By Myra Lee Adams Goff

Have you ever heard of a place called “der Lustige Strumpf“? In English, it means “the lusty stocking”. Sounds a little suspicious, doesn’t it? Its background and location are a little shady and a little mysterious. Der Lustige Strumpf has been the subject of curiosity on the part of local historians for years.

What was the Lustige Strumpf? We have a small amount of evidence that it was a saloon that might have had various purposes. In 1845, it was located somewhere on eight lots on the then edge of town on the Comal Creek and almost immediately next to the lots given to the Sts. Peter and Paul Catholic Church by the Adelsverein. The eight lots were: #190, 191, 221, 222, 223, 255, 256 and 257 as numbered by Nicholas Zink, surveyor of the Adelsverein. They were on the land originally known as the Zinkenburg set up by Prince Carl for the original emigrants.

Eventually, this whole area of eight lots became known as the Lustige Strumpf, but we still don’t know where the saloon was located.

Everett Fey in his research on first founders believes there were some colonists that arrived after the first founders sometime before 1850 and set up their homes on these lots. Whether they were squatters or exactly who they were is not known. They were given permission to live in this area without taking legal possession.

Almost immediately after the first settlers arrived in March 1845, the town lots drawn up by Zink were assigned. The eight lots referred to were deeded to “assignees.” Fey finds it curious that none of the names as assignees were among the first founders. Those names that were in the Sophienburg Archives were: Peter Sams, Fr. Kunz, J.J. Nickel, Fredrich Heidridi, Jacob Jung, Marburger, Schelper and Wetz. Among the papers was a note stating: “First settlers in cottage; as they moved away, young bachelors (e.g. of the Lustige Strumpf moved in (a) piano.” (Source: Everett Fey)

Artist Carl G. von Iwonski was 15 when he came with his family and settled in Neighborsville across the Guadalupe. As a young man, Iwonski made many sketches of people and scenes from early New Braunfels. In 1857, he drew a picture called “The Lustige Strumpf on Comal Creek.” The original belongs to the Institute of Texan Cultures and a copy was purchased to use in the book “New Braunfels, Comal County, Texas; a Pictorial History”, narrative by Rosemarie Leissner Gregory and Myra Lee Adams Goff. A caption underneath the picture was written by Roger Nuhn who was in charge of the pictorial part of this book. Iwonski is included in the picture seated with pencil in hand (for sale at Sophie’s Shop).

In 1850, a deed was drawn up by the German Emigration Co. to give the eight lots to 10 different “assignees.” They were: Friedrich Braun, Philip Hitzfelder, Hof & J. Steubing, H. Mertz, Adam Kunz, L. Schutz, H. Staats, Scholl, Wagenfuehr and Waldschmidt. Courthouse records of the area are at best confusing. While the lots had been deeded collectively to the 10 assignees, some individuals sold lots to other citizens without the authorization of the other owners.

Then came the railroads. The IGN rolled through New Braunfels in 1880 from San Antonio going north toward Austin. By going along Hill Street, five lots needed to be cleared and two of them were in the Lustige Strumpf, dividing the area into two parts. The MKT Railroad then sliced through five of the remaining lots. Deed records never refer to Lustige Strumpf again.

Over the years, word of mouth stories popped up here and there of “houses of ill repute” along the railroad tracks and along Mill Street but never in the area of the eight lots. Someone must have decided that “Der Lustige Strumpf” was much too intriguing a name for a simple saloon, so the story stuck.

By Myra Lee Adams Goff

When our town was only 7 years old, citizens saw a need for a newspaper. These citizens organized themselves into a company and through public subscription financed what became the second oldest continuous newspaper in Texas. It was in German because that was the mother language, but time changed that. This change paralleled the same changes that have taken place in every aspect of life here in New Braunfels.

At a town meeting, Ferdinand Lindheimer was chosen editor of the Neu Braunfelser Zeitung. Educated in classical culture in German universities, Lindheimer possessed a rebellious nature against the system of political and economic oppression of the German Confederation. He found it necessary to flee his homeland in 1833 when the school in which he was teaching became involved in the Frankfort Riot. This failed attempt by students to gain control of the treasure of the German Confederation was in order to finance a revolution.

Leaving for the United States, he arrived in Illinois, where he found a haven for German intellectuals. It was here that he met a well-known botanist, George Englemann. The field of botany became a vocation for him the rest of his life.

In 1834, Lindheimer left Illinois and made his way down to Mexico, collecting plants and insects. When he heard of the fight for Texas independence, he went to Texas, joined the Texas army and arrived just after the battle of San Jacinto. Out of the army, he tried farming, all the while collecting plants, sending specimens to Engleman. He revisited Illinois and another influential botanist, Asa Grey, offered him money to collect plants. This became a livelihood for something he was fiercely interested in.

He came back to Texas, collecting plants along the way. On the coast, he made the acquaintance of Rev. Louis Ervendberg who introduced him to Prince Carl. He was asked to act as quartermaster and accompany the first emigrants to the interior.

Lindheimer was given land on the Comal River (where the Lindheimer house now stands on Comal Street). Here he lived, botanized, and edited the Zeitung for 20 years. He was well-known throughout the state for his outspoken editorials, especially leading up to the Civil War. A legendary story is that a group who did not agree with his anti-Union stand during the Civil War threw his printing press into the Comal River. Nonetheless, he was well-respected and his last issue was on Aug. 16, 1872.

The next Zeitung editor was Anselm Eiband followed by Ernest Koebig, Ludolph Lafranz and Eugen Kailer. Editor G.F. Oheim was a respected editor from 1899 to 1941. His son, Fredric Oheim succeeded his father as editor and owner.

In the 1890 census, New Braunfels had about 2,000 inhabitants and after the town became more Americanized, the time was right for an English newspaper. This came about in 1892 when some local businessmen supported the idea of an English paper. They called it the New Braunfels Herald. Those supporters were J.D. Guinn, Harry Landa, B.E. Voelcker, S.V. Pfeuffer and they chose Sharp Runnels Whitley as the first editor.

Fast forward to 1929 when Charles Scruggs moved to New Braungels and bought the Herald.

Now the town had two newspapers, the Zeitung edited by Fredric Oheim and the Herald edited by Charles Scruggs. Their offices were across the street from each other on Seguin Avenue. Records showed that the German readers had dropped from 4,000 to 800 subscribers. (Source: Fred Oheim, 1977 Herald)

After the death of Charles Scruggs, his son, Claude Scruggs, took over as editor of the Herald.

He and Oheim agreed to consolidate the two newspapers. All assets were transferred to the Herald and by 1960, the newspaper emerged as the Herald-Zeitung.

In today’s newspaper, the Herald-Zeitung, there is little left of the German, with the exception of proper names like Schmidt, Welsch, Staats and names of old businesses like Henne Hardware, Naegelin Bakery, Ludwig Leather and plenty of “Vereins” and “Fests.”

The newspaper has and is changing with the times.

By Myra Lee Adams Goff

NEW BRAUNFELS - Let’s take a trip to Camp Warnecke. Most of you know where it was, but if you don’t, think of the Schlitterbahn Waterparks property between the San Antonio Street Bridge and the Garden Street Bridge.

Imagine the time being around 1944 during World War II when the world was changing, but Camp Warnecke wasn’t.

Otto and Martha Warnecke bought Camp Warnecke in 1918.

We check in through the bathhouse at a bar made of wood from an old bowling alley. My reflection shows in the mirror behind the bar on which school Principal Curt Schmidt painted a landscape. Now exiting toward the river, we go down concrete stairs to individual dressing stalls. Hot and spider-ridden, we can’t stay there long.

Clad in our bathing suits, we continue going down toward the river. Let’s hurry to reserve one of the 10 round concrete platforms for sunbathing, the brainchild of owner Otto Warnecke.

We see the traditional picnic tables under beautiful shade trees along the banks and an inner tube concession run by the Warnecke’s son-in-law, Othmar Baetge.

Because it’s war-time, it is impossible to buy tubes, so Baetge patches them over and over again. Incidentally, he will charge more if the tube is damaged on return. There’s also a canoe concession next to the tubes run by Raymond Popp.

Let’s go to the Camp Warnecke rapids. At some point, the river had been dammed up, leaving an open space forming the famous rapids. Pipes had been bored in the limestone rock and wooden boards put behind them, forcing the water to go through the opening. An old waterwheel that washed down in one of the earlier floods makes a picturesque background. Right here in the rapids is where serious tubing began. We hook tubes together in trains, dive in to catch ledges, and avoid the whirlpools.

But there is more to Camp Warnecke than swimming. The big screened-in structure attached to the bathhouse is a popular dance floor with Nickelodeon music. Sentimental strains of wartime music like “Dream” and “The White Cliffs of Dover” float through the air.

Attached to the bathhouse on the left of the entrance is a restaurant. Martha “Oma” Warnecke buys textile mill checkered material at 5 cents a yard and makes tablecloths and napkins for the tables. Fresh flowers are on every table. A sprinkler system installed on the roof of the entire building makes the whole building about 10 degrees cooler than it is outside.

The restaurant is very popular with townspeople as well as tourists. Oma makes special things like butter roses, homemade yeast rolls, peach cobbler and serves Mrs. Hoffman’s chocolate cake. Mrs. Hoffman has a baking business in her home on Comal Street and the cake is a favorite of New Braunfels children.

Oma works very hard in the restaurant but loves the details. She raises goats, sheep and ducks across the street. In the winter, she makes jelly and sews sheets, pillowcases and curtains. She even plucks feathers to make feather pillows.

There are 80 cottages for rent, a few stone, but mostly wooden. One-room, screened structures predominate, but some are larger with as many as 30 beds. The charge per person for staying in the cabins is 50 cents if you furnish your own towels and sheets and 75 cents if the camp furnishes them.

The Warnecke’s daughter, Anona, takes care of reservations and by August, all reservations are filled for the next year. Othmar and Anona Baetge’s daughter, Martha Jo, Oma’s namesake, spends lots of time at Camp Warnecke. The Warnecke’s other daughter, Mamie, and husband Max Winkler, live out of town but their children Max, Charles, and Marlena spend many summers with their grandparents.

Now look forward to 2011. Martha Warnecke sold the camp in 1946 and it has undergone many changes since that time. With a blink of an eye, Camp Warnecke is gone!

For related information, visit http://www.sophienburg.com and read April 28, 2009 - The Other Place and Aug 23, 2006 - Camp Warnecke.