br br br
The iron gates to Zena Rucker’s home are ratherbrunassuming. At least, they do a good job ofbrconcealing a large and awe-inspiring secret.brLocated south of La Paloma Road off CarrollbrAvenue, the entrance is probably one most people havebrpassed by numerous times without paying any mind tobrwhat lies beyond it. But through those gates and at thebrend of a long paved lane is a piece of Southlake historybrthat’s fast becoming as rare in this town as free-roamingbrlonghorns.br
It’s called open land, and Rucker’s Mediterranean-brstyle home sits on roughly 75 acres of it, part wooded andbrpart agricultural. From her back porch, it’s easy to forgetbrthat there are subdivisions on either side (Timarron tobrthe west and Winding Creek to the east), let alone thebrbustling retail scene along nearby Southlake Boulevard.brRucker can think of fewer things more enjoyable thanbrsitting on this back patio watching airplanes fly in andbrout of Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport andbrreflecting on a life that’s been so shaped by the airlinebrindustry.br
Rucker and her late husband, Bill, a pilot for AmericanbrAirlines, bought their property in 1960, in part due tobrtheir love of flying and because they heard that a largebrairport [what is now DFW] was going to be built inbrthe area.br
“Bill said, ‘Let’s find a place in the country, make abrlanding strip and get an airplane,’” recalls Rucker. At firstbrthey used the land as a getaway, but five years later theybrmoved to the area full time, raising their three childrenbrhere, and yes, flying small planes in and out from theirbrgrass runway.
br br br
Though the original house on the land was built just afterbrthe Civil War, the Ruckers realized the small structurebrwould not suit their family. Their current home hasbrevolved through the years from the home they first built.brAdditions including his-and-hers garages flank bothbrsides of the home. On Bill’s side is a truck he bought a fewbryears before he passed away nine years ago, as well as abr1929 Model A Ford that’s been kept in pristine condition.br(Rucker uses the truck as needed, but finds it just as easybrto zip through the tall grasses on her property in her Priusbror her Yamaha four-wheeler.)br
Her home now is filled with memories and keepsakes,brincluding statuary in the kitchen representing differentbrcivilizations throughout Mexican history. Rucker wasbrborn in Mexico—her father was an Irish-American frombrTennessee and her mother was an Irish-Mexican—andbrcame to the U.S. when she was nine.br
“I really love Mexican history,” Rucker admits. “It wasbrmy major in college.” She and Bill dubbed their homebr“La Hacienda,” meaning the ranch house, and created abrreplica of a gazebo from the village of El Fuerte, Mexico,brnear where she lived as a young child.br
Her and her late husband’s love of aviation is wellbrrepresented inside as well. Items the former flightbrattendant and her husband collected from the farawaybrplaces they had the opportunity to visit are displayedbrthroughout the house.br
“Because my husband and I were with the airlinesbrand both of my sons [Mike and Dooley] are pilots, I havebralways felt loyal to American Airlines and the airlinebrindustry... It’s done so much to enhance my life,” saysbrRucker. “I’ve traveled, learned foreign languages andbrlearned about other cultures.”br
Rucker had a short stint as a flight attendant forbrAmerican Airlines and then became a teacher. She later became the first woman to run a Z-Yamaha motorcycle dealershipbrin Grapevine. Rucker then obtained her pilot’s license and opened abrflight school in North Texas at a time when even seeing a female inbrthe cockpit was a rarity.
br br brOn the coffee table, next to books about the history of this areabr(including Unforgettable Grapevine Characters, in which she and herbrhusband are included) is a copy of Feminists Who Changed America,brdog-eared to the page featuring Rucker. “I pride myself on being abrpolitical activist and a feminist,” she says. Rucker has served on thebrboard of the National Organization of Women and still supportsbrnumerous democratic causes. She recalls getting up early onbrmany occasions to catch a morning flight to Washington D.C. sobrthat she could march in demonstrations in the morning, visit herbrcongressmen in the afternoon, then catch a night flight back home.br
And now, at an age when most people are slowing down, thebroctogenarian has become a real estate developer, somewhat of abrreaction to the never-ending offers she gets from developers hopingbrshe will sell her land. (Something she is not interested in doing, bybrthe way.) She and her granddaughter and partner Jacqueline Craftbrhave already developed one medical office complex on land shebrowns along Southlake Boulevard and have started construction onbra second. They named their real estate development company ZeldabrLLC in memory of Bill, who used to tease Rucker by calling her abrname hers was often confused with.br
“I love building and remodeling,” she says. “I like the smellbrof sawdust; it does something for my soul. It’s like I am creatingbrsomething new and better.”br
Rucker still finds time to participate in hobbies, though,brincluding gardening and cooking, often sharing recipes or dishesbrshe has made with the friends and neighbors who frequently stopbrby to say hello.br
Despite grievous losses in her life, Rucker remains an optimist.brShe says, “I find myself in a very happy period in my life. I love mybrhouse, my family, my land, and I love what I am doing with thebrbuilding and development.”