Kelli Bello was drawn to her leafy pocket neighborhood long before she and her family moved into it in 2022. “I used to walk my dog near here and sort of creep around,” she said. “I was so curious.”
She’s not alone. The collection of 11 treehouses on about an acre-and-a-half of land behind a Cape Cod farmhouse near 60th Street and Western Avenue has piqued Omaha’s curiosity since it was first built in the late 1970s. “It’s such a romantic origin story,” Bello said. “Five friends, all architects, in their thirties and at the start of their careers, coming together to create a little compound up in the trees.”
The endeavor—which came to be known as The Treehouse Association—was one of Omaha’s pioneering urban infill projects—an architectural practice of utilizing underused land to make the most of space in population-dense areas. It was spearheaded by renowned local architect Tom Findley, who brought in colleagues including his brother Scott Findley, Gary Bowen, Gary Tasich, and Jack Savage.
“None of us had any money,” Bowen recalled. “We begged, borrowed, and stole to put down a modest down payment on the farmhouse and its land.” The property, which had been owned by former Omaha mayor A.V. Sorensen and his family, had to be rezoned to allow multiple residences.
“The zoning department scratched their heads because nothing like this had ever been done before in Omaha. It went all the way to the city council and passed on a 4-3 vote,” Bowen said. “The whole thing was nearly blackballed on the city level.”
Once the red tape was cleared, the friends sold the farmhouse to raise money to build homes on the property for themselves and their families—plus four additional residences in Phase Two—around a set of design guidelines they all agreed upon. The wood siding would all be stained the same color, the roofs would all have the same pitch and shingles, and the homes would all be arranged around a central courtyard, paved in brick, with a large oak in the middle. The collective had a shared goal of disturbing as few trees as possible, building some of the homes around existing trees. Once all the constraints were met, they could let their imaginations run wild.
The Bello family bought their home from Tom Findley. “It’s a Chutes and Ladders house,” Bello said, ascending one of the home’s many stairways to a balcony high enough to see over the canopy of trees. Friends warned Bello and her husband Brian that so many levels might not be the best setup for their young children (the eldest is 9, and they have twin 4-year-olds), but she pointed out that the Findleys raised a family of five there. “If they can do it, we can do it.”
Now, the twins deftly scoot up a ladder to reach their room—a long, secret clubhouse under the eaves, with a closet decorated in stickers from brands that were cool in the '90s, and initials carved into the wooden beams. “Whispers of the Findley kids from when they were teenagers,” Bello said.
As the director of development and outreach at Joslyn Castle, the owner of Spearmint Vintage, a collector of old advertising memorabilia, a connoisseur of “weird lighting,” and a letterpress artist, these moments of found arts et métiers delight the magpie in Bello. “I love the micro-history of homes,” she said.
In the primary bedroom, yet another ladder leads to an aerie where Bello restores and archives vintage clothing. “As a little girl, I’m sure I dreamed of living in a treehouse and climbing a ladder into my dress-up loft,” she mused.
Downstairs, the cathedral ceilings in the living room offer a fitting counterpoint to an arched stained-glass window that Findley had salvaged from Good Shepherd Convent—“where all the bad girls went,” Bello said mischievously. She attributes a crack in it to another echo of the Findley teenage years.
In the can-do spirit of the home’s original owners, the Bellos have undertaken a small cosmetic update to their galley kitchen themselves—replacing a gray backsplash with rich emerald tile, inspired by the self-portrait of Art Deco artist Tamara de Lempicka in a green Bugatti. Beyond that, they don’t have plans to change anything. “There’s no way we can improve on what’s already here,” Bello said.
The lofty expectations the young architects had for The Treehouse Project have endured through the years. Like the Bellos, most of the residents bought their homes from the original owners, and they all share a common goal of preserving their enclave’s unique heritage and camaraderie.
“I couldn’t imagine a better living situation,” Bello said. “Everything now is so disposable and fast. The Treehouse architects really put a lot of thought into creating a place people don’t want to leave.”
This article originally appeared in the May 2025 issue of Omaha Home Magazine. To receive the magazine, click here to subscribe.
