In 2007, a developer named Jeff Lamkin opened Cinnamon Shore on Mustang Island — a master-planned beach community modeled after the New Urbanist developments along Florida's Highway 30A. Walkable streets, Gulf Coast architecture, front porches designed to encourage neighborly conversation. The first phase covered 63 acres and 225 homes with a median price of a million dollars. A second phase, announced in 2017, was a $1.3 billion expansion across 300 acres. To some, Cinnamon Shore brought world-class design and investment to a coast that needed it. To others, it represented exactly the kind of development that would price the locals out of their own island. Both sides were right.
The Vision
Key Facts
- Developer
- Jeff Lamkin / Sea Oats Group
- Phase I
- 63 acres, ~225 homes
- Phase II
- 300 acres, $1.3B
- Median price
- ~$1 million
- Style
- New Urbanist
Lamkin's stated model was the communities along Florida's 30A corridor — Seaside, WaterColor, Rosemary Beach, Alys Beach — but adapted for the Texas coast. The design philosophy was New Urbanist: walkable grid streets instead of cul-de-sacs, mixed housing types instead of uniform subdivisions, a town center with local retailers instead of chain stores. Principal architect Jim Kissling has completed nearly 40 projects at Cinnamon Shore since 2009.
Cinnamon Shore North took 17 years to build out. As the community filled, Lamkin announced Cinnamon Shore South in June 2017 — 550 homes over 147 acres, with a projected 15-to-20-year buildout. Groundbreaking was October 2018. A third subdivision of 250 homes on the bayside is in conceptual design. When complete, Cinnamon Shore will be one of the largest planned communities on the Texas coast.
The Community Response
The defining confrontation between Cinnamon Shore and Port Aransas came over Beach Access Road 1B. The city proposed a new beach access road for emergency vehicle access on the southern end of town. Cinnamon Shore property owners opposed the original route adjacent to their subdivision, citing decreased property values and safety concerns.
The debate intensified when Cinnamon Shore sent an email urging property owners to register to vote in Port Aransas and support candidates favoring their development plans. Nueces County tax records showed that only 2 of 526 Cinnamon Shore owners had homestead exemptions — meaning only two were full-time residents. The rest were vacation homeowners and investors being asked to vote on issues affecting a community they didn't live in year-round.
“Only 2 of 526 Cinnamon Shore owners had homestead exemptions. The rest were vacation homeowners being asked to vote on issues affecting a town they didn't live in.”
What Harvey Changed
Hurricane Harvey made landfall near Port Aransas on August 25, 2017, with Category 4 winds. An estimated 70% of buildings were damaged. 100% of Port Aransas businesses sustained damage. Total losses reached roughly $1 billion. The building department issued 5,539 permits in the ten months after Harvey — more than three times the normal rate.
Cinnamon Shore's newer, code-compliant construction sustained minimal damage by comparison. Management brought in 120 generators to prevent mold. This became a marketing point: the resilience of new construction versus the vulnerability of the older housing stock that gave Port Aransas its character.
The rebuilding period accelerated the transformation. Older, affordable housing — clapboard cottages, modest rentals — was destroyed and replaced by higher-end construction. Harvey didn't create the development pressure. It removed the buildings that had been standing in its way.
The Affordability Question
The tension isn't abstract. Port Aransas is a town where restaurant workers, fishing guides, and shop employees need to live close to their jobs. As property values rise and short-term vacation rentals replace long-term housing, the people who make the island function get pushed further from it.
Housing has been identified as the number one issue facing the community. Condos damaged by Harvey have been particularly slow to come back. Eight years after the storm, Port Aransas is still rebuilding — but what's being rebuilt doesn't always look like what was there before.
The Question That Stays
Every coastal community faces some version of this. Growth brings investment, tax revenue, and attention. It also brings traffic, higher prices, and a slow erosion of the qualities that attracted people in the first place. Port Aransas is not Seaside. It's a fishing town with a working ship channel, a ferry that throttles traffic, and a museum in a Sears kit house. The question is whether it can absorb a billion dollars in master-planned development and still be the place that locals recognize.
There is no villain in this story. Lamkin built something architecturally ambitious on a coast that was mostly strip motels and bait shops. The community that pushed back was protecting something real — an island identity built over a century of storms, recoveries, and the stubborn refusal to become somewhere else. Both positions are defensible. The tension between them is the story.