For the Haggard farm, one of Plano’s last open tracts, the end is near

For the Haggard farm, one of Plano’s last open tracts, the end is near
Plano’s Last Big Subdivision

An aerial photograph of the Haggard farm (right) shows its proximity to residential development.

By THEODORE KIM , Dallas Morning News
Call it progress. Or unfortunate. Or inevitable. Or maybe all of the above.
The Haggard farm — one of Plano’s first tracts to be settled and a longtime holdout of suburbia’s grip — will soon become a subdivision.  Its owners have announced plans to turn the farm, located in the heart of Plano, into a 459-home development that also includes restaurants and retail. The proposal, which has stirred opposition from some nearby residents for traffic and other concerns, still requires city approval.  More noteworthy than the project is the demise of the familiar farm at Park Boulevard and Custer Road. It has reached iconic status among locals with its silver windmill, hay bales and llamas grazing by the roadside.

Few tracts might tempt homebuilders more than the flat 119-acre Haggard farm, which is already surrounded by shopping plazas and subdivisions. Yet in a community increasingly defined by its sprawl, the farm offers perhaps the last best glimpse of Plano’s rural roots.  “I remember driving down Park Boulevard and seeing families lined up on the fence petting the cows,” City Council member Lissa Smith said. “That’s part of what brought me to Plano. Progress is always there, but we all lament that loss.”

To understand how embedded the Haggard family and farm are in Plano’s history, one must turn back to the 1850s when Clifton Shepard Haggard and his father, John, were among the area’s first settlers.  They came from Kentucky and farmed wheat and oats and raised cattle, attracted to the region’s dark soil and prairie. They were here long before the highways were built, before the railroad came, before the Civil War was fought and before Plano was even called Plano.
These days, Rodney Haggard, the great-grandson of Clifton Shepard Haggard, minds the farm, which started in 1884 and still raises crops and cattle. He said the family always planned to sell at some point. Yet even the family grieves the coming changes.  “It’s sad in a way. We’ve just been here for so long and we’ve enjoyed it,” said Haggard, 63, who works in real estate.  Plano has paid back the family in reverence. There is a Haggard Library, a Haggard Middle School, a Haggard Street and a Haggard Park. The state has recognized the farm as one of a handful in Texas that has operated with the same owners for more than 100 years.  Other descendants, many of whom live in Plano, own parcels elsewhere, including much of the city’s open farmland along the Dallas North Tollway.  “You can’t talk about Plano without talking about the Haggards,” said Rory Fischer, a neighbor of the Haggard farm.  But the farm has always served as home base. It has been the site of countless Haggard family gatherings and Sunday dinners.

Park Boulevard sheep
In some ways, the family’s colorful stories reflect just how much the city has transformed. Rodney Haggard recalls herding sheep along Park Boulevard and Alma Drive as a youngster, an almost farcical idea today as both of those streets are now bustling thoroughfares.
And then there are the farm’s celebrated llamas, which the Haggards brought in years ago to protect their sheep from packs of coyotes. Only three llamas are left, while the sheep are gone.
Now full-time grazers in semi-retirement, the llamas tend to keep close to the roadside, prompting smiles and double takes from the thousands of motorists who travel by the farm daily.
“The farm is a great reminder that not long ago, this was an agricultural community,” Plano Mayor Phil Dyer said. “It’s a reminder of where we came from.”
Its sense of worth and history has only grown as stores and subdivisions have gobbled up the surrounding land.
About 500 acres of undeveloped residentially zoned land is left in Plano, although much of it is scattered throughout the city in small parcels. The Haggard farm represents more than a fifth of that total and is believed to be the largest contiguous piece.
Plano last year agreed to purchase a 51-acre plot of land owned by other Haggard descendants just down the road from the Haggard farm. Plano intends to turn the tract into a park.
Plans for the Haggard farm are more substantial — and controversial.
The preliminary proposal calls for single-family homes, as well as townhouses and easy-to-walk-to shops and restaurants. Builders will develop the land gradually over a years-long period starting on the northern side should the project receive city approval, Rodney Haggard said.  Plano’s zoning board discussed the project last week and is expected to take it up again on Oct. 17. Once the board takes action, it will then move to the City Council for a final vote.

The early plans have received mixed reviews. Some homeowners object to building retail on the site, while others are concerned the influx of homes will generate far more traffic than nearby roads are meant to handle. Recent public meetings on the project have drawn scores of neighbors.  The concerns have fostered some awkwardness at City Hall since many in Plano, including those opposed to the subdivision’s design, have embraced both the Haggards and the farm as their own. “It’s their property and they have a right to build on it,” said Fischer, who has helped marshal neighborhood groups in reviewing the project. “The Haggards are a great family and part of the overall Plano community. But there are some concerns that neighbors have.”

Life in the big city
But it is becoming clear the farm’s days are numbered as the city engulfs it.  Trash often drifts onto the property. Vehicles routinely breach the farm’s cattle fences, while traffic has made it difficult for workers to bring in farm equipment.  The family regularly gets phone calls from passing motorists swearing that the llamas and cows appear dead, sick or tangled in the fences. (They almost always are not.)

“Plano’s a big city now and the world is moving so fast,” said Cary Gorman, 56, of Van Alstyne, who manages operations on the farm. “It’s sad to see it. But as they say, they’re not making any more land these days.”

courtesy of: Dallas Morning News