By Myra Lee Adams Goff

Children don’t question whether it’s possible for rabbits to lay eggs. They just know that when they build a pretty nest of grass and flowers, the Osterhase (Easter rabbit) lays these beautiful multi-colored eggs. It’s the miracle of the beginning of life.

Research says that Easter named after the ancient spring goddess Eastre whose earthly symbol was the hare. Being a pagan symbol, it was rejected by the more austere religious denominations until after the Civil War. With all the tragedy during that time, Easter became a symbol of renewal and hope. (Charles Panati, “Extraordinary Origins of Everyday Things”)

I have found no written account of the frivolous hare in the records of the first 1845 Easter in New Braunfels. Arriving on Good Friday, the first settlers celebrated Easter with a worship service under the elms below Sophienburg hill. There is no mention of rabbits or eggs. Supposedly it was the Pennsylvanian Dutch who brought the Easter customs to American. The rabbit was a natural symbol of renewal (that figures).

Easter is one of the most sacred of Christian holy days, falling on the first Sunday after a full moon on or after the vernal equinox (never before March 22 or after April 25). In the Christian religion, it is the celebration of Resurrection.

Now about eggs: The ancient Romans had a saying, “Omne vivum ex ovo” meaning “All life comes from an egg”. Colored eggs were exchanged. as gifts. The eggs were commonly dyed with flowers, leaves, insects, vegetables, and whatever stained.

At Sophie’s Shop at the Sophienburg, we have our share of rabbits and eggs. The Christmas tree in the center of the room is VOILÁ! an Easter tree. It’s decorated with beautiful delicate eggs, glass birds and bunnies of all kinds. My favorite new gift idea is the green glass bee catcher. You have to see it to believe it!

Karl and Helen Kypfer Zipp are a multi-generational family here in NB that celebrates Easter in the same way that their families did years ago. Helen grew up in Geronimo and to this day, her family gets together at the Kypfer homestead for a late Sunday egg hunt. Each child builds a nest of grass outside (unless it rains) and decorates it with rose petals, primroses, and any wildflower that can be found. That illusive rabbit lays beautiful colored eggs in the nest and all over the yard. The advent of food coloring made the laying of colored eggs easier for the rabbit. In the past, the children would be given baby chicks to then be raised on the farm. New clothes, hats, shoes, and gloves were part of the Easter tradition. Helen can remember that wearing white was done only after Easter.

I know what Karl Zipp’s traditional Easter was like because he is part of my extended family. Our aunts and great-aunts owned the original Karl  Roessing homestead in Comaltown on Union Street where the Comal Drug stands. Karl Roessing was his g-grandfather and my g-g-grandfather. The family would gather on Easter Sunday afternoon. While the children played in the house, the men would hide the eggs all over the yard. Then the cousins would take our decorated oatmeal box baskets outside and begin the hunt. It took quite a while because it was such a large yard. In the evening we would sit around a long picnic table under the trees and as evening came, candles were lit casting a sort of magic as night fell. Then began the story-telling and singing. That was the most fun of all.

Karl and Helen Zipp, their three children, and their six grand-daughters and one little guy are a family that has handed down Easter traditions for six generations as so many of you have also done.

L-R Helen Williams, Bowden Zipp, Tierce Zipp, and Lillian Williams. Children of Stoney and Sara Williams, and Tim and Allyson Zipp.

By Myra Lee Adams Goff

Common denominators sometime bring people together who don’t expect to be. The common denominator in this tale is Sophie’s Shop at the Sophienburg. The people are Jane Felts Mauldin, Maurice Schmidt, and me.

Here’s how it happened: I was in Sophie’s Shop when NB artist Jane Mauldin walked in with some of her prints of wildflowers and old local buildings. She sells them at the shop. She wanted to know if I had read Maurice Schmidt’s book called “A Life in Art”. It’s for sale in the shop.

I had not but I definitely remembered Maurice Schmidt and the whole Schmidt family from long ago. For that matter, about six years ago I had visited with his brother Barry (Baruch) on a trip to Jerusalem where he lives.

Jane’s connection with Schmidt was that she was an art student of his when she was working on her Masters degree at A&I in Kingsville (later A&M Kingsville). That was 36 years ago. Recently she had made contact with him when she read a review of his book.

My interest was piqued and I took his book home to read. What I read was not only his philosophy of art, but his remembrances of growing up in New Braunfels. His memories became mine as I realized how much we had in common. We were both raised in NB, graduated from NBHS, were on the Unicorn annual staff, and had an interest in art. As a matter of fact, we both took private painting lessons from Werner Demuth, a local talented artist who died just as his art career was soaring.

After college, Maurice became art professor at A&I in 1965 and ultimately received many awards, wrote numerous books and is credited with more than 30 exhibits.

Maurice was from the Schmidt family that owned the big department store (Jacob Schmidt & Son) on the corner of San Antonio and Castell streets. Maurice’s father Max was the “& Son”. This site originally housed the Phoenix Saloon. Jacob Schmidt’s first business was next door until 1928 when he bought the corner building.

Max and Serene Schmidt were Maurice’s parents and he was the youngest child. Herman was the oldest and then Baruch (Barry). Jacob’s sons, Max and Jeremiah (Jimmy), were well known in NB. Jimmy was an architect who designed many local commercial buildings. Max eventually took over the store. The clerks were courteous and the goods in the store, clothes, linens, shoes were of top quality.

As a child, my mother would drive to the side door on Castell Street, let me out and I would go in to pick up whatever she had ordered on the phone. I would go to the desk in the middle of the store where Mrs. Schmidt was sitting by the cash register. She knew me and I just said, “Charge it”. Gone forever! Everything changed. “Es tut mir leid.”(I’m sorry about that).

In his book, Maurice remembers war time (WW II). His oldest brother Herman was on a gunboat in the Pacific and he and Barry were home. About growing up in NB at this time he says, “The war was far away and segregation, though near, was barely seen and not comprehended since it was so integrated in our daily lives”.

About the Schmidt store, he remembers the ice water fountain and the scale. It was sort of an icon of desegregation, as everyone drank from it. Water and weight were free.

The family went to synagogue in San Antonio. He said that Jewish people would gather in the hotel for a special great holy day season. These people still remembered the old country and “between their Yiddish accents and the German accents of the New Braunfels folks, the only talk that sounded strange to us was a Texas drawl”.

Those were the days, my friend.

Inside Schmidt’s first store. L-R Laura Hinmann Estes, Jacob Schmidt, Heidie Bloedorn, Adolph Feigenbaum, Charlie Lentz and Max Schmidt. Circa 1917.

By Myra Lee Adams Goff

Baron Ottfried von Meusebach dropped his aristocratic title and became John Meusebach when he came to Texas in May of 1845. He was to be the Adelsverein’s second administrator of the German settlement of New Braunfels succeeding Prince Carl. The prince had departed just two months after the first emigrants arrived on March 21, 1845.

Meusebach was left with the big problem of taking care of thousands of emigrants that were on their way from Germany.

The problem was that funds were depleted. By June 1845, the next group of emigrants arrived followed by thousands more from January 1846 to January 1847. Almost no provisions or lodging was provided in Galveston. There they waited for transportation to Carlshaven (Indianola). There they were stranded again.

On the coast there were only a small number of tents and houses to furnish shelter against an unusually cold, wet winter. Many dug holes in the sand, throwing the dirt around the hole over which they laid poles covered with branches and twigs. On top of this they laid bed sheets and table cloths. A few emigrants had funds and hired transportation to the colony. Under such conditions, malaria, diarrhea, scurvy, dropsy and other unidentified diseases spread, wiping out entire families.

Many emigrants walked to New Braunfels and perished along the way. Those who were sick brought disease to the inhabitants of the town. There the sick were placed under a shed constructed of pilings and roofed over with reeds. “Very few of the deceased could be furnished coffins since boards were not available. Almost each morning during summer as many as three bodies wrapped up in sheeting were carried out to the cemetery by a wagoner hired for the purpose and were buried under instructions given by a Sexton employed by the directors” (Hermann Seele, translated by Oscar Haas). Many deceased could not be brought across the flooding Guadalupe and were buried on the east bank.

Surviving orphaned children were placed under a large tent next to the German Protestant Church under the supervision of the Pastor Ervendberg and his wife who would ultimately take in 19 orphans.

It was under these wretched circumstances that John Meusebach found himself. It would be up to him to solve these immense problems. His family’s coat of arms reading TENEX PROPOSITI (perseverance in purpose) would be a strong reminder in the next year.

Pleading with the Adelsverein for additional funds, Meusebach was sent small amounts. After informing the German newspapers of the situation, he got the attention of the Adelsverein and sixty thousand dollars were sent. Although this was a help, he was not able to pay the emigrant’s promised money that the Adelsverein was holding for them. On December 31, discontent on the part of a group of emigrants appeared on this very spot (Sophienburg) demanding their money and threatening to hang Meusebach. Shortly thereafter he put in his resignation and moved to the hill country.

Meusebach is given credit for founding Fredricksburg before his resignation. He was a friend of the Indian tribes and is most remembered for making a treaty with the Comanche Indians, thereby opening up the Texas frontier.

The Comanches called Meusebach “El Sol Colorado” (the red sun) because of his red hair. There is a legendary story in which some Waco squaws playfully led him to the river where they pushed his head and beard into the water to see if it would wash out. They were delighted when it didn’t.

Both John Meusebach and Prince Carl met the challenge ahead of them as best they could with little funds available for a monstrous task. Although hundreds died, thousands survived and went on to build the community that we call New Braunfels. It has been 164 years since those first emigrants crossed the Guadalupe (March 21, 1845).

John Meusebach, 1846