally rated equestrian course. Twice per year, more than 600 people from across the nation gathered in east Wichita for eventing, three days of equestrian contests. Decades after Ed Bradley first began playing polo with Willis L. Hartman and Claude Lambe, the land was again filled with horses
and riders.
Even as late as the mid-’80s, Wilson Farms was a serene setting. The family fished in Bradley Lake, hunted doves and quail, and rode horses while the rest of the city grew around them. “Even when I lived there, I could go skinny dipping with my wife on a nice night,” says Bob Jr. “Civilization has its drawbacks.”
But eventually, the Wilsons began to contemplate the future. “We knew that eventually we’d have to develop,” says Bob Jr. After a heated debate with neighbors and the City of Wichita about building a Wal-Mart in the area, the family began talks with J.P. Weigand & Sons. In 1986, they met a realtor in his mid-20s named George Laham. “We listened to this young broker, and he just had a way about him that made us listen,” recalls Barbara. “He had a vision, and he expressed it in such a way that we were really impressed.”
Two years later, Wilson sold three acres to Laham and a partner for the development of Bradley Fair, the open-air, Mediterranean-style shopping destination that opened in 1990 with local boutiques and added national chains over the next four years. Around the same time, Wilson allowed the Wichita Mounted Police to board their horses at Red Brush Farm. Finally, in 1995, the Wilsons signed an agreement to develop the entire 320 acres.
At the grand opening of Yia Yia’s Euro Bistro on March 30, 1995, Laham stood at the door and greeted guests. He fondly recalls Bob Sr.’s words as they shook hands that evening. The outspoken man said, “Young man, I never thought I would sell this property, but I’m glad I sold it to you.” Laham thanked him. “Don’t thank me,” shot back Bob Sr. “Just do it right.”
Carrying on the Legacy
The land’s legacy, of course, lives on in subtle ways. There’s Bradley Fair. There’s Wilson Estates and its subdivisions—The Belmont, The Preakness, Legacy Park. There are horse jumps that still dot the land. And at the center of it all stands the long-abandoned white house.
“It’s easy to reflect on the land’s glory days,” says Laham as he finishes giving a tour of the old home. “We really wanted to keep the integrity of the property while developing an asset for the community.”
Several months later, from his house in Florida, Bob Jr. echoes these sentiments over the phone while reflecting on the land’s legacy. “I hope people remember the land brought us a great deal of joy, and I hope it brings the same to those who enjoy it today,” he says. Still, he acknowledges the land’s dramatic changes. “It feels different because the horses aren’t there,” he says. “That part is gone, but it’s nice that George has kept a tangible reminder, with the horse jumps and the names in the development.
“I guess it’s like watching your daughter grow up and get married,” he says. “In some ways, you’re excited, but in other ways you don’t want to see her leave home."
