By Keva Hoffmann Boardman —

It’s a crumbling brown leather belt with an insert of linked silver-plated rectangular batteries. It might not look like much, but this curious artifact, an electric belt, represents a weird and wonderful era in the history of electricity.

Electrotherapy — using electricity to stimulate nerves and muscles — goes way back to Egyptian times. Patients were treated for pain, gout and baldness with the shocks from electric fish. Scientists, physicians and inventors began experimenting with electricity in the 18th century. The first battery was developed in 1800. The mid-19th century led to technological advances such as the steam engine, the telegraph and the electric light bulb. Electricity was fueling radical changes in the world.

At the 1851 London World’s Fair, the “Hydro-electric Belt” was exhibited. The batteries and electrodes sent an electric current through the belt’s wearer. It was billed as a “miracle cure” for just about everything: arthritis, rheumatism, sciatica, gout, glaucoma, migraines, depression/anxiety, weakness, poor memory, liver disease, hernias, nervous disorders, indigestion and even impotency.

Uh huh. Too good to be true? People didn’t think so. Queen Victoria’s personal doctors bought into it as did Charles Dickens. Based on what we know about electrotherapy today, it might have helped with nerve and muscle pain and regeneration. But no matter, because the lovely vision painted by the inventors was more than enough to sell to a public enamored with the magic and power of electricity.

Companies were soon manufacturing batteries and designing their own electric belts for what became an insatiable market. Slick advertisements, with colorful images of lightning bolts and strong healthy people using the electric belt and other devices, made up 25 percent of all advertising in 1880. You see the miraculous electric belt in newspapers, medical journals and mail-order magazines like Sears & Roebuck.

Still, many in the medical profession preached caution and spoke out against the “quakery and suspicious backgrounds” of the inventors and companies selling electric health wares. They agreed that there were valid uses for electricity in cauterization, resuscitation and treatment of pain, paralysis and neurological disorders. But the public wanted it all to be true. Tens of thousands of electric belts were sold in the US alone between 1890 and 1920.

The Sophienburg Museum was gifted the pictured electric belt in 1979. There is the leather belt, the chain battery pack, several wool-covered circular zinc electrodes with wires, a current regulator and a “suspensory” accessory. It came with a booklet printed in German in 1900 containing instructions for use. This is important; to achieve optimal results, you had to place the electrodes in the proper place in the proper way. The belt is charged by dipping the battery in a solution of ¼ clear vinegar to ¾ water. (in some cases, the person’s sweat would work) and repeated use was suggested. The “suspensory” accessory in the museum’s belt is for male patients (read special pouch for electrode to use on the family jewels) and could be attached to the belt and used for … ahem … well, to stimulate blood flow. To quote the maker, the belt “has sufficient volume to saturate every nerve and vital organ of the body with electrical force; it pours this life into the body for hours at a time in a slow, continuous stream.” The regulator allowed the wearer to change the power of the current flowing through the belt. “One Belt is enough for a family for six or eight, as it is worn only from three to six hours a day.”

Notice the belt’s condition. The leather is not so much crumbling from age as it is burned. Burned! This was not a comfortable experience despite the happy faces of the men and women in the booklet. The addition of the “regulator” on the Museum’s belt and wool covers on the circular zinc electrodes were to “alleviate burning and blistering of the skin”. One article said that you were to “read a lovely story book” while taking the treatment, as if that would take your mind off things. Of course, for some people this just might have been a pleasant experience.

I like lots of things about this artifact, but one of the striking things about it is its decorative nature. Back in Victorian times, utilitarian things were also made to look beautiful. They were all about form and function; currently, we are all about function. The battery chain pack has silver-plated cases (better for conducting an electrical current) with a pierced decoration filled with ruby red enameling or glass and nice pretty clasps on the ends. On its own, it would make a lovely belt. The leather belt fastens with plated buckles embellished with a coin-like medallion featuring a Roman soldier. At the very least, one would feel stylish while doing the electric belt thing.

Our electric belt was manufactured by Dr. M.A. McLaughlin, who seems to have had offices in Australia, the US, Cuba, China, India, Canada and Europe. McLaughlin’s advertised it had patents in both the US and the UK. There was supposed to have been an office in Dallas, Texas.

We have the electric belt on display in the pharmacy exhibit. There are other unusual items in the exhibit: wire thumb cages to prevent thumb-sucking, cod liver oil, patent medicines, an assortment of mortar and pestles and huge prescription ledgers used by the pharmacist.

Sources: “Dr. McLaughlin’s Electrical Belt”, Sophienburg Museum; “When Self Electrocution Was Used to Cure What Ails You”, Krissy Howard; “Good Vibrations: The History of Electrotherapy”; “It’s Electric! Electrotherapy and Bioelectricity on Display the NMHM”, Emily Morris; “Electric Health”, Steve Fowler; “History of Electrostimulation”, Bluetens; “Memories and Miscellany”, June 5, 2021; https://atlasobscura.com/articles/the-victorian-tool-for-everything.

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

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By Tara V. Kohlenberg — 

I watch rooftops multiply daily as I look out from our house of more than 30 years. I will not lie. It is distressing. It truly makes me appreciate the beautiful well-built 100-plus-year-old buildings that grace our city. Being a native, I often wonder what has become of the many others that no longer stand in their places.

In the mid-’60s, there was a young dentist who officed in a little house on Comal Avenue. It was the cutest little two-or-three-room house, gray with a red tin roof and red window trim. That dentist was Dr. Kahler. While he was away studying orthodontics, Dr. Hubert Risinger occupied his office. Dr. Risinger was my dentist for a short time.

The cute little house was originally owned by the Heinrich Scholl family. The Scholls, consisting of Heinrich Scholl and wife Anna Marie Saenger Scholl, along with their three children, Heinrich Jr., Adam and Caroline, set out for Texas from their home in Dillenburg, Nassau, Germany, with other immigrants through the Adelsverein. Upon arriving in Indianola, tragedy struck the Scholl family. Heinrich Sr. went hunting in a boat, fell out and drowned.

His wife and her three children continued to New Braunfels. The family worked hard to survive. The boys, Heinrich Jr. and Adam, learned carpentry and the mother kept boarders. Adam and Heinrich made the windows and doors used in building houses, which became an outstanding business. At one time, they worked for Dr. Koester in a mill. Later they made chairs and tables of walnut and cedar. The Scholl brothers also built houses and built them well.

Shortly after the Scholls reached New Braunfels, the Mexican American war broke out creating trouble for those in the young German settlement. Some men enlisted in the American Army while others were not interested in war. They had left Germany to escape mandatory military service. According to Scholl family historians, Heinrich Jr, Adam and a few other men of their age decided they would hide in hollow trees down on the Comal River to escape the soldiers who were rounding up men to fight.

The Scholl home was not far from the river, so Adam, being the bravest or the hungriest, decided he would venture out of hiding to go home for food. Adam dressed as a woman with a big sunbonnet on. About the time he got in the house, a soldier knocked at the door. He told Caroline Scholl he had seen a suspicious character come into her house. In the meantime, she had shoved her brother Adam under her bed where there was a trap door to the cellar. She denied seeing anyone, telling the soldier that there was no one else there. Adam, thinking the soldier had left, peeped from out from under the bed. Caroline quickly shoved him back with her foot and the soldier was none the wiser.

Heinrich Scholl, Jr. married twice. His first marriage was to Johanna Schmidt, which produced five children. After her death, he married Louise Schneider. They had nine children including two sets of twins. Heinrich became a well-known cabinet maker in New Braunfels and eventually lived in the house across the street from the original home. He died in 1909 at the age of 81.

The old original Scholl home ca.1846 is now near 179 years old. It is solidly built and still standing, even though not in its original place. It is a unique house in that it utilizes two different kinds of fachwerk. In the front wall of the house, builders used “rammed earth” fachwerk . That is much like pouring a curb today. Forms are set up and then mud is poured in between to fill the space. The mud is ‘rammed” with a long pole to remove any air pockets. Once the mud dries/hardens, the forms are removed, and plaster is applied to both sides to make a smooth wall.

The other three walls are made of mud brick. In Germany, they used fired brick. Here in Texas, they made bricks of mud and straw in brick molds, then air dried them before putting them in between the timbers. Once the dry bricks complete the walls, cedar shingles were placed on the exterior to prevent erosion. Inside the home, they used original Bastrop pine for both the floors and ceilings. It was originally built over a wonderful root cellar, which must have served as a good hiding place. The roof was of cedar shingles. In 1867, the city of New Braunfels passed an ordinance requiring all roofs to be fireproofed for insurance purposes, so tin was simply nailed over the shingles. In 1881, 90 percent of New Braunfels’ structures were fachwerk. Now, 95 percent of them are gone.

By the mid-1960s, the porch of the little house had been closed in to make another room. More windows were added. The exterior of the entire building was wrapped in wood shiplap siding. The little house changed hands over the years with room additions made. Wayne and Toni Peters purchased it in 1987 to use as a summer home. When they completed their rock home behind it in 1999, they graciously donated the little fachwerk house to the New Braunfels Conservation Society.

In its new place among the other architectural treasures, it serves as the office for New Braunfels Conservation Society Old Towne. The Scholl Peters house has been returned to near its original state with the “rammed earth” fachwerk and mud bricks still visible thru Plexiglas windows on the walls. The little house that I thought had “gone missing” was indeed hiding in plain sight all along. When buildings disappear, our history connection disappears. It makes me happy to see the Scholl house and history being cared for.

Do you know of any hidden fachwerk buildings?

Sources: New Braunfels Conservation Society; Sophienburg Museum and Archives; Betty Stratemann.

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

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By Keva Hoffmann Boardman —

On February 16, 1963, San Antonio Express and News staff writer Jerry Deal ran a story in the San Antonio Express and News about Laredo, Texas. This is an out take: “… the friendly city of Laredo is not only the oldest independent town established in Texas (1755) — it is one of the most famous. The only Texas city to have been under seven flags.”

Laredo’s seventh flag was the flag of the Republic of the Rio Grande. This republic, fighting against Mexico, lasted from January 1840 to November 1840.

For those not blessed enough to be born-and-raised in Texas, Texas has had the flags of six nations fly over it. An unknown author penned, “It has not been a simple plot that has unfolded to produce the Texas of today…(one) that brought a succession of six flags while sovereignty over Texas changed eight times….” (yes, we used to speak and write this way even without AI).

The sequence of the six flags follows: 1. Spain (1519-1685) and (1690-1821), 2. France (1685-1690), 3. Mexico (1821-1836), 4. Republic of Texas (1836-1845), 5. United States of America (1846-1861) and (1865 to present) and 6. Confederate States of America (1861-1865).

Upon reading the SA Express and News article, Oscar Haas, local NB historian and record-keeper, promptly informed New Braunfels Chamber of Commerce Manager Tom Purdum of a major oversight — New Braunfels had also had a seventh flag. He asked Mr. Purdum to address the egregious statement in the SA Express and gave him “ammunition” to fight with. Tom Purdum wasted no time in sending staff writer Jerry Deal a short concise letter three days later (Feb 19).

“This is in reference to your article on Laredo appearing in the Saturday Feb. 16 edition of the San Antonio Express. We wish to offer you a correction concerning your statement that Laredo is the only Texas city to have been under seven flags. If you will refer to an article appearing in the San Antonio Express Monday, July 2, 1962, entitled “New Braunfels Once Under Austrian Flag”, you will notice there are two cities boasting seven banners in their history. Also, New Braunfels is probably the only Texas city founded by a prince of a foreign power.”

Brilliant gentleman. Referencing the paper to its own published article — an article which states that Prince Carl of Braunfels raised the Austrian flag up on Sophienburg Hill on April 27, 1845. Why the Austrian flag? A German flag could not be found among the immigrants. Why? Because a unified Germany did not exist until 1848; before that, it was just a collection of independent states. My question is who brought an Austrian flag with them?

But Oscar knew even more about that ceremony. The black and yellow Austrian flag was hoisted by Prince Carl under cannon salutes with lots of pomp and circumstance, including a banquet for his friends. Seems the new immigrants had different ideas. Those in opposition to the reminder of a feudal system they had chosen to forget, met at the newly plotted-out Main Plaza at the same time to hoist a flag of their own — the flag of the Republic of Texas. They also formed their own citizen-based militia to protect the new settlement from possible Native American attacks. It didn’t take these new Texans long to feel the pull of this great state and the power of new freedoms.

Did Jerry Deal respond to Mr. Purdum’s letter? I didn’t find a response per say. I did find another article published a year later in the San Antonio Express on Monday, Feb 17, 1964. It is almost the same article about the history of Laredo, and its title, “Texas Seventh Flag Flew Briefly for Rio Republic” didn’t bode well for our miffed letter-writing townsmen. In fact, it seemed that the San Antonio Express ignored the letter. But, as I read through the article several times, I noticed that the words, “the only Texas city to have been under seven flags” had been omitted. I guess they did sort of get the point.

Now I know you will be saying, “But NB has only been here since 1845, so really only four flags have flown over it.” Yes, that is true, but if Laredo can claim seven flags, so can we. As part of Texas, the land we love living on has been under the flags of seven nations.

Thank you, Oscar and Tom, for standing up for our fair city of New Braunfels and letting the San Antonio Express, nay, the world know that we, too, have lived under seven flags. Proud to be a Neu Braunfelser! Proud to be TEXAN!

Sources: Sophienburg Museum & Archives, #0009 Oscar Haas collection.

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

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By Tara V. Kohlenberg —

For more than 90 years, the Sophienburg Museum and Archives has maintained artifacts and archival documents to keep the history of New Braunfels alive. Part of our mission is to not only preserve the history of New Braunfels, but to share the stories with the generations that follow. It is both exciting and necessary for the next generation to come back and share with us.

In an effort to promote the love of history, the Sophienburg Memorial Association established the Sophienburg History Award honoring Myra Lee Adams Goff for her dedication to the community and her steadfast love of history. The award, established in 2013, recognizes a student who demonstrates a love and passion for New Braunfels history. The 2025 recipient chosen by the Sophienburg Memorial Association is Rebecca Zuniga. She is a senior at New Braunfels High School and will be attending Endicott College in Massachusetts in the fall. The following is an essay about a historically significant event or person in Comal County submitted as a requirement of the scholarship application.

By Rebecca Zuniga

On the heels of Women’s History Month, I want to recognize someone who has worked together with our community to pave a pathway to honor and dignify those who have come before us and perhaps easily forgotten through the rigors of life. New Braunfels has had many great people who have worked to mold and shape its community to be what it is today and left a profound impact on our identity as a community and on us as individuals. One person near and dear to my life and a living historian, has been at the forefront of a grand partnership with the Sophienburg Museum to expand the documentation of the rich history and cultural heritage of New Braunfels, and carry out its mission of telling the stories about real people in our community.

Estella Delgado Farias is my grandmother. She is a humble woman who has always had a giving heart, especially when it comes to family. Growing up, she would ensure I understood that family had existed before me who shaped who I was, even if I didn’t know who they were directly. She ensured that I knew where our ancestors had come from, and how far my family and I have been able to get today because of them, and the many partnerships they developed in our community along the way. Her passion for ancestry and heritage, has been a driving force for her work in establishing a genealogy database for people in New Braunfels that are of Mexican descent. She had a vision, and through the work of equally visionary community members, she brought it to life. Because of her leadership, she gave our community time to pause and reflect upon the many Mexican American New Braunfelsers, whose families transcend generations, and lived to lay the foundation to the New Braunfels we know today.

As a young child in elementary school, my own experience through her efforts seemed minimal at the time, but as I have researched, interviewed and learned more about her work, I have been in awe of all she has accomplished. One weekend, my grandmother asked my sister and me if we would like to help her with a project she was working on. Not thinking much of it, we said yes, and so she took us along with our cousins to Our Lady of Perpetual Help Cemetery. At the time, none of us truly understood why we had to tell her the names on gravestones as well as that person’s birthdate and death date, however, I now understand what she was doing. She was completing records for the cemetery and securing the resting place for the many people who were lost because of incomplete records. There were some graves that hadn’t been formally documented, but she knew that leaving the records as they were was not an option. She wanted to ensure that everyone was accounted for and had their special resting place known. She validated the many lives of people she did not personally know. My grandmother believes that no one should ever be forgotten and their work has shown exactly that.

Through the years, she has been able to give a voice to a section of the New Braunfels community that has always felt forgotten. Estella Farias’ work isn’t only of historical preservation, but of also giving hope to the Mexican-Americans of New Braunfels that their history is important enough to be documented and recognized along with all others.

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

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(Reprint of AROUND THE SOPHIENBURG article published March 31, 2009, 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 was 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 (March 21, 1845), 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 Pennsylvania Dutch who brought the Easter customs to America. 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.

Karl and Helen Kypfer Zipp are a multi-generational family here in NB that celebrate 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 a 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 storytelling and singing. That was the most fun of all.

Addendum:

Karl Zipp passed away Dec 9, 2016. The Kypfer Family descendants still gather at the old Kypfer homestead to celebrate Easter and family. It is a tradition that has lasted for seven generations!

You can read more of Myra Lee’s stories at http://sophienburg.wpenginepowered.com/museum/around-the-sophienburg or purchase her book at Sophie’s Shop in the Sophienburg Museum.

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

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By Tara V. Kohlenberg —

We are fortunate to live in a community proud of its heritage, culture and architecture. Our historic districts and downtown are proof of that pride. It seems so very idyllic, people creating a community by the river, building homes and businesses. The town prospers and new brick buildings to replacing the first crude wooden structures so that they will last. Or do they?

Those that we still see close to Main Plaza seem to be surviving, but a number of lavish 19th- and early 20th-century homes were torn down to make way for business structures. Think Landa mansion or the Timmermann house. I think of them as “ghost homes,” because the memory of their haunting beauty is all that is left.

One such ghost home stood on the corner of W. San Antiono Street and Academy Avenue where it was first occupied by the Holz family. Nicholas Holz, at age 20, immigrated from Germany in 1852. He was a blacksmith and wheelwright by trade who did well over the years. His son, Adolph, joined him in N. Holz & Son Implement Co. and in 1908, they built a large two-story building at 474 W. San Antonio St. to sell farm implements, buggies, and wagons. In 1909, Nicholas retired from business and it was sold to Bartels, Sands & Co.

That same year, Adolph Holz engaged architect Carl von Seutter of San Antonio to design a magnificent home at 417 W. San Antonio St. Von Seutter was well known for designing the now-historic home for Otto Koehler, founder of the San Antonio Brewing Association which became Pearl Brewing Company.

The magnificent home was built by Christian Herry for $15,000 with a crew of about 15, including his sons. Louis Herry was the project superintendent. Son Otto was the masonry foreman and son Alfred was a plasterer. The house was a two-story brick with elements of both Greek Revival and Beaux Arts styles of architecture. The building’s symmetry was offset by gabled front and side-porch porticos. Large, ornate Corinthian columns supported double galleries with heavy balustrades, gracefully wrapping around the front and side of the house.

The opulence of the interior was testament to the owner’s wealth. The grand staircase and house trims were all dark wood. The entry hall floor was parquet laid out in 12-nch sheets. The living room walls had special designs created in plaster to look like large picture frames without the pictures. A mural in a tree pattern was painted on the dining room walls. At the back of the house was a solarium with black and white tiles with a view of a magnolia tree.

The tin roof was crafted to resemble Spanish tile. Beneath the house, a large basement held a washroom and a storage space for wood carried upstairs in a dumbwaiter. Behind the house was a carriage house/livery that eventually became a garage.

After the elder Holzs died in 1910 and 1915, Adolph turned his sales savvy to real estate development. He and his wife raised their four children while enjoying a healthy social life. He was neighbors with George Eiband and Wm. Clemens. Things seemed to go south, however, when multiple lawsuits over real estate compensation were filed against Adolph and wife, Hulda, in the early ‘20s. Multiple properties were sold on the courthouse steps to satisfy their debts, including the implement building at 474 and a storefront at 301 W. San Antonio (now Clay Casa) in 1921. The house was sold to Otto Timmermann Sr. for $19,500 (about $2.5 million today) in 1924 before she and Adolph moved to San Antonio. Hulda died in 1925 after a long illness. Adolph ended up working as a farm laborer in Atascosa County for a time before living out his life with daughter and son-in-law, Ella and Harry Kastener in Milltown.

The next resident of the house was Otto Timmermann Sr. He was the son of Heinrich “Henry” Timmermann, who immigrated in 1850. Mr. Timmermann and wife, Alma Stautzenberger, of Guadalupe County, were farmers. He was said to be the land baron of Geronimo Creek. Upon his retirement, they moved into the old Holz mansion.

Otto Sr. lived in the home about 14 years until his death in 1938. Mrs. Timmermann continued to live in the house on the first floor. After World War II, when returning soldiers took up most of the town’s apartments for rent, Mrs. Timmermann rented out the top floor as a separate apartment. The second floor had a small kitchen, a living room, bedrooms and one bathroom in the hall. One of the bedrooms had six windows. Boarders had to use the back stairs and door, never the main entrance.

Mrs. Timmermann died in 1960. In 1962, the estate sold her house to Rudy Seidel. He used it as a temporary warehouse for hi-fidelity consoles, radios, cameras and electronic flash equipment for Seidel Camera next door. The house was then sold to Howard Hoerster.

It was said that the house had fallen into disrepair, but as a little girl, I looked at that house every time we passed by on the way to my Oma’s house. The grand entryway out front was huge in my eyes. I really wanted to be able to go inside one day, but that was not to be. In January of 1964, the beautiful, old, stately mansion was torn down. I cried. At seven years old, even though I did not know anyone that lived there or how important the architect was, I knew it was a treasure lost and I cried.

Howard Hoerster owned Hoerster Tire & Supply, which was previously located at 270 W. San Antonio St. (now Gourmage). They tore down everything but the large magnolia tree that stood outside the solarium window. They filled in the basement, smoothed it over and built a brand new 6500 square foot brick tire store and service center. The building served thousands of automobiles over time as Hoerster, Goodyear Service Center and DeStefano Tire before being refitted as an office building a couple of years ago.

I have visited Europe and have seen for myself the way different communities hold on to their culture. They still live and work in places that are sometimes 1,000 years old. The structures are proudly maintained for the next generation. Even in areas where war has scarred the land, buildings show dedication to restoration. They are not torn down or drastically altered for the new and trendy. I hope that New Braunfels can embrace and support our historical organizations and commissions in trying to prevent our architectural treasures from becoming “ghosts” as New Braunfels continues to grow at breakneck speed.

Sources: Sophienburg Museum and Archives.

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

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By Keva Hoffmann Boardman —

It used to be when you traveled, you would pick up postcards at all the locations you visited. Then you would either send them home to family and friends or keep them as a souvenir. Postcards were cheap, easy and extremely portable. The coming of the digital age has made the popularity of postcards shrink considerably. We no longer buy a card, address it, go find a post office, buy stamps and send a post card; although, in foreign countries, this process could and often did entail laughter and make memories in and of itself. Today, we use our phone to take a photo and “post” it on social media almost immediately letting friends and family in on our travels. I recently got a postcard from a friend in France that I had to pay postage on to receive — they had posted it without postage. Still, it was nice thought.

Looking through the postcard collection of the Sophienburg Museum and Archives, I began to see how today we are missing the personal nature of sending a postcard. Many cards in the collection had been chosen to either remember an event or location or to appeal to the one who received the card and message. They were little “hellos” from loved ones (like to or from a soldier in WWI), a reminder of love (to girl or boyfriends), a reassurance to parents as to one’s safety and prosperity, or an announcement of some personal benchmark (promotion, marriage or baby). I still can pick up books at home and find postcards I used as bookmarks, and I’m immediately taken back in time to remember a person or place.

These little 3 ½ by 5 ½ inch pieces of cardstock have a fairly long history. As early as the 1860s, postcards were printed by both private publishers and country postal systems. These were blank on one side for an “open” message and printed with a stamp on the other side which was also where the address was to be written. By the 1870s, the cost to send a postcard was one penny in the U.S.; that was half the amount of a letter in an envelope.

Illustrated postcards came along in the 1890s. These are mostly greyscale (black and white) line drawings, etchings or engravings of locations. Since the illustrations filled one side of the card, the other side was divided; the right half provided space for stamp and address and the left half had room for a short message. Sometimes there was a wider border on the illustration side that could be used to continue the message.

As people grew more and more mobile via first the railroads and then cars, and as they had more “free time” and spare cash, vacation travel cards became very popular. The 1890s saw an uptick in the thousands of cards printed and sold. Early photographers got into the trend and produced stunning black-and-white photographs of towns, country landscapes, ancient ruins and beaches, as well as iconic works of art and cultural rituals. The world was becoming smaller each time a postcard was, well, posted. They were also collected to place in albums as souvenirs of special holiday vacations.

Postcards from 1915 to the 1930s are mostly printed with a white border. These early color views were produced with colored ink on inexpensive cardstock. They have a white border around the image to save on ink. The illustration also usually has a caption. In the 1930s, postcards are printed on a higher quality paper with a linen-like texture and no white border. The ink colors, on both of these early 20th century postcards, are vivid and intense and sometimes unusual. The color photo postcards we are familiar with today began to show up at gas stations as souvenirs in the 1940s.

There is actually a name for postcard collectors — a deltiologist. Greek deltos (small tablet or letter) and logia (study of). This appellation was coined at Ohio State University in 1945. Prior to that, postcard enthusiasts were called philocartists, a name akin to stamp collectors, philatelists. It’s all Greek to me.

The Sophienburg Museum & Archives collects postcards because they are important in research. They depict specific times and scenes in New Braunfels history. They chronicle our cultural and social events. Postcards can be utilized to teach geography and writing skills to our children. But they are also beautiful and just plain fun.

Beginning in April, an exhibition at The Sophienburg will showcase many postcard images of New Braunfels and Comal County from the collection. I guarantee it will take you back in time in a visually stunning way.

FYI: Postcard collecting is the third largest collecting hobby, eclipsed only by stamp collecting and coin/banknote collecting.

Sources: Sophienburg postcard collection; Smithsonian Institution Archives – Postcards; The Postal Museum – Postcards.

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

The post Posting memories appeared first on Sophies Shop.

By Tara V. Kohlenberg —

While scouring an old Herald-Zeitung for some trivial unrelated detail, I came across a photo of an early 20th century view of downtown New Braunfels. It was taken from a postcard of West San Antonio Street. The corresponding article described the names and locations of the businesses that would have been seen in that photo, alongside the same information from the view in 1973. I was able to find the color version of the postcard at the Sophienburg Museum and Archives.

Today, we will do a little time-travel Tour of West San Antonio Street. Get your time-travel goggles on and try to keep up as we go block by block. Looking down West San Antonio from Main Plaza, the first building visible on the left side where the old Texas Commerce Bank stands, was the Robert Krause Building. Built in 1860, the red brick building with a covered porch housed the O.L. Pfannstiel Racket Store and the F.C. Hoffmann Jewelry Store, with both families living upstairs. It was razed in 1931 to build the art deco First National Bank.

Adjoining the first Robert Krause building was the Piggly Wiggly store, Keinburgs Restaurant then Ed Moeller’s Cafe and Pete Wagenfuehr’s barbershop. Together, the spaces became Krause’s Fashions in the ‘60s and ‘70s. That whole building was taken in by Texas Commerce Bank in their early 1980s expansion/remodel of First National Bank.

The corner of West San Antonio and Castell was the site of the Oberkampf Saloon and Beer Garden. Jacob Schmidt built a three-story building in 1922, housing the Jacob Schmidt Company on the ground floor until the ‘80s. It is now occupied by the Phoenix Saloon.

Across Castell, on the corner was S.V. Pfeuffer & Holm Department Store and the post office. Woolworth’s occupied the whole first floor of that building until sometime in the 80s. The building now houses the Downtown Antique Mall.

Next in line at 223 W. San Antonio, was Willie Ludwig Saloon which became JCPenney, now home to Scores. Next, at 233, was Charles Wells Bakery, which became Plumeyer’s Bakery and eventually Poll Parrot Shoes. Mode O’Day ladies’ fashions occupied the 239 W. San Antonio building in the ‘60s-’70s. Both of the buildings housing Poll Parrot and Mode O’Day are home to the Art League. Next to that was Peerless Pharmacy, which became today’s Dancing Pony. Keep in mind that the upstairs of all of these buildings were occupied by doctors, lawyers, and other offices.

Close to the middle of the block was the original grand Seekatz Opera House, which burned to the ground in 1941. The replacement building housed the Jacob Mendlowitz Company before being taken over by Paul Bruner’s in the 1970s. Bruner’s was noted for the large floor-to-ceiling display windows and a center island of display windows out front. Ron Snider remodeled the retail space into a venue, calling it the Seekatz Opera House in the ‘90s. It is now the home of Traveling Gypsy Antiques.

The little narrow building, Elizabeth James Salon, originally housed Seekatz Butcher Shop followed by New Braunfels Candy Kitchen in the ‘30s and Great Western Finance in the ‘60s-’70s. Heritage Supply occupies the 1918 red brick building which in past years was home to Braunfels Studio.

The current Lone Star Lounge was originally Rahe Grocery. Over the years it became the Depot Drink Stand and Ortiz’s Recreation Center and more recently The Cork Wine Bar. On the end, before the railroad tracks, there was originally something called Seekatz Candy Store which is where Staunch Rugged Clothing is located.

Beginning back at the Plaza to time travel down the right side of the street, where Moody Bank now stands, was a different (new) Krause Building. In the early 1900s, it housed the Streuer Brothers Saloon with a bowling alley in the back. After that, a slick new modern building was built to house the United Gas Company with lots of windows over black, glass-like panels. It was remodeled by Guaranty State Bank.

Next to that, was Streuer & Hoffmann Co. groceries, followed by William Tays Saddlery and harness Shop. In 1910, R.B. Richter built a two-story brick building to house Richter’s Drug Store with the family quarters upstairs. A narrow part of the ground floor was parsed out for Imperial Barber Shop which maintained that spot until at least the late ‘70s. Every teen girl of the ‘70s will remember that the vacated drug store space became the Hang-Up apparel store. It is now Remax Realty. R.B. Richter built a smaller two-story building next door in 1920. It housed Shellaby’s for 20 years and is now occupied by Capital Title.

The current Callaghan’s Pub is a collection of buildings. Originally the Gruene Building sat on the corner of Castell housing the Baetge Saloon. When two newer one-story buildings were built, the Jacob Mendlowitz Company occupied them with a small shop parsed out for Rachelle’s Fashions.

Across Castell, the original Voelker Drug Store, became Shoeland, Ray Allen’s Mens Wear, Chollett’s and then Red Stag. The adjacent new rooftop bar, Cowboys and Cadillacs, sits on a long history of tenants including Ludewig Furniture, Stehling Brothers, Paul Bruner’s, Anthony’s and Seguin Beauty.

Elite Barber Shop spot was at one time the site of Buske Restaurant. In the ‘60s it was occupied by Goepf Jewelers and then Johnson Barber Shop. The Scoop Street slot was occupied by Plaza Meat Market at the turn of the century. The latest building on that site has hosted M&M Jewelers and James Avery Jewelry.

Before it was Moonshine and Ale, it was Fritz Schumann Butcher Shop, H. V. Schumann Drug, and in the ‘60s and ‘70s, Connie’s Shoes.

The 1893 Louis Henne building has always housed Henne Hardware. Sadly, after more than 130 years, it is no longer a hardware store. Across the alley is the original Henne Tin Shop, the stucco building previously the home of Kneupper’s Music in the ‘30s, Kickin’ K and now Le Petite Sweet. Gourmage occupies what was Goepf Jewelers in the 30s, and possibly where Hoerster Goodyear Tire was pre-1968. Both of those buildings housed H&H Sales (fabric) and is where Ducky’s started out.

The old First National Bank building later became City Bakery, Ye Olde Music Shoppe and eventually Mayo Investments. The Brauntex Theatre was built in 1942 on the site of the old John Faust Company.

Our city changes constantly, but we have managed to hold on to our downtown culture. I have only hit on the highlights of the past 115 years. This is by no means an exhaustive list, but I am sure that no matter your age, you will recognize a few of these places on West San Antonio Street. Perhaps it will jar a memory loose, like cherry phosphates at Peerless Pharmacy or new Easter shoes at Poll Parrot.

Source: Sophienburg Museum and Archives.

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

The post West San Antonio Street — Now and then appeared first on Sophies Shop.

By Keva Hoffmann Boardman —

On February 27, 1977, Herb Skoog recorded the 21st interview of the Sophienburg Museum’s “Reflections” oral history program. Herb interviewed Jerome Nowotny. It is one of the best episodes in the series — a real humdinger.

Jerome Nowotny is perhaps best remembered for his enormous “Beer Bottles of the World” collection. 6,000-plus bottles are on permanent display on the Wurstfest grounds inside the Spass Haus. In his oral history interview, Jerome revealed that his passion for collecting beer bottles began when he was a child growing up during Prohibition. I’ll share a bit of his reminiscing:

… There were so many wonderful places to buy illegal homemade beer. They were called bootlegging joints. New Braunfels was very famous for good bootleg joints. People from Houston, San Antonio … they came from everywhere to get this good New Braunfels beer…

Albert Nowotny was Jerome’s dad. Albert ran a business known as “The House the Jack Built” on W. San Antonio Street. It was a restaurant, gas station and Indian relics museum with a tourist camp of cottages out back. The business began in 1927 and added a concrete building in 1930. It flourished through the 1940s, then became Zoeller’s Funeral Home in 1953. In 1981, the building became the Comal County Juvenile Residential Supervision and Treatment Center. Just a few weeks ago, the building was demolished to make way for a new building on the Connections Individual and Family Services campus. (See https://sophienburg.wpenginepowered.com/the-house-that-jack-built/).

The House the Jack Built sold near-beer during Prohibition. Near-beer had only ½ of one percent alcohol. Jerome explained to Herb Skoog that breweries still made real beer and then “distilled it, warmed it up” to evaporate the alcohol. Only near-beer could be legally sold.

… When people came to our place for hamburgers, they would often ask, “Where can we get good beer?” There were so many places it wasn’t difficult to find one if you knew … but you could drive all over town and never find a place if you didn’t know, because every yard had a ligustrum hedge …

Many yards in New Braunfels were bordered by ligustrum hedges instead of wooden fences. It was common practice to set up your bootlegging operation behind the hedge in the back yard. As a child, Jerome’s father would periodically send Jerome to one of the known bootleg places to get real beer for the customers. He always had to go to different ones so that “the Revenuers” wouldn’t catch on and friends get in trouble. Customers tipped Jerome $5 to go on these procurement expeditions. Jerome jokingly said that some people said he was “a pimp for the bootleggers.”

The 18th Amendment made it illegal to SELL alcoholic beverages from 1920-1933. As a citizen, you could brew up to 200 gallons of beer a year to use for personal consumption. You could NOT SELL beer to anyone else. Legally, you needed to have a doctor’s prescription to purchase any kind of alcohol to use “for medicinal purposes.”

Comal Brewery was the only beer brewery still in business by the time of Prohibition (the building is now the New Braunfels Smokehouse Ice Plant facilities). Comal Brewery made real beer and then turned it into near-beer; however, over time, the alcohol content began inching its way back up to real beer. At that point, “the Revenuers” (government agents who collected taxes and enforced laws against illegal alcohol manufacture) raided the place and destroyed all the brewing equipment:

… ”The Revenuers” came in and chopped up all the big copper kettles and everything…that was the end of it. Then it became an ice factory …

I am envisioning a whole “Andy Griffith” episode. I can only imagine how distraught the citizens of New Braunfels were.

Mr. Skoog asked Jerome if there were other folks in New Braunfels who got caught and sent to jail for bootlegging. The answer was “yes”, but they both agreed it was still too early to drop any names — several well-known bootleggers were still living! In New Braunfels, those men who did a spell in jail for bootlegging were not looked upon as hardened criminals.

The discussion on bootlegging is just one part of this great interview. Jerome also told wonderful stories about collecting the almost 14,000 beer bottles that made up his collection. Jerome also shared fascinating memories about his time as a comic actor in Hollywood!

If you want to hear all of Jerome’s interview, you can visit the Sophienburg Museum & Archives to hear or purchase this oral history; there are over 2,000 recordings of other New Braunfels citizens to choose from. You can also go to the New Braunfels Public Library and check out “Reflections” interviews to listen to.

FYI: Jerome Nowotny passed on in 1992 at the age of 77. Sadly, for many of us locals, Herb Skoog passed away recently on February 3, at the age of 93. Herb and his velvety voice will be truly missed.

Sources: Sophienburg Archives, “Reflections” oral history program #21 — Jerome Nowotny.

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

The post Bootlegging and beer bottles appeared first on Sophies Shop.

By Tara V. Kohlenberg —

If I had a magic wand, I would restore buildings that were torn down or significantly altered in downtown New Braunfels before the Downtown Historic District was established in 2012. The very first one on the list would be the old JP Morgan Chase Bank office building on Main Plaza.

The imposing dark brick and glass structure has always stuck out like a sore thumb on our beautiful Main Plaza. It does not blend in with the rest of the early 20th century buildings lining San Antono Street. That is not the fault of JP Morgan Chase Bank. It was like that when they got it. JP Morgan Chase was only a successor bank to the legacy established long ago by First National Bank in downtown New Braunfels.

That legacy began with a trio of New Braunfels businessmen, Walter Tipps, William Clemens and Joseph Faust, who formed a very successful merchandising business in about 1875. Tipps severed the relationship and moved to Austin. The business became Clemens and Faust. Before banking establishments, money was loaned by merchants. The two business owners operated a private bank out of the Clemens and Faust store.

Clemens and Faust Bank was nationalized in 1890, becoming First National Bank with a capital stock of $50,000. In 1894, they built the first actual brick and mortar bank building. The Romanesque Revival red brick, two-story building still stands next to the Brauntex Theatre.

Through good leadership and smart business decisions, First National Bank grew stronger and bigger. They purchased a property on the corner of Main Plaza (Old Krause Building) which had been occupied by the Public Service Company until they moved into their new building across the Plaza in 1930. The Old Krause building was razed (another building lost) so construction of the bank building could begin. By 1931, First National Bank was able to move into a beautiful new, state-of-the-art two-story bank located at 111 W. San Antonio Street. The plans were drawn up by Giesecke and Harris of Austin along with local architect Jeremiah Schmidt.

Local papers of the time reported that the new First National Bank was built in the “modernistic trend,” which we now know as Art Deco style architecture. Art Deco became popular in the 1920s and is, I think, my favorite period of architecture. Elements of the Art Deco style include vertical lines, geometric shapes, slender forms and the use of metals in the designs. The best part about it is that many times the buildings from this period were designed holistically, with furniture, light fixtures, and other components designed in tandem with the building itself. Many different Art Deco Buildings use angular geometric motifs within the interior and exterior, which all work to tie the whole design together (think Chrysler Building!).

The new First National Bank building was an absolute show place. The gleaming white limestone building stood like a monument upon a pedestal of shiny black granite that wrapped around its base. Growing up in the 60s and 70s, I remember every kid ran their hands across the smooth surface of that granite when they walked by. In the summer, it was blazing hot-to-the- touch, which was quite a contrast to the cooled air inside. I remember the lines carved into the stone that ran up and down the building. Around the windows and top of the bank, there were carved geometric accents, almost Aztec in nature, set into the stone. Above where First National Bank was carved at the top of the structure, was a huge flagpole extending at a 45° angle over San Antonio Street.

The bank had two entrances: one facing San Antonio Street, one facing the Plaza. The big double doors on each entrance were heavy. They were made of metal and glass with cut out geometric aluminum grillwork over the glass. All the bank tables and fixtures were specially designed of aluminum and marble. The elongated aluminum light fixtures hung from the ceiling two floors up. There were sconces of similar design visible on the mezzanine above. The tellers worked behind tall counters where the protective cages were of aluminum with the same geometric grillwork as the doors and ceiling light fixtures. The vault and safe deposit boxes stood behind a huge, gated aluminum fence.

The floors were of terrazzo tile. You could hear the click of high heels or men’s shoes walking in the bank and people talking in muffled tones. Bank tables of aluminum and marble stood in the middle of the lobby, where customers could fill out their deposit slips. As a child, the tables seemed especially tall to me because I could not reach the pens, checks or deposit slips in the center slots of the table. Think about that, they actually provided blank checks for you to write in your information… and trusted you.

First National Bank stood watch over Main Plaza and the community of New Braunfels through good times and bad. In 1976, First National Bank merged with Texas Commerce Bankshares. It was sometime in the early 80s that Texas Commerce Bank expanded the bank footprint by taking in the adjacent building.

The expansion meant renovations of the bank building, both inside and out, to make the two buildings look like one. Texas Commerce completely wrapped the original stone and granite building with dark red brown brick, as well as using it on the expanded portion. The building is now very fortress-like and not in keeping with our traditional downtown look, but there it is. They also stripped out all the Art Deco décor and aluminum grill work from the First National Bank interior, replacing it with more inviting glass and wood and carpet. Texas Commerce Bank bopped along as a successful member of the New Braunfels community until they were purchased by JP Morgan Chase Bank in 1998.

JP Morgan Chase Bank grew their footprint to accommodate a growing New Braunfels, adding other bank locations on Walnut and Hwy 46. In about 2022, Chase opted to leave their downtown location.

Now, while I know that this sounds like a downer kind of story with no way for my magic wand to really put things back like it was, there are some bright spots. The brick wall simply wrapped the 1931 building. In theory, the original limestone and granite still exists, hiding behind that brick fortress … and it might possibly be restored. If so, it would definitely be worthy of a historical marker.

And the aluminum grill work? Well, some of that was salvaged and stored in a barn until a couple of years ago. That treasure has been refurbished and is currently on display in the Sophienburg Museum reading room. Check it out.

Sources: Sophienburg Museum and Archives.

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

The post Turning back time on First National Bank appeared first on Sophies Shop.