Chanute Regional Development Authority

Chanute Regional Development Authority The mission of the Chanute Regional Development Authority (CRDA) is to advance an environment that preserves, attracts and promotes business.

It’s noon.You’re buying lunch.Where are you going? No repeats!Let’s see how many local restaurants we can name.
09/02/2026

It’s noon.
You’re buying lunch.
Where are you going?

No repeats!
Let’s see how many local restaurants we can name.

Front Porch Tuesday - The Infrastructure We Don’t Always SeeLast week, I wrote about what happens when a rural school cl...
09/01/2026

Front Porch Tuesday - The Infrastructure We Don’t Always See

Last week, I wrote about what happens when a rural school closes and the economic impact that reaches far beyond the classroom. Schools employ people, attract families, create identity and influence whether employers believe a community can support its future workforce.

In other words, a school is infrastructure. Just not the kind we traditionally think about when we use that word.

When most of us hear “infrastructure,” we think about roads, bridges, water, sewer, electricity, broadband and industrial parks. Those things are essential. But they are only part of what it takes to grow a rural community.

There is another layer of infrastructure that may not show up on an engineering map: housing, childcare, healthcare, schools, small businesses and entrepreneurs, workforce development, parks and recreation, libraries, downtowns, public safety, civic organizations, community leadership, arts and culture, and perhaps most importantly, a sense of belonging. These things are the systems that allow people to build a life in a community.

That matters because rural America is at an interesting point demographically. About 46.2 million people, 13.6 percent of the U.S. population, live in rural America. After years of stagnation and decline, rural populations have actually grown each year since 2020. But that growth has largely come from people moving into rural areas, not from births. Between 2020 and 2024, migration added nearly 974,000 people to rural counties, while deaths exceeded births by more than 563,000.
That tells us something important. Rural communities have an opportunity to attract people, but we have to give them a reason, and the ability to stay.

For years, rural economic development focused heavily on one question: How do we create jobs? That is still important, but today we also have to ask what someone needs in order to build a life here. An employer may choose a community because of available land, incentives or utility capacity, but sooner or later they are going to ask where their employees will live, whether childcare is available, whether there are good schools, how far the nearest hospital is, whether broadband is reliable and whether their employees will actually want to stay.
Housing may be one of the clearest examples. A community can create 100 jobs, but if there are no homes available, many employees will simply live somewhere else. When they do, their grocery dollars, property taxes, restaurant spending, school enrollment and volunteer hours often go somewhere else, too. Housing is not simply a real estate issue. It is workforce and economic development infrastructure.

Childcare is another. USDA research found rural areas had about 3.8 private childcare establishments for every 1,000 children under age five during 2018–2022, slightly below urban areas. Even more concerning, the actual number of rural childcare establishments declined during that period. If a parent cannot find childcare, that parent may not be able to go to work. That makes childcare a family issue, a workforce issue and an economic development issue.

Healthcare is equally important. Between 2010 and 2025, 152 rural hospitals closed across the United States. A rural hospital or clinic is not simply where we go when we are sick. It is often a major employer, a tool for attracting professionals and an important factor in whether families believe they can safely build a life in a community.

Small businesses are infrastructure, too. According to the U.S. Small Business Administration, small businesses account for more than 56 percent of employment outside metropolitan areas, compared with about 48 percent in metropolitan areas. The grocery store, mechanic, restaurant, contractor, daycare, coffee shop and small manufacturer are not simply amenities. They provide jobs and services, keep dollars circulating locally and help create the identity of a place.

Then there is quality of life. Parks, libraries, trails, ballfields, festivals, downtowns, arts and cultural opportunities may not create 100 jobs, but they create connection and belonging. They help answer one of the most important questions facing rural communities today: Why would someone choose to live here?

And perhaps the most overlooked infrastructure of all is leadership. Strong communities require people willing to serve on boards, run for office, volunteer, start businesses, organize events, have difficult conversations and occasionally challenge the phrase, “We’ve always done it this way.” Physical infrastructure can be built with concrete and steel, but community infrastructure is built with people.
The demographic reality makes all of this increasingly important. Rural areas have experienced more deaths than births every year since 2017, and from 2023 to 2024, 76 percent of nonmetropolitan counties experienced natural population decline. Attracting and retaining working-age adults and young families is no longer simply a nice economic development goal. For many communities, it is essential to maintain schools, businesses, healthcare, tax bases and civic organizations.
Over the next several weeks, I want to explore these less traditional pieces of rural infrastructure individually, housing, childcare, healthcare, entrepreneurship, quality of life, leadership and belonging, and what they mean for the future of rural communities. Because economic development is ultimately about people.

We can build the industrial park, extend the water line, pave the road and install the fiber. And we should. But if we do not build the rest of the community around those investments, we may find ourselves with excellent infrastructure and fewer people left to use it.

Maybe the view from the front porch this week is that infrastructure is not simply what runs underneath a community. It is everything we build around people that gives them a reason, and an opportunity to stay.

Social media can be such a negative place sometimes. Let’s spread some positivity today! Share in the comments something...
08/31/2026

Social media can be such a negative place sometimes. Let’s spread some positivity today! Share in the comments something positive from your weekend!

Have a business idea? Southeast Kansas wants to help you build it!The SEED Grant Program is now accepting applications f...
08/26/2026

Have a business idea? Southeast Kansas wants to help you build it!

The SEED Grant Program is now accepting applications from aspiring entrepreneurs across Southeast Kansas!

Selected entrepreneurs will receive:
💰 $1,000 micro-grant
🤝 Mentorship & coaching
📈 Hands-on learning
💡 Access to resources
🌾 Micro-internships & rural storytelling opportunities

If you have a business idea—or you’re in the very early stages of building one—this could be the support you’ve been looking for.

Applications are open August 15–September 1, 2026
Awards announced September 15, 2026

Ready to take the next step? Scan the QR code on the flyer or visit govtunedash.com/competitions/967 to apply.

Let’s keep building, growing, and investing in the future of Southeast Kansas.

The Difference Between Rural Growth and Rural DeclineToday’s Front Porch Tuesday may be a sensitive one.Schools, taxes, ...
08/25/2026

The Difference Between Rural Growth and Rural Decline

Today’s Front Porch Tuesday may be a sensitive one.
Schools, taxes, consolidation, and community identity stir strong emotions. But difficult conversations are usually the ones most worth having. And if we are serious about the future of rural communities, then we need to talk honestly about what happens when a school closes, and what our willingness, or unwillingness, to invest in it says about us.
In rural America, schools are rarely just a school. It is where Friday nights happen. It is where grandparents attend Christmas programs, where families build relationships, where civic organizations gather, and where young people begin deciding whether their hometown is somewhere worth coming back to.
From an economic development standpoint, a school represents something difficult to put on a spreadsheet: It represents a community’s belief in its own future.
That is why conversations about closing a school cannot be reduced simply to cost per student, building conditions, or bus routes. Those numbers matter.
But so does this question: What happens economically after the doors close?
And what does a closed school communicate to the family, physician, engineer, plant manager, entrepreneur, or company considering making that community home?
Nobody likes paying more taxes. I don’t. You don’t. But there is a difference between being cautious with taxpayer dollars and being so focused on avoiding any additional cost that we fail to recognize the value of what those dollars protect.
At some point, short-term thinking becomes expensive.
Rural communities cannot continually say they want growth, young families, workforce, housing, and new employers while refusing to invest in the very infrastructure required to attract them. And frankly, there is something a little contradictory about demanding economic growth while objecting to nearly every investment necessary to produce it.
We understand this everywhere else.
A manufacturer considers coming to town, and we talk about extending water, improving sewer, upgrading roads, creating industrial parks, offering incentives, and investing in workforce training.
Why? Because we understand that economic growth requires investment.
Yet sometimes those same communities struggle with investing in the school where the future employees of that manufacturer will send their children. That should make us stop and think.
Businesses do not simply relocate equipment. They relocate people. And those people want to know where their children are going to school.
Schools are economic development infrastructure just like roads, broadband, housing, childcare, healthcare, water, and sewer.
USDA research has identified good schools as an important amenity for employers and workers considering relocation. Researchers have also found that school quality can influence whether former rural residents choose to return home and raise their families.
Imagine two communities 20 miles apart. Both have broadband. Both have housing. Both have available industrial land. Both are willing to offer incentives.
One has a thriving local school.
The other closed its school and buses children somewhere else.
Which one feels like it is investing in its future?
Which community is a plant manager relocating with three children more likely to choose?
Fair or unfair, perception becomes economic reality.
That does not mean cost does not matter.
Kansas school districts face declining enrollment, increasing operating costs, staffing challenges, aging facilities, transportation expenses, and growing financial pressures. Small schools can be expensive to operate.
There absolutely comes a point when communities must discuss sustainability.
But economic development teaches us something important: The cheapest option is not always the option with the best return.
We do not build the cheapest possible infrastructure to an industrial site and then hope a company overlooks the shortcomings. We invest enough to remain competitive.
Perhaps we should think about schools the same way. The word tax gets an immediate reaction. The word investment gets another. Yet sometimes we are talking about the same dollars.
When taxpayers improve a road to attract an employer, we measure jobs and payroll. When communities develop an industrial park, we talk about return on investment. When we build broadband, we ask what opportunities it creates.
So perhaps the question surrounding schools should not be only: “How much will this cost me?”
Maybe we should also ask: “What are we protecting with this investment?”
Property values? Population? Workforce? Business recruitment? Young families? Community identity? Future generations?
Because closing a school has a cost, too.
Since 1998, more than 6,000 public schools have closed in rural U.S. counties.
Research published in Rural Sociology found evidence that rural school closures can contribute to additional population loss.
The relationship can become a cycle. Fewer children. Lower enrollment. Less funding. School closure. Fewer families willing to move there. More families leave. Even fewer children.
Research in Denmark found that population development in communities experiencing rural school closures was approximately 7.6 percentage points worse over the following decade than researchers estimated it would have been without the closures.
Other research has described the possibility of a self-reinforcing cycle of population decline. That should matter to anyone concerned about the future of rural America.
It also affects housing. Research examining rural school consolidation in Arkansas found associations with declines in population and property-value assessments.
Think about the family considering buying a house in your community.
They ask: Where will my children go to school? How far away is it? What activities are available? Will my children be able to participate? What does this community offer our family? Those questions matter because rural communities already struggle to attract and retain younger residents.
Many people leave rural areas in their 20s. The opportunity often comes later, when they are in their 30s, building careers, buying homes, and raising children. That is exactly when the school becomes one of the most important pieces of the relocation decision.
And newcomers do not know our history. They read the signs we give them. An abandoned grocery store tells a story. A boarded-up downtown tells a story. A vacant hospital tells a story. And a closed school tells a story.
You can spend thousands of dollars marketing your community as a great place to live, work, and raise a family. But when someone drives into town and sees an empty school, you now have to explain why what they see does not mean what they think it means.
A school filled with children sends a very different message. It says there are families here. There are teachers here. There are ballgames and concerts here. There are children learning agriculture, welding, technology, music, science, and leadership here. There will be another graduating class. There will be another generation. This community expects to be here.
Employers notice, too.
USDA research examining manufacturers in rural areas experiencing significant outmigration found that 41.4 percent of manufacturers in high-poverty outmigration counties identified local school quality as a major problem, compared with only 9.5 percent in other nonmetro counties.
Even more striking, approximately 85 percent of manufacturers in those struggling counties that reported difficulty attracting managers and professionals also identified poor local school quality as a major problem.
That is economic development.
A community can recruit a company and still watch its employees live 20 or 30 miles away because another town offers better schools, childcare, housing, or amenities. Then your community gets the building. The neighboring community gets the families. And those families bring property taxes, grocery purchases, restaurant spending, volunteers, coaches, homeowners, and future leaders with them.
Schools themselves are also major employers in rural communities. Teachers. Paraprofessionals. Bus drivers. Custodians. Food-service employees. Office staff. Coaches. Technology staff. Administrators. Those people purchase homes, buy groceries, eat locally, purchase fuel, pay taxes, and raise families.
But, when a school closes, not every dollar disappears. But some economic activity goes somewhere else.
That does not mean every rural school can or should remain open indefinitely. Taxpayers deserve accountability. School districts should operate efficiently. Buildings should be evaluated honestly. Enrollment projections should be realistic.
Communities should consider partnerships, shared services, and creative alternatives. And sometimes consolidation may ultimately be necessary. But before making that decision, we should be willing to calculate more than the immediate savings.
We should calculate what the community may lose.
And if closure becomes unavoidable, planning should begin before the doors shut. Could the building become housing? Childcare? A business incubator? Workforce training? Healthcare? A community center? A private employer?
An abandoned school cannot be allowed to become the monument people drive past every day reminding them of what the community used to be.
Which brings us back to the uncomfortable part.
Rural communities frequently say we want growth. We want families. We want businesses. We want employees. We want housing. We want our children to come home. But wanting those things and investing in those things are two very different commitments.
There is a particular kind of shortsightedness in refusing to invest in the institutions that make a community viable and then acting surprised when families leave, employers struggle to recruit, property values stagnate, and population continues to decline.
At some point, we have to stop treating rural decline like something that simply happens to us.
Sometimes it is the cumulative result of decisions we make ourselves. Nobody likes taxes. But communities cannot cut their way to prosperity. They cannot neglect their way into growth. And they certainly cannot spend decades choosing the cheapest option and then wonder why the next generation chose somewhere else.
A strong rural school tells an employer: We are preparing your future workforce.
It tells a young family: There is a place for your children here.
It tells a homeowner: We believe your investment in this community matters.
It tells a graduating senior: There may still be something here worth coming home to.
And it tells everyone else: We believe this place has a future.
So maybe the next time a rural community debates a school bond, mill levy, facility investment, or even the future of the school itself, the question should not simply be: “What will this cost me?”
Maybe we should also ask: “What will it cost us if we refuse to invest?”
Because the view from the front porch means recognizing that rural communities do not survive by avoiding every expense. They survive by understanding what is worth investing in. And sometimes the difference between rural growth and rural decline is whether we are willing to look beyond next year’s tax bill and invest in the next generation.

🚨 CHANUTE — WE NEED YOUR ELEVATOR SPEECH! 🚨We just found out a family is moving to Southeast Kansas, but they haven’t de...
08/23/2026

🚨 CHANUTE — WE NEED YOUR ELEVATOR SPEECH! 🚨

We just found out a family is moving to Southeast Kansas, but they haven’t decided which town they want to call home yet.

So let’s make our case. 👏

If you had 30 seconds to convince them to choose Chanute over any other SEK community, what would you say?

What makes Chanute special?
❤️ What do you love about living here?
🏡 Why is it a great place to raise a family?
🤝 What makes our community different?
☕ What local spot, hidden gem, or tradition would you tell them about?
🌱 Why do you believe Chanute is a great place to put down roots?

Give us your best Chanute elevator speech in the comments! ⬇️

Let’s show this family what those of us who call Chanute home already know:

There’s something pretty special about this little corner of Southeast Kansas. ❤️

08/20/2026

Without taking a new picture...
What’s the LAST Chanute photo on your phone?
Post it to the comments!

Front Porch Tuesday: When Tradition Becomes an AnchorThere is something comforting about tradition in a rural community....
08/18/2026

Front Porch Tuesday: When Tradition Becomes an Anchor

There is something comforting about tradition in a rural community.
We like knowing the same church bell will ring on Sunday morning. We like the old brick buildings downtown, the school gym where generations played basketball, the community hall where wedding receptions, pancake feeds and retirement parties have been held for as long as anyone can remember.
We like being able to point at a building and say, “My granddad helped build that.”
There is value in that.
But there is a question rural communities eventually must ask themselves, and it is not an easy one:
What happens when keeping a tradition begins costing us our future?
Sometimes it starts with a building. The roof needs to be replaced. Then the heating system. Then someone discovers electrical work that was perfectly acceptable in 1952 but doesn't quite meet the expectations of 2026. The bathrooms aren't accessible. The windows leak. The plumbing has reached the age where finding replacement parts involves calling a guy who “might have one in a shed somewhere.”
Before long, a building we were trying to save because it represents our history needs hundreds of thousands—or even millions—of dollars to remain useful. Those numbers aren't exaggerations.
The National Park Service reported that among projects using the federal Historic Tax Credit in fiscal year 2024, the median qualified rehabilitation cost was about $1.66 million. Nearly half of completed projects, 44 percent, were still below $1 million, illustrating just how quickly substantial rehabilitation costs can climb.
And construction isn't getting cheaper. By January 2026, input prices for nonresidential construction were 2.9 percent higher than a year earlier, with particular pressure on products such as copper wire, steel and electrical equipment.
For a community with 50,000 people, those numbers are difficult. For a community of 1,500, they can be overwhelming.
And that is where tradition sometimes gets confused with obligation. “We've always had it there.” “We've always done it this way.” “My grandparents went there.” “That building has been part of this town for 100 years.”
All of those statements can be true. But none of them answers the most important question: What does our community need for the next 50 years?
I think rural communities sometimes believe we have only two choices. Save everything. Or tear everything down.
We don't.
Honoring our history does not require us to become prisoners of it.
Some buildings absolutely should be saved. Historic preservation can be an economic development tool. National Park Service data show that historic rehabilitation generated more than $12.8 billion in economic output in fiscal year 2024 and supported approximately 116,000 jobs. And importantly for those of us who work in rural America, about 34 percent of Historic Tax Credit projects were located in communities with populations below 50,000.
Old buildings can become apartments. A former school can become housing. A warehouse can become offices. A historic downtown building can become a restaurant, business incubator or gathering space.
That is tradition moving forward.
But there are also times when the numbers simply do not work.
There are buildings where spending $2 million to preserve the structure may give us a building worth considerably less than our investment. There are facilities designed for a population and purpose that no longer exist. There are structures consuming operating dollars every year that could be invested in something our children and grandchildren actually need.
At some point, sentimentality becomes very expensive. And that conversation isn't disrespectful. It is stewardship.
Our grandparents understood stewardship better than we sometimes give them credit for. They repaired things when they could. They reused things when it made sense.But they also embraced electricity, tractors, telephones, paved roads, indoor plumbing and every other innovation that made their communities stronger.
I doubt many of them would tell us, “Never change anything because this is how we did it.”
More likely, they would ask why we were spending all our money fixing a roof on a building nobody uses.
The same principle applies beyond buildings.
“We've always done it this way” might be the most dangerous sentence in rural America.
We have always held the event this weekend.
We have always met at this time.
We have always had this committee.
We have always operated this program.
We have always spent money on this.
Maybe those traditions still serve us. But every once in a while, we should have enough courage to ask whether they do.
Because when young families look at our communities, they aren't only looking at our history. They're looking at our future. They are asking whether there is childcare. Housing. Good schools. Reliable internet. Places to eat. Things to do. Jobs. Healthcare. Safe streets. Opportunities for their children.
And every dollar a rural community spends maintaining something simply because it has always existed is a dollar we cannot spend building something that needs to exist.
That doesn't mean history doesn't matter.
It means history should be our foundation, not our ceiling.
There are traditions worth fighting for. There are buildings worth saving. There are stories that should never disappear.
But perhaps our responsibility isn't to preserve every structure exactly as our grandparents left it.
Perhaps our responsibility is to preserve the spirit that built those communities in the first place.
Those generations were builders. They took risks. They adapted. They created schools, businesses, churches, grain elevators, hospitals and Main Streets because their communities needed them. They didn't have the luxury of saying, “We've always done it this way.” In many cases, they were doing it for the first time.
Maybe honoring them means having that same courage. Preserve what deserves preserving. Repurpose what can have a second life. Replace what no longer works. And occasionally have enough courage to let something go.
Because the saddest thing that can happen to a rural community isn't losing an old building. It is spending so much time protecting yesterday that there is nothing left to invest in tomorrow.
Tradition matters.
But tradition survives best when the community around it survives too.
And sometimes moving forward is the most respectful thing we can do for the people who came before us.
As I sit on the front porch, I’m reminded that economic development and community development is never about erasing where we came from. It is about making sure the next generation has something worth coming home to. We can honor the people who built our communities without insisting that every building, every program and every way of doing things remain frozen in time.
Maybe the view from the front porch means honoring our past by carrying forward the values that built our communities, while having the courage to embrace what comes next.

📍Only Locals Will Know...Only people from Chanute will understand...Finish the sentence!😂 This one should be fun.
08/17/2026

📍Only Locals Will Know...
Only people from Chanute will understand...
Finish the sentence!
😂 This one should be fun.

Address

1 W Main
Chanute, KS
66720

Opening Hours

Monday 9am - 5pm
Tuesday 9am - 5pm
Wednesday 9am - 5pm
Thursday 9am - 5pm
Friday 9am - 12pm

Telephone

+16204315222

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