By Myra Lee Adams Goff

The beautiful two-story New Braunfels Independent School District’s Administration Building on Mill St. brings back high school memories, especially in August.

Shortly after Hermann Seele taught school here under the elm trees beneath the Sophienburg hill, the city took over the responsibility of educating its children. In 1853 the children met in a rented building and finally the New Braunfels Academy was built in 1855 on the corner of Mill and Academy. This building was replaced by a new building built just eight feet behind the Academy. The Academy was then torn down.

In 1914 the Mill Street school opened for all grades in the city (1-11) and remained that way until Carl Schurz and Lamar Elementary schools were built in 1924. Then the Mill St. school became New Braunfels High School (7-12).

When this school was bursting at the seams in the late 1940s, more and more classes were held in the basement of the giant two story building. First hand experience tells me that classes and activities in the basement were a little more interesting than in the rest of the building.

Dominating that underground floor and making the most noise, was the centrally located band hall. The door going into the big room was a giant sound-proof structure that made a terrific swooshing noise when it closed. Across from the band hall was a giant boiler that also made a giant swooshing noise.

The basement held the first commissary, a social hang-out run by the student council. Nothing nutritious, only candy and snacks, but it wasn’t the food that was the attraction – it was who was working there and who got out of class on who-knows-what pretense to check things out. That’s where the bathrooms were too and that trough-like water fountain.

Right next to the commissary was the chemistry lab. It had the reputation of concocting the most horrendous odors, mostly from sulfur, I think, due to the rotten egg smell. On the next floor, right above the lab was Edwin Harden’s English class and several times a week, these chemicals would waft up through the cracks between the floor boards and entertain the English students above. Mr. Harden ran a tight ship, so he merely mixed sulfur with Shakespeare.

Ina Mae Rowe’s math class provided a little stability to the basement. She was the terror of the math department. Terror only to those whose brains were math dead. She seated her students according to their mathematical ability. The Einsteins of the math world were in front of the class, the “not quite awake” math students in the center just waiting to be inspired, and the “better luck next time” math students at the back of the room. Come to think of it, maybe the students placed themselves that way, you know, a sort of math pecking order.

Those successful math students in the front swear by her ability to teach. I sat in the middle waiting to be inspired. The mathematical part of my brain slept through any kind of math class. The social part of my brain stayed wide awake observing those math creatures in the class. Socially I concluded that much more fun could be had from about the middle of the room to the back.

This took place in 1949,’50, and ‘51. Something had to give and so a new High School was built on Guenther St. and the Class of ’51 was the last to graduate from the old Mill Street school. Those three classes are getting together for a giant three class reunion this next April to celebrate being the last classes in that school.

Eventually the Mill Street school was turned into a junior high and then at some point it was condemned. The building was then “uncondemned,” renovated, and now houses the NBISD administration offices.

If walls could talk!

NBHS Senior Class Costume Day, 1936 in front of Mill Street School.From left: Row 1-Thomas Hughes, Harold Simon, Nellrose Erben, Marie Rothberger, Viola Haas, Mascot Dickie Gerlich, Helen Kellermann, Pearl Kirmse, Elisa Morales, Hedwig Hildebrandt, WaltonHoffmann; Row 2- Joe Stroehmer, Enriqueta Chapa, Barbara Staats, Gladys Knibbe, Evelyn Fiedler, John Street, James Weisser, Roxy Roessler, Fred Mittmann; Row 3- Leroy Lehmann, Waldorn Walther, Wally Alves, Lucille Ruppel, Viola Heidrich, Lucille Kirmse, Hilmar Rust, James Herry, Kenneth Fiedler; Row 4- Genevieve Schumann, Leonard Meyer, Dorothy Wimberley, Betty Wille, Dean Capp, John Eikel, Dorothy Plumeyer, Mamie Elley, Ruth Jahn; Row 5- Kenneth Shoemake, Thelma Doeppenschmidt, Florence Windwehen, Ellen Rohde, Tommy Heck, Margaret Frueholz, Walter Heitkamp.

By Myra Lee Adams Goff

When my parents went to school in NB, they were taught all subjects in German, including the German script. It had been that way for three generations. Suddenly, as a result of possible war with Germany in 1916, it was against Texas law to teach children in German. Overnight, they switched to English. The result of this propaganda against Germans was that most of my generation was not taught German. Wie schade! (What a shame). German wasn’t even offered as a foreign language until years after WWII.

America wanted to remain neutral from the war raging in Europe. Neutrality was strained when Germany offered Mexico a deal to join in an alliance against the US in exchange for territories in New Mexico, Texas, and Arizona. When German submarines sank several American merchant ships, public opinion shifted in favor of war, consequently, Congress voted to go to war on April 6, 1917.

This was a very difficult time for German-Americans. Many still had family ties in the “old country” and discrimination against Germans was at its peak. German measles became “liberty measles” and sauerkraut became “liberty cabbage”. Americans were charged with the responsibility of spying on their neighbors (the postmaster had the greatest responsibility).

Communities were asked to show their allegiance with so called “loyalty parades”. In May of 1917, a parade in NB had thousands of flag waving participants with hundreds of school children, several bands, and federal soldiers in parade dress. In addition, Gus Reininger read a proclamation of loyalty to be sent to Pres. Woodrow Wilson.

Gen. John J. Pershing who was stationed in San Antonio was the honored dignitary of the day. As a former Pancho Villa fighter, Pershing soon became the organizer of the US Expeditionary Forces.

All men between 21 and 30 were required to sign up for the draft (increased later to men between 18 and 45). Registration began June 5, 1917. Texas Gov. James E. Ferguson (Ma’s husband) contacted Sheriff Bill Adams to be prepared for the registration.

Comal Countians went overboard to show their patriotism. They exceeded their required sale of Liberty Bonds, planted Victory Gardens, and practiced government food saving practices of wheatless, meatless, porkless days and the fat and sugar saving days. Sounds like one of those modern diets.

Besides discrimination, other disturbing things were happening locally. According to New Braunfels, Comal County, Texas (the Sophienburg’s book by Gregory, Goff, and Nuhn), the state purchased land in the county for a leper colony in 1918.There was greatalarm locally at this action, for fear of further discrimination to the town. It never happened.

Prohibition was another issue that was locally disturbing. The Germans loved their beer. In 1918, Texas voted in favor of Prohibition. Comal County voted 100 percent against it, but old timers say that the beer merely went under the table rather than on top of it.

It wasn’t all bad times, however. About this time a group of US Army soldiers stationed in San Antonio set up an encampment on the Landa Ranch overlooking NB, and there was camaraderie between them and the locals. These soldiers were mostly from Wisconsin and NBHS chose its fight song “On New Braunfels” from the song that they heard those soldiers sing. “On Wisconsin, on Wisconsin, fight right through that line”.

When Armistice was signed on November 11, 1918, thirty- one men from Comal County had died (some from the deadly flu). Records show that an impromptu parade took place on that day and that even then groups from neighboring counties drove cars through the business district, recklessly firing guns at random. Another group hung Kaiser Wilhelm in effigy, firing guns the whole time. After the parade, speeches, and a dinner at Seekatz Opera House, dancing took place at Landa Park.

And so ended the “War to end all wars”.

Bruno Borgfeld, WWI