By Myra Lee Adams Goff

Do you have happy memories of Christmas past? The Sophienburg is full of stories, photographs, tapes, and collections that reflect what people feel are worth remembering and saving. But Christmas can bring sad, nostalgic memories as well. Charles Dickens capitalized on that idea in “The Christmas Carol” when the Ghost of Christmas Past brought back painful memories of childhood rejection.

One Tuesday when the Sophienburg was full of volunteers, I overheard two Christmas stories that happened during WWII. One story was from Mary Adele Fenske Schneider, a newlywed at the beginning of the war, and the other was from Rose Emich who was a child of about four at that time.

Mary Adele Schneider, a New Braunfels native whose family goes back to the settlers, remembers her Christmas during the early days of the war. On Christmas day, she and her husband, Howard, made the eight mile trip to her grandparent’s farm close to Marion on Santa Clara Creek. Her grandparents were Carl and Adele Krueger and the large family would come to spend the night.

Schneider’s grandmother would begin preparation long before Thanksgiving with the baking of decorated cookies to be hung on the tree. The turkey was hunted by Schneider’s grandfather. In the yard was a large iron pot with a lid and fire underneath for cooking.

The Krueger’s house was large, but had only one indoor bathroom which posed an interesting problem when about 30 relatives spent the night. Never mind, the outhouse was still functional. Schneider remembers beds made up on the floor everywhere.

Carl Krueger brought the cedar tree which he had picked out months before on his hunting lease. He trimmed it all year long and it was finally ready  to be decorated with cookies, bon-bons, ribbon candy, and candy canes. Around the bottom were honeycomb rocks with scenes of tiny animals and a mirror surrounded by ice cream salt to look like a lake.

The German tradition was that children were not allowed to see the tree until Santa (a family member) knocked on the window and then disappeared, signaling that he had done his job. The presents from the grandparents were from Kress and Woolworth 5 &10 cents stores in San Antonio. This is one of those Norman Rockwell happy family memories.

A different memory came from Rose Emich, a new volunteer at the Sophienburg and a valuable one because she reads and translates German. Rose grew up in Germany and has been in the United States for 40 years. We were talking about Christmas customs and she had a very interesting, but sad story to tell about a Christmas that she recalls. She was three or four years old when she remembers herself crouched in an air raid shelter near Stuttgart, Germany. Her whole family was there, which was a comfort, but it was Christmas Eve, December 24, certainly the most important day of the Christmas season for a little girl in Germany. She remembers that the family had to be fully dressed at all times because when the air raid signal went off in the middle of the night, everyone had to get to the shelter before the metal doors closed or they would be locked out.

She had waited patiently for the Kristkind (Christ child) to come with presents. Her mother and father had decorated the tree in the living room, but she didn’t get to see it. Now here Rose sat in the bomb shelter.

She noticed a little girl next to her with a brand new picture book. Rose asked her where she got the book, and the little girl answered, “From the Kristkind”. Rose still remembers the disappointment at not being remembered by the Kristkind. What had she done wrong? She reflects back on those sad times especially at Christmas time.

Even Norman Rockwell couldn’t do justice to that one!

Merry Christmas from the staff and volunteers at the Sophienburg. Photo from the 1900s card collection of the Archives.

By Myra Lee Adams Goff

Newspapers have been an integral part of the life of New Braunfels for 156 years. The first newspaper, “Neu Braunfelser Zeitung”, began Nov. 12, 1852. Here’s how it came about:

A mass meeting of NB citizens was called to choose an editor of the “Zeitung” and Ferdinand Lindheimer was unanimously elected. Money for equipment was raised by public shares. Very soon, however, Lindheimer purchased all the shares and became the sole owner.

Lindheimer, known as the “father of Texas botany” had come to Texas from Germany in 1830, was a veteran of the Texas War of Independence, and eventually joined Prince Carl and the Adelsverein to come to New Braunfels.

During the Civil War, paper was at a premium, but the “Zeitung” continued printing, somewhat colorfully, on butcher paper, wallpaper, and even tissue paper. Lindheimer sold the paper to Anselm Eiband in 1872.

In 1892 an English newspaper, “The New Braunfels Herald”, entered the scene and in 1957 the two newspapers merged. Eventually the German was dropped altogether. Now we have the “Herald-Zeitung” in English.

In 1949 there also appeared a small, independent shopping paper called “Town and Country News” owned by Joe and Helen Baldus. As a senior at NBHS, I was asked to write a column, mostly about school news, but one assignment was different. The Baldus’ wanted me to interview 70 French servicemen that were in pilot training at Randolph AFB and picnicking in Landa Park. I drove to Landa Park and made my way to the WPA-constructed open-air dance hall overlooking the spring-fed pool. There sat the 70 Frenchmen. No one told me that they couldn’t speak English. That was all right because they had a very nice interpreter. I had all my questions written down – I was prepared. I would ask the interpreter the question and he would address the group.  The interpreter would repeat my question in French and they would respond to him. He would tell me their answer in English. Perfect. I did have the distinct impression, however, that my questions were not exactly interpreted as I asked them, but it was a fun experience.

My journalistic “career” had begun full time in Hallie Martin’s English class a year earlier. My friend Phyllis Reininger (Mayr) and I took an assignment that year as the NB correspondents for the big “San Antonio Light” newspaper. We actually covered some pretty important stuff here and could get out of school if there was a trial at the Courthouse. I think I must have been smarter then.

The state editor of the “ Light” said that the paper would pay us 25 cents an inch for published work, so we really cranked out the stories! Like good investigative journalists, we followed leads, tracked down rumors, and generally made pests of ourselves.

Phyllis and I kept a scrapbook in which we cut out and pasted copies of the published stories, to be measured at the end of the month.  I don’t think we ever made more than $5.00 a month. Mostly the check was the correct amount except one month we were short-changed. We owed it to the journalistic profession to rectify this situation, so we took ourselves and our scrapbook to the fourth floor of the “ Light” building. We went directly to the state editor. We explained to him, with scrapbook in hand, that he had made a terrible mistake in calculating our check by some 75 cents (3 inches). He was very understanding and then proceeded to call about 20 reporters over to his desk to explain the situation to them. They were very composed and polite and the wrong was righted. As we left the room, we heard an uproarious laughter. The bus ride cost us more than our reimbursement.

As they say, “Some experiences are priceless”, and journalism is like that.

"No one told me they couldn't speak English." Drawing by Patricia Arnold