Photo Caption: This photo was taken Oct 2, 1938, at a Fischer Family Reunion at Cypress Bend Park. Pictured left to right: Albert Fischer, Alvina Fischer Burkhardt, Walter Fischer (Albert’s siblings), Emma Knoll Fischer and Carolina Klinger Fischer (Albert’s mother). The three boys in front are Arlon Jonas, Jerome Mueller and Ewald Haas.

By Keva Hoffmann Boardman —

This autobiographical sketch was written prior to a Reflections: Oral History Program taping recorded on November 13, 1979. Mr. Fischer was born in December of 1896. He was the son of Fritz Fischer and Caroline nee Klinger Fischer and one of 12 children. He passed away 10 months after the recording, at the age of 83.

The following excerpt beautifully describes the joy and wonder of his younger years and his amazing life-long work ethic.

I was born on a farm Dec 9, 1896, in a small rock house at Twin Sisters, Blanco Co, Texas. In those days all small boys wore dresses and being the baby of twelve, I had lots of hand-me-downs.

After this period was over, my brother Walter bought me a four-month-old German Shepherd black dog. When this dog was 1½ years old and grown, Walter made me a gig out of two wheels, an axle seat and two broom sticks. I trained this dog, and after several months, I would get on the seat and drive him anywhere just like a horse. After about a year, I decided that I needed a two-span team and tried to teach a hound for the second member. This worked out very well until one day I was driving my two dogs in the pasture when the hound spotted a jack rabbit and took out after him. I fell off and the rig and harnesses were completely demolished. All the consolation I got out of my brother was, “I told you so!”

On account of my mother’s health, I was not baptized until I was five years old. She was not able to go, but my dad, brother Otto and sister Alwina took me. We drove to church in a big hack pulled by two mules. When we arrived at the church, my brother lifted me out of the hack and as we walked to the building he said, “Now this is your last chance to pick your name. What do you want it to be, Robert, George or Albert?” I picked Albert. Up to this time I was called “Manny”.

At the age of six I started to school. Had to walk two miles. My dog walked half the way with me and at 4:30 he would meet me at the same spot daily for the return walk.

At nine years of age, we moved to New Braunfels. At the country school everything was in German. I could not speak any English until I was eight. The first English I learned was from neighboring colored children. At the beginning of the fourth school year, we started English. Six months of English saved my standing in the New Braunfels School. I was ahead in about half of the studies, so they placed me in the fifth grade but I had to go back to the second grade for history, geography and English. In two years I caught up with the others in these subjects. The first day in the New Braunfels School, the teacher cut up a stick and an apple and explained the fractions. I was way ahead in arithmetic as I could add, divide and multiply fractions. After the adjusting years were over, I sailed away smoothly, never failed, and graduated from High School in the class of ’13 (1913) at the age of 15.

When I was 12, I went to work at a cleaning and pressing shop after school and Saturdays at a starting salary of 90 cents per week. I kept this up until I graduated, at which time I was drawing $5 per week. A little later my boss, Mr. Alex Floege, sold the cleaning shop as he had inherited an interest in a horse collar factory and he talked me into going to work for him at $10 per week. The work was hard and I got to where I could not take it. After six weeks, I went to work for the Henne Family as office boy at the lumber yard at $20 per month. After three years at this job, I was transferred to the general office at the hardware store at $40 per month working under the office manager, Curt Linnartz.

When I left for the Navy in 1918, I was drawing $85 per month which was the fourth highest salary out of their 27 employees. Some of them had been there 20 and 25 years.

During 1918, most of my friends were drafted, as they were several years older than I was and I felt lost at home. There was only one bright spot for me during this period. In those days, most of the boys had bicycles. I worked up a racket. I bought their bikes for $5 and I did not have any hard time selling them for $10. When it came time for me to go to the service, I had two bikes left. I sold one and gave the other to my nephew, Dr. Ottmar Stratemann. That was 60 years ago.

About ten years ago a dentist told me that I needed dentures. A few weeks later I visited Dr. Stratemann and told him what my dentist had told me. He is well acquainted with this dentist, but he decided that it was not necessary for me to get dentures. While we were talking, someone cancelled an appointment and upon learning this, he decided that he could x-ray my teeth during this time and see whether or not the dentist was right. He found the same thing, that is, I had only one good tooth in my mouth. I offered to pay him, but he said, “You don’t owe me anything. Don’t you remember that you gave me a bicycle when I did not have any money to buy one?” I did not expect that, but he insisted so we were squared off.

After the war, Albert went back to his job at Henne’s and then worked for the IRS in Austin. He eventually moved to the Cuero area where he worked for Magnolia Oil Company (MOBIL) and then the Crescent Valley Creamery as office manager.

He was married — twice — and had one son.

In 1952, he made a full circle back to his first job and bought a drycleaning/laundry business. In 1964, he sold that business to his son and retired.

Almost. His son bought a second laundromat in 1978 and Albert took it on. He ended his 1979 autobiographical sketch with a lot of pride in how he lived his life and his accomplishments:

During my business career, I opened or kept from sinking, eight establishments, four for the Crescent Valley Creamery and four for myself. All of them turned out successful and all but one are still operating. At 83, I work eight hours a day, seven days a week, and I enjoy it.

As I said before, Albert C. Fischer passed on 10 months later.

Well done Mr. Fischer, well done.

Sources: Sophienburg Museum & Archives, Fischer family genealogy, Reflections: Oral History Program #155.

“Around the Sophienburg” is published every other weekend in the New Braunfels Herald-Zeitung.