By Myra Lee Adams Goff

Thanks to some early settlers, we have pictures painted with words of what early NB looked like from writers like Roemer, Lindheimer, Brach and the most prolific of all writers, Hermann Seele. Let’s not forget all those personal letters that were saved by families.

One of the best descriptions of the early Mission Valley area was written by Wilhelm (Bill) Adams, the older brother of my grandfather, Louis Adams. In 1937 Bill Adams told his story to his son, Harold Adams, who fortunately for us all, typed Bill’s story as he was speaking.

The paper was copied in its entirety in Alton Rahe’s book, “History of Mission Valley Community”. Excerpts from that paper bear repeating.

Bill Adams and my grandfather Louis were sons of Heinrich and Katarina Doeppenschmidt Adams. Katarina’s father was Jacob Doeppenschmidt, Sr. whose ranch was in the Honey Creek area. Heinrich’s ranch was in the Mission Valley. Both families were ranchers from the beginning. Honey Creek Ranch is now under the care of the Texas Parks and Wildlife.

Heinrich Adams, as a single man, came to Texas and New Braunfels in 1850 from Prussia. A family tradition states that Heinrich was educated in Germany and was in an elite military unit - elite because one had to be over six feet tall to be eligible. That was tall for Europeans in those days. Supposedly he had to leave Germany because he hit an officer. In 1856 he married Katarina Doeppenschmidt, daughter of Jacob and Anna Marie Doeppenschmidt. There were six children; my grandfather was the youngest.

In 1894 after both Heinrich and Katarina had died, second son Bill bought the ranch from his sisters and brothers. My grandfather, Louis, being a minor, went to live with his uncle, Jacob Doeppenschmidt,Jr. Bill was a successful rancher and eventually expanded the ranch to 1100 acres.

Bill was also involved in politics. He served as a Deputy Sheriff and then Comal County Commissioner for eight years and then was elected Sheriff and Tax Collector in 1908-1920. (Source of above by Marilyn Thurman and Jane Brummet, granddaughters of Bill Adams).

Bill’s paints a word picture of the early Mission Valley area. At one time there were no fences and sedge grass was as high as a horse “waving in the wind like waves of the ocean” with no brush and cedar and an occasional live oak. The game was deer, wild hogs, wild turkeys, javelinas, geese, ducks, swans, pelicans, flamingos, wild pigeons (an extinct bird sometimes referred to as the wandering dove because it would drift south in the winter and return in the spring.) There were panthers, various wolves, coyotes, bears, leopards, wild cats, raccoons, opossums, ringtail civet cats, skunks, armadillos and other smaller animals.

Farming in the area started when the settlers arrived and they needed tanks and waterholes. This explains all the types of waterfowl. The most remarkable of all the watering places was the Post Oak Sea, a mile from Adams’ ranch house. It was a large body of water never known to go dry until 1887 and since then held water for only a short time following a series of heavy rains. When all other watering holes were dry and the Guadalupe was down to a trickle, this large body of water was full. If you want to see it, drive out Hwy. 46 and from the intersection of Loop 336, on the right side about four miles, you will see a large tank near the road. That’s not it! Drive a little further and off in the distance you will spot the “Sea” with a small amount of water. Speculations about the “Sea” going dry have gone on for years; some thought there was an earthquake, some felt it had to do with a storm in 1886.

“We young fellows from our neighborhood would get together at the Sea all on horseback with several trained dogs, and waited for the wild hogs to come to the water. The lake was several acres across and a mile in every direction. Good rodeos would take place there between the dogs and hogs.”

Other Bill Adams stories are reprinted in Rahe’s book that can be purchased at the Sophienburg.

On the Adams ranch, early 1900s. Left to right – Gus Reininger, Henry Adams, Bill Adams and H. Dittlinger.

By Myra Lee Adams Goff

“Have you heard? Old Squire Moeschen is dead!” So begins Hermann Seele’s narrative of a murder here in New Braunfels in 1855. Seele spun this true, gruesome tale in his book, “Die Cypress” available at Sophie’s Shop.

Here’s the background: Christof Moeschen, born in 1806 in Thuringia, came to Texas along with his wife Johanna, and a nine-year-old daughter, Friederike. The year was 1844. Seele says their small log cabin built in 1845 was on the Comal Creek and consisted of one room and a porch surrounded by a fence of cedar posts.

For all one knew, the family of three lived a quiet life, but all that changed in 1854 when the Moeschen’s only child, Friederike, married the shoemaker Carl Riebeling. The mother approved of the son-in-law, but the father did not. Hermann Seele had actually performed the wedding and the young couple lived with her parents. Unaccustomed to outdoor work, Riebeling became sick. Moeschen believed the son-in-law was just lazy.

When a baby was born to the young couple and died, Moeschen was so distraught about the death that any harmony that had come about because of the baby disappeared. Moeschen became abusive towards his family. The daughter no longer loved her father. She resented his abusiveness towards her mother and husband. As a result, Mrs. Moeschen and the Riebeling couple contrived a plot to get rid of the old man.

On the day of the murder in early September, 1855, the father returned home exhausted, called his son-in-law a loafer and then fell asleep in a drunken stupor. In the dark of evening, the daughter provided a light, and her husband and mother killed the old man with an ax. All that could be heard was the autumn wind wafting the withered leaves from the trees and a few raindrops.

The mother laid the father whom she said was “kaput” on a mattress and sewed him into a bedspread so that no one could see him. The ax was dropped to the bottom of a pond formed by the creek.

Day dawns. Outside, Mrs. Moeschen called to her neighbor G. Holzmann a laborer going to work. She tells him her husband has died and gives him a string to give to Gerhard who is to make the funeral arrangements. The string is the length of the body.

Gerhard went to the Moeschen home to make some arrangements and asked to look at the body. The family refused because they said he had already been sewed into a shroud. Upon returning to town, Gerhard said to Justice of the Peace Hermann Seele that he was suspicious and Seele called for a coroner’s inquest because of the sudden death.

Funeral arrangements continued and friends began to arrive at the house for the funeral. Present were Pastor Eisenlohr of the German Protestant Church where the family were members, the choral society, many townspeople and the carriage with the empty coffin. .

Inside the inquest was performed.. The corpse was unwrapped from a dark brown checkered bedspread (shroud) and then carried outside and put on a large table. Drs. Remer and Koester prepared for an autopsy. (Yes, right there) Since it was getting dark, lanterns had to be brought from town. After the autopsy, it was determined “The old man has been murdered. Arrest the people.” The three family members were put under arrest.

Through the dark woods, a ghastly procession carrying the casket, proceeded to the sheriff’s home in town. In the Spring of 1856, the trial found all three guilty punishable by imprisonment with hard labor for nine years each.

Additional information to Seele’s narrative was written by Everett Fey in his research about the First Founders of New Braunfels. Volunteer Tom Call researched the trial and found that Johanne Moeschen died in prison and that Friedrike was paroled in 1860 and Carl Riebeling paroled in 1862.

Picture this: The funeral is at the home, the body is brought outside under a tree, an autopsy is performed right there and all the while, family, friends, jury, doctors, singing society are all witness to the whole macabre scene. Forensic science has come a long way.

1845 ax from Hoffmann Company and lanterns made in the early 1850s from Henne’s Tin Sheet Iron Ware, 270 W. San Antonio St. Typical items of this period from the Sophienburg collection.