By Keva Hoffmann Boardman —

I wake up in the morning and the first thing I do is pull up the weather app on my phone. I want to know temperature and precipitation possibilities in order to get dressed appropriately.

Humans have always watched the weather. Where to settle, when to plant and harvest, what to accomplish during the day and yes, how to dress are all dictated by weather. Weather encompassed the seasons of the year which could be wet or dry, hot or cold. Weather was either your friend or your worst enemy. It has always been watched, but it has not always been recorded on a daily basis and used to predict weather patterns, droughts and storms.

The science of meteorology, the tracking and understanding of weather patterns is really a relatively recent thing. Ancient Babylonians tried to predict major weather change based on the shape and look of the clouds. Egyptian astronomers were fairly adept at predicting the arrival of the Nile’s seasonal floods. Aristotle wrote Meteorologica as a compilation of all known knowledge about atmospheric phenomena, theories and guidelines for predictions. But it was the invention of data recording devices — barometers, dew point calculators, anemometers, hygrometers — that helped insure accuracy. Ordinary people, interested in the nature of weather, began keeping records. Well, not all were ordinary; Leonardo da Vinci, Galileo and Benjamin Franklin are on that list.

In the early 1800s, volunteer recorders and observers of weather in the United States started seeing patterns emerge in the data. The telegraph, invented in 1837, aided in weather information collection and sharing. In 1849, the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, DC, began collecting data from across the United States, Canada, and the Caribbean by giving out weather instruments. Weather watchers transmitted their observations to the Smithsonian at least three times a day. Weather maps were drawn, sent to press and posted in public places within about three hours. A six-word message relayed the city, barometric pressure, dew point, temperature, cloud cover, wind velocity and direction. As people daily transmitted weather information, scientists correlated and analyzed it to find the patterns and make predictions — modern meteorology was born.

One hundred fifty volunteer observers across the nation reported regularly to the Smithsonian. By 1860, that number had risen to 500. Texas had at least 42 men and women who were Smithsonian meteorological observers between 1854 and 1873. Several of these were well-known individuals in New Braunfels; two of them lived and worked here.

Louis Cachand Ervendberg, born around 1809 in Germany, emigrated to Illinois in the 1830s. He came to Texas in 1839, and after meeting up with Prince Carl of Solms-Braunfels in Industry, Texas, he was given the job of pastor of the German Protestant immigrants. He and Ferdinand Lindheimer met the immigrants at Indianola and came inland with them. Ervendberg first lived in a house on Church (now Coll) Street, behind the log German Protestant Church. The cholera outbreak of 1846 was the cause of at least 60 orphaned children. The Ervendbergs opened their home and set up a tent to house and care for them. In 1848, Ervendberg set up the first state-sanctioned orphanage (Waissenhaus) out near Gruene.

Along with their own five children, the Ervendbergstaught roughly 20 orphans farming and housekeeping, as well as reading, writing and arithmetic. Ervendberg left the pastorship in 1851 and concentrated on finding out what crops could be grown in Texas. He experimented with different wheats, tobacco, medicinal plants, sheep and silkworms. Ervendberg corresponded with many men, including Asa Grey at Harvard. He was also one of the early Smithsonian meteorological observersof the 1850s. The rest of the Ervendberg’s story has been covered by Myra Lee Adams Goff in “Around the Sophienburg” articles (search on Sophienburg web site).

Jacob Ludwig Forke was born in 1817 in Hanover, Germany. After arriving in New Braunfels, he took over the position of Smithsonian meteorological observer reporting from 1855 to 1857, after Ervendberg left New Braunfels for Mexico. Family lore says Jacob made daily trips out to the Waissenhaus to record his observations. He married Karoline Langkammer, one of the orphans, in 1856. Talk about your “meet cute”!

Jacob Forke first farmed land on the Waissenfarm for at least a year, making 32 bushels of corn which was ground into meal. Eventually, wife Karoline bought the store and home of Victor Bracht (author of Texas in 1848) in 1865. The 1852 Bracht home and store stood at 593 S. Seguin Street, the present-day corner carpark of Bluebonnet Motors. Karoline deeded the property to her husband in 1866. No reason for this rather interesting chain of ownership can be found. However, a story has been told that Karoline would often leave her home and go next door to the Forke store to fuss at her husband and the men gathered inside playing skat or dominoes instead of working. She was obviously one of those strong, independent, no-nonsense German women. The property was sold by the Forke descendants in 1970, and eventually the store became a part of the New Braunfels Conservation Society’s Historic Old Town New Braunfels.

The telegraph had given meteorologists the ability to observe and display almost simultaneously all the observed weather data. This led to actual forecasting of weather. Because of the complexity of capturing and understanding the weather information, the system became part of a governmental agency. President Ulysses S. Grant signed a law in 1870 which birthed the first national weather service as a part of the US Army Signal Corps. In 1890, President Benjamin Harrison moved the meteorological responsibilities to the newly-created US Weather Bureau, an agency of the Department of Agriculture. The Bureau eventually became the National Weather Service, an agency of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) in 1970.

Whether or not you are interested in weather, are you not continually amazed at how our little Hill Country town finds it way into the history of our world?

Sources: Sophienburg Museum: Oscar Haas Collection, Newspaper Collection, Forke and Ervendberg genealogies; PBS: The American Experience: A Brief History of the National Weather Service; National Weather Service: History of the National Weather Service; OpenMind BBVA: Meteorological Records: This Is How We Started to Record the Climate.

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By Keva Hoffmann Boardman —

This past March I was in Macedonia, Greece with my eldest daughter. No matter where we walked the ground was literally littered with history — bits of marble, colored tesserae from mosaics, tiny pieces of bronze and always, always pieces of pottery.

History was everywhere.

I remember going to elementary school at Seele in the 1960s. We had a playground, but often, we would end up playing in the vast green grassy area between the school buildings and the Fredericksburg Fields. It really did seem “vast” to us. Whether we were playing kickball or some other game, it was not unusual to find Native American points (we called everything an arrowhead) just lying on top of the ground.

History was everywhere.

Recently, retired policeman/Texas Ranger Ray Martinez brought in two metal objects. He had found them while parking cars for the Lion’s Club at Wurstfest. The objects were lying on the top of the ground, not together and not even at the same time. Their shape caught his attention. He donated them to the Sophienburg.

One object is a thin, squared-spike, 8.25 inch-long, that looks like a really big nail not a railroad spike. Hand-wrought and perfectly straight, I’d venture to guess it has never been used but simply dropped and forgotten.

Hand-forged by whom? Possibly by one of the African-American slaves William H. Meriwether brought with him from Virginia in 1847; it is likely at least one of them was a trained blacksmith. Meriwether’s slaves dug the millrace in Landa Park and built the first water-powered mill on the Comal River. The spike was found in the area of what had been the foreman’s house and the slave quarters.

Meriwether sold the property to Joseph Landa in 1859. Perhaps a blacksmith employed by Landa made the spike. Maybe it was dropped by workers constructing the Landa Industries buildings or the sheds along the railroad tracks installed to transport product to and from the Landa complex.

History is everywhere.

The other artifact is not made of iron. It is lead. Lead is a soft metal made from galena ore mixed with antimony or metallic arsenic. It melts at 375 F. The 10.75 inch-long and 3/8-inch-wide bar is stamped in block letters, “St. Louis Shot Tower Co.” It is not often an artifact gives you such a great clue and Ray Martinez had already done some internet research. I did more, and this ugly dark gray bar is way cooler than it looks.

First, what is a shot tower? In 1782, Englishman William Watts discovered that if he dropped molten lead far enough through the air the surface tension of the lead would form it into a perfect sphere. That’s how raindrops are formed. Watts built a six-story tower and placed a water tank at the bottom. At the top he laid a copper sieve. When he poured molten lead through the sieve, its downward six-story flight was long enough to form the lead drops into spheres and to cool the lead enough for it to begin solidifying by the time it hit the water.

Why make little round lead balls? The balls being manufactured were “shot”. Making shot for rifles by hand was labor intensive, so if you need a lot, like for an army or to sell in stores, Watts new shot tower method was a huge technological breakthrough. Shot towers sprang up all over England and after Jefferson’s 1801 Embargo Act which halted imports, shot towers became popular in America as well.

The St. Louis Shot Tower Co. was opened in the 1830s and continued producing shot until the end of the 19th century. It also produced lead bars like the one Ray found. St. Louis Shot Co. reported that during a five-month period, they could produce 1,994,374 pounds of round shot and 426,400 pounds of lead bars.

What were the bars for? Although bags of shot were available in stores, many rural folk and hunters continued to hand-mold their own shot. The Sophienburg has many single and double shot molds used by early citizens. During the Civil War, both shot and bars were obtained and used by soldiers on both sides. If you think about it, with a bar, you could make yourself 20-24 shot balls while sitting around in camp before a battle. Wouldn’t it be easier to just carry a couple bars instead of a bunch of little balls? And what if the supply wagon didn’t make it? You could still have ammunition.

Why was the lead bar found in the parking lot field? Your guess is as good as mine. I know that during the 1850s the New Braunfels Schuetzenverein (Shooting Club) shot targets in fields near the water out at “The Point” (which is sort of where Comal Cemetery, the VFW and Cypress Bend Park are). In the 1860s, men in the Comal County Home Guard shot targets in fields near the Comal around Prince Solms Park. Spent shot was also found in the playground area of Carl Schurz Elementary School. The museum has a handful of shot from the schoolyard in a jar. The Lion’s parking lot would have been a perfect place for target practice as well.

Of course, none of my guesses may be right. Both metal artifacts could have been there because of floods.

I’m thinking that if we look, we might all stumble across really wonderful history in our own backyard. I find Native-American points and scrapers in mine. What might be in your backyard? Who lived in your house, and what is their story?

History really is everywhere.

Remember, please, that searching or (God forbid) digging on someone else’s property or city or state property is illegal without prior permission and authority. Don’t be an idiot. Be responsible and ethical.

Sources: Sophienburg Museum and Archives collections; https://stlouispatina.com; https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shot_tower; https://www.uh.edu/engines/epi422.htm; https://www.minnesotatrap.com/history-in-the-makin/shot-towers-page; https://www.inventricity.com/local-heroes-william-watts.

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By Keva Hoffmann Boardman –

I discovered something interesting the other day. In a 1954 New Braunfels Herald column called, “The Melting Pot,” the writer, Gordon Rose, discusses the names of nearby localities known by both German/Anglo and Mexican citizens. The names these two cultures chose give us insight to how people thought about things. Let me give you some examples.

The community of Zorn, on Hwy 123, was established by Joseph Zorn when he built the first store in the area in the 1850s. In 1903, Fritz Galle drilled a well next to York Creek and found water containing high concentrates of sulfur and other minerals. The Mexican community began calling Zorn “Asufrosa” (Sulfur) and would visit the town’s sulfur well to bathe and drink in the healing water; they would also bring buckets to fill and take home.

Barbarossa, a small town on FM 758, was settled in the 1860s by German immigrants who named their community in honor of Holy Roman Emperor Frederick Barbarossa. (It has always sounded like the name of a pirate to me.) Spanish-speaking old-timers called the settlement “El Salon Quemado” (The Burned Room/Hall) after the local dance hall burned down.

Solms, just down IH-35, was originally known as Four-Mile Creek when it was settled in the late 1840s. The settlement was renamed Solms in the 1880s to honor Prince Carl of Solms-Braunfels. To local Mexicans, the area was known as “Los Olmos” (The Elms).

Four miles southwest of NB, Dittlinger is located on the Union Pacific (IG &N) Railroad. It was organized in 1907 by H. Dittlinger as a company town for his rock crushing plant and lime kiln and included houses, store and school. The Hispanic American families that made Dittlinger their home called it “La Calera” (The Lime Kiln).

The small community of Hortontown was across the Guadalupe River from NB. It was settled in 1847 when Leopold Iwonsky sold fifty-acre tracts from the Albert C. Horton survey. In 1850, Jacob de Cordova provided a lot for St. Martin’s Evangelical Lutheran Church to build a structure. The church tower was topped with a “wetterhahne” or a weathervane that included a rooster. The area’s Spanish speakers began referring to the neighborhood as “El Gallo” or” El Gallito” (The Rooster or Little Rooster) in reference to the weathercock.

The neighborhood near the S. Seguin Street overpass got the English nickname of “Frogtown” soon after the construction of the railroad track. The track’s elevation caused serious drainage issues and the flooded areas attracted myriads of croaking frogs until the impromptu ponds evaporated. Local Mexican citizens called the neighborhood “Canta Ranas” (Singing Frogs).

The neighborhood at the end of W. San Antonio Street past Live Oak is known as “The West End.” The neighborhood, predominantly settled by Hispanic families from the very early days of New Braunfels, was one of the last downtown areas to have access to city water and sewage. Its inhabitants aptly called it “Barrrio Seco” (Dry Neighborhood). Many continue to call it that today.

Back behind Sts. Peter and Paul Catholic Church runs Zink Street, so named because Nicholas Zink set up his survey equipment in 1845 and platted the town of New Braunfels from there. A group of small tin-roofed houses sat along part of the street, which its Hispanic occupants called “La Hojahata” (Tin). The appellation could have described most of New Braunfels which was known as “The Tin City” because its fire codes required tin roofs on all structures.

Hunter is a small community up Hunter Road on York’s Creek (think Riley’s Tavern). It was named for Andrew Jackson Hunter who, in 1867, settled and operated a thousand-acre cotton farm in the area. The town was established in 1880 when tracks were laid by the IG&N Railroad. By 1883, Gustav Schleyer had set up a post office and general store which were joined by a cotton gin, a grocery and a saloon by the next year. As the town grew, more saloons, a blacksmith, a barbershop, a wagon maker, a gristmill and a meat market were added. Hunter’s son-in-law, Edward M. House, and Harry Landa formed a partnership that bought up nearby land, set up the Hunter Cotton Gin Co. and used mule teams to haul cottonseed to Landa Cotton Oil Mill (think the Wurstfest buildings). A large influx of Mexican immigrants began settling in the community and a school and St. John’s Catholic Church reflected that impact. They called the community “La Mota” (The Speck or Weed).

As cotton growing declined with the arrival of the boll weevil, these Mexicans found themselves out of work. An enterprising group, led by town carpenter Pablo de la Rosa, began new businesses which capitalized on the auto traffic going through Hunter/La Mota on its way to San Antonio and Austin. In 1921, Pablo went to San Antonio and learned how to make plaster of Paris casts of animals. He opened the first plaster art shop in the town selling colorful bulldogs and flower bouquets as doorstops and bookends. His bulldogs didn’t have closed jaws but wore a snarl and stuck out red tongues. Pablo de la Rosa also created his own plaster casts of the Virgin de Guadalupe and busts of Hidalgo.

The town barber, Bernardino Sanchez, followed Pablo’s lead and also went to San Antonio to learn how to make plaster casts which included horses and cows, which he painted with spots. Eventually he owned four shops in downtown La Mota – buying nine lots along the road. Soon other families engaged in the creation of plaster dogs, cows, birds, chickens, flower bouquets and the like, all highly painted in bright colors. The plaster art reflected the seasons: longhorns with UT on their foreheads, deer during hunting season, rabbits and lambs during Easter. Cars passing through Hunter whizzed by rows and rows of wooden tables and benches loaded with the painted plaster animals which sold for eight cents to three dollars each. Business was great and Mr. Sanchez was able to pay cash for a brand new 1928 Model A Ford.

My dad remembers going through Hunter as a child. It was a magical drive with what seemed like countless enticing creatures lining the road. His family purchased a life-size bulldog that they used as a doorstop. As we talked, he wondered what had happened to that dog. I wonder too.

Anyone remember Hunter’s plaster animals or still have an example of this unique art?

Do any of you know interesting dual place names of other locales in Comal County? Let me know!

Sources: New Braunfels Herald and Neu Braunfels Zeitung collections; SA Express News Aug 5, 1928; “Reflections” oral history, #81 Albert Hoffman; and vertical files, Sophienburg Museum & Archives; Around the Sophienburg, Myra Lee Adams Goff, pp248-249; Phone interview with Paul O. Sanchez; https://www.co.comal.tx.us/CCHC.htm; http://www.texasescapes.com; https://www.tshaonline.org.

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By Keva Hoffmann Boardman —

A year ago, I alluded to a book, Charcoal and Charcoal Burners, published in 1950, by Fritz and Emilie Toepperwein of Boerne. From around 1870 until 1919, the name Charcoal City was given to a region of land in the Guadalupe River Valley that extended from Sisterdale (Kendall County) on the north to just above New Braunfels (Comal County) on the south. Because they found little written reference to these people, the Toepperwiens took to the road collecting oral histories that they used to document charcoal burner families, their personal stories and the locations of the “towns” which made up Charcoal City.

The first settlers in this heavily-forested, water-rich area were German immigrants. By the 1850s, they had established small farms by clearing the land of trees and stones to give them fields and pasture land. They used the cedar trees for fence posts and to burn charcoal.

In the tough, lean time following the Civil War, a new wave of immigrants began arriving in the Guadalupe River Valley. These were Anglos — poor, destitute, homeless white men and their families — from southern states who were of English, Irish and European heritage. These people needed work.

A symbiotic relationship developed between the German farmers and the new settlers. They were put to work to clear the farmers’ lands for new fields; in return, they kept the wood, mostly cedar, which they turned into charcoal and sold in San Antonio.

The Anglo settlers, now charcoal burners, were basically squatters who settled on both banks of the Guadalupe River. Most lived in tents or crude wood shelters with dirt floors. They tended to gather in small “towns” named Happy Valley, Richter’s Flats, Wilke’s Bend, Engel’s Crossing, and String Down. The air on this stretch of the Guadalupe was generally always filled with the dense, aromatic, cedar-perfumed smoke of burning charcoal kilns — hence the area was called Charcoal City.

Charcoal burning didn’t require much: a sharp axe, a shovel, a long pole with an iron hook, some old grain sacks and lard cans, a flatbed wagon and team of horses or mules. A man also needed a strong back and a willingness to work hard. Charcoal burning was as hot and physically demanding a job as ever there was:

“You can’t build a kiln under a shade tree, lessen you want to burn down the tree … when you have to draw out a kiln, that is about the hottest spot between here and the boogy man.”

The process of carbonizing wood without burning it to ash was fairly straightforward. The axe was used to cut two to three cords of cedar (a cord is roughly 4’x4’x8’). The cut cedar was hauled by the men, women and children to an open place away from trees. The branches were cut into lengths (both straight and crooked) and the bark was peeled off and set aside. To build the kiln, the cedar was stacked on end around a tall pole in a teepee shape. More cedar was added, closely stacked, round and round, creating a mound. The cedar bark was spread over the mound and then the entire kiln was covered with four inches of dirt. A trench was plowed around the kiln to prevent the spread of fire and provide a supply of ready dirt. The center pole of the kiln was carefully extracted and a burning rag- topped stick was pushed down the empty hole to light the kiln. Smaller holes created around the bottom of the mound allowed the charcoal burner to moderate the temperature and air flow.

The charcoal burner continuously watched the kiln and monitored the amount of smoke billowing out of the top opening for up to four days. Green cedar was used so it would burn slowly and char not flame. As the kiln burned, the mound would collapse in places; dirt had to be quickly shoveled onto these openings to stop oxygen access to the kiln. Charcoal was best when it charred slowly, and the charcoal burners of Charcoal City were well-known for producing a high-quality product.

When the kiln stopped smoking, it was time to “draw it out” using the long pole with a hook to pull it apart and rake the hot charcoal into a large ring to cool. Live coals were doused with water. Cooled charcoal was shoveled into 7-gallon lard cans — two cans filled a grain sack. The sacks were loaded onto 14’-16’ wagons. Roundtrip between Charcoal City and San Antonio to sell the charcoal took two and a half to six days depending on the weather, road conditions, flooding and just how long it took the load of charcoal to sell.

The men reportedly loved the trips into San Antonio. The charcoal burners camped at Leon Springs where their horses and mules had good pasture. They cooked meals of bacon and eggs, pan hot bread and coffee. At night, camp fires illumined dark, worn, sun-wrinkled but content faces as stories were exchanged, fiddlers played favorite tunes or verses were read from the Bible.

From dawn to dusk, the men would drive through the streets of San Antonio calling, “Charcoal, charcoal for sale!” On average, a wagon load sold for $8 to $24 dollars depending on the demand. In December, the wagons also carried fresh cut cedar trees for city folk to buy. Trees usually sold out before the charcoal. The men were always anxious to be on the road back to Charcoal City; they hated being away from their families:

“It ain’t but natural for me to be a family man … that was the grandest life in the world out there burning charcoal … and the healthiest too. We never did know what sickness was.”

While many people looked down on the charcoal burners as lower class, uneducated and ragtag people, those who lived near them knew otherwise. They were good citizens, never in debt, hard-working and fun-loving. Most tended not to drink too much, were God-fearing and enjoyed family life. Their kids were fed and clothed and life was simple. Births, weddings and revivals were celebrated with shared food, music and real joy. None of them were ever rich; they were content with “just making a living” and being healthy:

“We never had no money to speak of, but I loved my old home out there in Charcoal City even if it was no-count. People was good to one another, and when you did something for a neighbor or friend, we never thought of pay.”

“All I ever knowed was hard work and cutting cedar. We raised eight children, and never had any kind of sickness. It was a hard battle at times, but I am thankful.”

Would that we all shared a charcoal burner’s perspective on life.

Sources: Charcoal and Charcoal Burners, Emilie and Fritz Toepperwein, 1950; “Charcoal City – Turning Cedar into Cash”, Texas Coop Power, April 2011, Clay Coppedge; “The Cedar Chopper”, The Southwestern Historical Quarterly, Jul 1966-Apr 1967; “Reflections” oral history #553, Steve Smith, and #624, Pearl Pehl; Heilig Collection #0767 – Sophienburg Museum & Archives; http://www.hillcountry.com; The Real Kendall County, 2009, Marjorie Hagy; Newspapers: Boerne Star: Jun 15, 1950, July 20, 1950.

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By Myra Lee Adams Goff —

To know the history of New Braunfels is to know the history of Comaltown. This is somewhat true but not entirely. In 1845, there were two towns, separated only by the Comal River‘s original channel which basically runs from Landa Park Lake between the golf course and Schlitterbahn.

Let’s look at the 1840s map of the two-league Veramendi tract to locate where these two settlements were. I found the map in the abstract of my property. It is very crude and not to scale but you can get the idea. A portion of area No. 1 makes up the original city of New Braunfels. Areas No. 2, No. 3 and part of No. 4 were Comaltown. All of the area was owned by the Juan Veramendi family. The name Veramendi lives on even today with a new subdivision by that name. Juan Martin de Veramendi, born in San Antonio in 1778, was a politician during the Spanish and Mexican periods in the history of Texas. He married Maria Josefa Navarro, who was from a prominent family, and the couple had seven children. Veramendi received two Mexican land grants in Comal County. One consisted of 8,856 acres (two leagues as pictured) and the other 4,300 acres (one league) above the Balcones Escarpment. The Veramendi subdivision is part of the one-league grant. Juan Veramendi died in Monclova, Mexico in 1833 from cholera.

After Juan Verimendi died, the Veramendi lands were divided in the 1840s and the two-league property divided further into five parcels. All were awarded to heirs of Veramendi who eventually sold the properties. A portion of area No. 1 was sold to Prince Carl for the new settlement of New Braunfels.

When the Texas Legislature incorporated New Braunfels in May of 1846, the town of Comaltown (areas No. 2, 3 and 4) was included as part of New Braunfels. In 1850, forty-five Comaltown citizens petitioned the legislature to become a separate city and to change the boundaries. The petition was rejected so Comaltown remained part of NB.

Ferdinand Roemer writes about early Texas, “A speculative American had laid out a new city between the fork of the Comal and the Guadalupe within view of the city of New Braunfels called Comaltown.” Roemer was referring to Daniel Murchison, agent for Maria Antonia Veramendi Garza. Comal Town (named originally to be a separate town) was laid out in area No. 4 by Maria and Rafael Garza. The plaza in the middle is where the Christus Santa Rosa Hospital lies. It originally was a plaza given by the Garzas to the people who bought lots in the Comal Town subdivision.

The subdivision of Braunfels was later platted in 1868 in area No. 3 and contained a plaza that later became the location of Lamar School. The large dance hall, Echo Halle, now Eagles Hall, is in this area. Area No. 2 was the last area of Comaltown to be subdivided. Initially, it had been purchased by Mather and Richardson.

During the flood of 1972, Comaltown became an island. It was surrounded by water – the Comal and Guadalupe Rivers and Blieders Creek. Some of the lower lands, like the golf course and Landa Estates, were completely inundated but most of the area was above water. Many city landmarks were located on dry ground such as the New Braunfels Hospital, the Comal Cemetery, Our Lady of Perpetual Help Cemetery, Panteon Hidalgo Cemetery, Sts. Peter and Paul Catholic Cemetery and the Comal County Fairgrounds.

My home was, and still is, in the middle of the Braunfels Subdivision. I remember the flood well. With no electricity, no fresh water, no cars, no ambulances, the only noise that could be heard was the rushing of flood water as it picked up trees and buildings along the banks. The most devastating loss was that of fourteen lives.

Back to the beginning: As time passed from 1845, many businesses sprang up in the Comaltown area especially along Union Avenue. There were grocery stores, a gas station, saloons, a funeral home, mechanics and churches. As New Braunfels’ city limits grew, Comaltown did not. It was a land-locked area. Many Victorian style homes as well as small craftsmen style homes were built. Many of the homes were built by Adolph and Alwin Moeller. My Comaltown family connection begins with the Moeller family. On Austin Street, there is a three-story beautiful rock home that was built in the early 1850s by Johann George Moeller, grandfather of Adolph and Alwin Moeller. Johann finished the hand-hewn rock home in 1857. It remained in the Moeller family until it was sold to Schlitterbahn a few years back.

Both the Moeller brothers established themselves in New Braunfels construction. Many of the buildings in downtown New Braunfels were built by Adolph or Alwin Carl (A.C.) Moeller. Occasionally you can look at the old sidewalks and see the name A.C. Moeller Contractor. My friend David Hartmann and I claim Johann Moeller as our first ancestor in the Comaltown area. Johann Moeller is my g-g-grandfather and he is David’s g-g-g-grandfather. David and I both grew up in Comaltown. Yes, 20 years apart.

In the next few articles, David and I will tell you about what we remember about Comalstadt from the 1940s and the 1960s. We often get together and share remembrances about the good old days in Comaltown. Perhaps we will tell you about the social life, businesses, churches and schools.

My dad used to say that everything that relates to property changes value every 25 years, sometimes good and sometime bad. I think Comaltown is changing for the good.

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Almost everywhere we go in New Braunfels, there is history hidden in plain sight. Perhaps it is something we drive by daily, but when asked about it, can’t recall where it is. Perhaps it is a building that looks like any other built within the last twenty years, except it is closer to a century old. Some things we just take for granted, like “ice”. Yes, ice, that clear, cold object floating in your tea prompting the name, “Iced tea”. Have you ever thought about how they got “ice” in South Texas? It is available from the door of most refrigerators now, but what about a 175 years ago? Ice has only been manufactured in New Braunfels for a little over a hundred years.

It is fairly easy to understand that the meals prepared by the founders of New Braunfels were probably meager by our standards. They ate what they hunted and harvested fresh from the garden because the food spoiled quickly. Meats were smoked or dried to preserve them. Vegetables and fruits were canned or made into jams to have food throughout the winter months. Up North, ice was harvested from the frozen lakes and streams during the winter and stored in ice houses. The ice was then delivered by wagon to help keep food cool in ice boxes during the summer months. Large blocks of ice were put into the top compartment to keep the foods cool below. By the 1850s, ice was being shipped to the southern U.S. by special insulated trains and boats. In 1859, French engineer Ferdinand Carré patented the first absorption refrigerator. One of his machines was shipped through the Union blockade to Mexico and eventually was moved into San Antonio, Texas. By 1867, there were three companies in San Antonio making artificial ice. By 1900, there were 766 ice plants in the U.S. with 77 in Texas. It wasn’t until 1916 that New Braunfels got its first ice plant, Citizens Ice Company, built by E. A. Clousnitzer.

Located at 262 Jahn St., Citizens Ice Company plant consisted of a mechanical refrigeration system, water cooling tower, ice pit that formed 300-pound blocks of ice and a cold storage vault. The plant originally had the capacity to produce ten tons of ice per day. A 1926 expansion increased the output capacity to thirty tons per day. The ice was delivered by horse-drawn wagon to homes in New Braunfels. The ice plant was in full operation until about 1960. It sat vacant until restored and made into a discotheque/supper club called “The Ice House” by Mike Kilgore in 1974. Since then, it has had several incarnations as a club/bar and is currently known as “Conway’s”.

Mr. Clousnitzer was quite the entrepreneur. Born in Germany in 1869, he not only built Citizens Ice Company in New Braunfels, he built a second plant in Taylor, Texas, and obtained a plant in Temple. He was very civic minded and generous to this beloved city. In 1935, he donated the Civil War Memorial “To the Memory of our Fallen Soldiers of the Civil War 1861-65”, honoring all soldiers of that war. In 1937, he donated a second war memorial, “The Spirit of the American Doughboy”, honoring the soldiers of World War I, as well as donating six palm trees which were planted along the streams of Landa Park. Both statues can be found on the plaza. You can read more about them in the Around the Sophienburg article by Myra Lee Adams Goff at https://sophienburg.wpenginepowered.com/statues-on-plaza-honor-soldiers/.

There was also another ice plant in New Braunfels, not quite as easily seen, but you probably know it. New Braunfels Brewery was established in 1918. Since brewing beer and ice for cooling went together, the New Braunfels Ice Company was begun within the same plant. Located at 441 N. Guenther St., it produced 300-pound blocks of ice. By 1922, New Braunfels Ice doubled their capacity. During prohibition, the brewery closed and the ice plant was acquired by South Texas Ice. In 1945, RK Dunbar bought the company. He eventually sold off three of the plants and kept the two located in Seguin and New Braunfels. In 1950, when the Dunbars established the New Braunfels Smokehouse restaurant, the ice portion of the business still operated under the name South Texas Ice for many years. The Seguin plant was sold off in 1974. The Smokehouse continued to make block ice until the mid-80s when they began producing the clear cubed ice that you find in your ice chest or party drinks today.

Look at that, a whole article about something as small as an ice cube. Drive around, see what you’ve missed and stay cool!

Sources:

• Sophienburg Museum & Archives
• Mike Dietert
• New Braunfels Herald-Zeitung

The post Hidden in plain sight appeared first on Sophies Shop.

Judging by recent headlines, good, affordable housing in the Austin-San Antonio area is hard to come by, especially in New Braunfels. As is my usual, I was on a mission looking for something else when I ran across this excerpt from the Herald Zeitung. It is a portion of a letter dated January 13, 1850, written by Mrs. Ida Kapp to her sister back in Germany. It’s about their arrival in New Braunfels. Mrs. Kapp, the wife of Dr. Ernst Kapp, and their five children ages 4, 6, 10, 13 and 15, set out on Christmas day by horse drawn wagon and arrived in New Braunfels nine days later. Without benefit of phone or text conversation to Europe, she writes in detail about her family of seeking a good safe place to make a living and raise their children. Just check out the descriptions of housing available to New Braunfels residents in 1850

When we finally came into New Braunfels I felt quite wretched. It was a hot day, the appearance of us after nine days of camping out on the road is hard to describe. The first thing we did was to go to Bracht’s who had offered to find a house for us. Not one was to be found in New Braunfels with more than one room and besides all these had no rainproof roofs.

We were recommended to a residence in Comaltown, a 15-minute drive from New Braunfels, and this we decided to take. We first ate our noon meal at a boarding house and then drove out to what has now been our sanctuary for three weeks.

That was a road to drive on. Six oxen were hitched to the wagon and two times we had to shudder and quake through water, Comal Creek and Comal River, and then on over rocks, sticks and stumps. To travel on the roads here one must acquire nerves of steel.

Here in Comaltown our home consists of four rooms, some think quite out of the ordinary here, only it was occupied before it was finished, as usually is the case here and so was never completed. One room has been whitewashed and you cannot understand what that means here, but the rest stand in their (unplastered) raw brick walls. Only one door has been put in, all the rest are boarded up and three rooms have no ceiling, only the bare roof, and several broken window panes, so on nights when a norther is blowing we have to use a lantern for light (Lighted kerosene oil lamps or candles naturally would be blown out by the wind).

Everybody marvels at our wonderful home, which even has a cooking machine (Kochmachine). The house also has a beautiful porch (Gallerie) and there have not been more than three days on which we had to stay inside the house; the other days it was much pleasanter out on the porch.

So, here we now run our little household, Antonie and I change duties each week, one does the kitchen work, the other takes care of the children and tidies the bedrooms. The boys have to keep their own room in order, chop stove wood, and carry it and water into the house, get provisions from town, tend to the horse and mule we bought here in Comaltown. After that they go exploring and bird hunting and engage in other profitless undertakings.

The water of the Comal River is the most wonderful seen anywhere. Its entire course is but a few miles long but is wider and flows much more water than the Ruhr River at Arnserg. It is a really enchanting, (bezaubernd) stream.

Forests, called bottoms (like pecan bottom), extend along all water courses. Otherwise Texas is not much wooded, which facilitates putting land into cultivation. Up to now I have seen but few varieties of trees, no southern vegetation whatsoever, several species of oaks. The live oak is an evergreen and has a very hard wood so it is not used much. Cactus and yuccas, which we consider deep southern vegetation, grow here in wild profusion. Hedwig today found a beautiful light lavender flower with fragrance so much like a violet.

Maybe it’s just me, but the thought of traveling in a wagon… in December…and wrangling five kids would cause me to stop and think a long while before deciding on this undertaking. The adventure might sound fun for maybe a day before it would get old. And it makes me shudder just to think about what it would be like with only a roof, no ceiling, much less missing window panes. That does not sound like much more than camping in a shelter. Brrr! I’m proud my ancestors and people like the Kapps toughed it out to make a new life for us, but I am not so sure that I would be very good at it. I’m only glad that the housing available today is a tremendous upgrade from 1850.

Sources:

• New Braunfels Herald-Zeitung
• Sophienburg Museum & Archives

The post Affordable housing in the 1850s appeared first on Sophies Shop.

I should have known that receiving a scanned copy of a pencil sketch of “The Meusebach-Comanche Treaty” would send me down yet another historical “bunny trail.” The sketch was signed in block letters — “FRIEDRICH 1847” — and depicts hundreds of Commanche, horses, Meusebach, U.S. Indian agent Maj. Neighbors and others.

Family lore says it was created by Wilhelm Friedrich as he accompanied Meusebach at this historic event. The facts are that the Meusebach-Comanche Treaty was signed in May 1847 and Wilhelm Friedrich arrived in Galveston in July 1847. Hmmmm…

Ferdinand Roemer was an eyewitness to the treaty and describes it in vivid detail (Roemer’s Texas 1845-1847); he is enamored with the ways and lifestyle of the Comanche. It is entirely possible that Wilhelm Friedrich read or knew of this description for many details match up. Friedrich was friends with some of the Freethinkers that had begun the short-lived commune of Bettina in Llano County (September 1847 to Spring 1848) and who later moved to the Boerne area. The sketch was found among papers in Boerne belonging to the rather famous San Antonio surgeon, Ferdinand L. Herff, one of Bettina’s founders.

In uncovering this information, I stumbled upon some other Friedrichs who played a role in our history — Otto Friedrich and his brother Eduard. The Friedrich brothers, born in Laxe, Altenberg, met up with our beloved Ferdinand Lindheimer at the home of Dr. George Engelmann in Illinois in 1834. The three young men heard stories about Texas that pulled at their adventurous spirits. Otto had studied Rechtswissenschaft (Jurisprudence) and Naturwissenschaft (Natural Science) and had come to America to study Insektenwelt (Entomology). You can see now why the brothers got along with Lindheimer.

I’ll let you read A Life Among the Texas Flora by Minetta Altgelt Goyne for the details, but in a nutshell:

Lindheimer and the Freidrich brothers make their way to NOLA; catch a slow-going schooner with an uneducated captain to Veracruz; meet up with more German expats; get into trouble because of their moustaches, and get involved in a coffee plantation, a corn milling business and a distillery. Along the way, Lindheimer collects plants and seashells and Otto collects butterflies and bugs. Eventually all three make their way to Texas — and then to New Braunfels — although not together.

Brother Otto first goes back to Germany to find a wife (the wedding never happened) and comes to Texas in the 1850s. He turns up in the Comal County 1860 Census, 60 years of age. The Neu Braunfelser Zeitung mentions in 1857, that he lived in the hill country on the Guadalupe River near Gruene. Otto was well-known as a naturalist, living alone and collecting his insects. He was “well-off” but lived frugally; his small log cabin furnished with only a hand-crafted bed frame with straw mattress, a plain table and a pair of rawhide-seated chairs. In the 1870s, his alma mater, the University of Leipzig, set out a prize for the best research and latest discoveries in entomology. At 70+ years, Otto shipped the university a complete collection of Texas entomology together with all scientific classification and won the prize. He died in New Braunfels on October 11, 1880.

I haven’t found brother Eduard yet, however I did see a note that said “the Friedrich brothers apparently first settled in Guadalupe County and came to Comal County probably in the early 1850s.” Perhaps Eduard remained in the Seguin area; that’s another trail for another time.

Interestingly, another brother, Oscar, also shows up in the Comal County 1860 Census, 48 years of age with wife and three children. An 1855 newspaper article says he knows how to treat snakebite. Oscar lived up at Jacob’s Creek in a beautiful two-story stone house. He was a farmer and involved with the cotton ginning up in that area. He gave some of his river land for the Jacob’s Creek school (later known as Mountain Valley). Besides being a farmer, it turns out that Oscar was also an artist.

Oscar had a son, named Otto (because that’s the crazy kind of things families do) who was three in 1860. Little Otto becomes known as a very, very good hunter. His father Oscar immortalized his prowess in many works of art in pencil and oil. One of the works is in the Sophienburg’s collections. Had I found a clue to the “Muesebach Treaty” sketch?

On comparison, it is very evident that two different artists rendered the sketches. The mystery continues, but the search has led to another interesting story. Stay tuned for the next column, where we’ll continue the saga of the Friedrich boys.

Sources:

• Neu-Braunfelser Zeitung, Comal County Census, 1860, 1870, 1880, Oscar Haas collection, Frederick Oheim collection
• Roemer’s Texas 1845-1847, Ferdinand Roemer
• A Life Among the Texas Flora, Minetta Altgelt Goyne
• A New Land Beckoned, Chester William and Ethel Hander Geue
• Wanderers Between Two Worlds, Douglas Hale

The post The Friedrich brothers (Part 1) appeared first on Sophies Shop.

The fall of the worldwide stock market, known as the Great Depression in 1929, was not of major concern to New Braunfelsers. Being an agrarian area, the county was more affected by a serious drought that had occurred in the early 1920s up to about 1925. The effects on crops to the farmers was loss of farmland. Many farmers were just trying to recover from losses in 1929 and what was happening in the rest of the United States was not as important to their immediate needs.

The drought and the stock market fall was met with an increase in population of people moving to Comal County, especially if the move was to seek jobs. The local citizens needed the jobs for themselves so the locals didn’t look too kindly on this increase in population. Is this possibly where the term “aus Lander,” or “out of the land,” comes from? In New Braunfels, the population in early 1920 was 3,590. In 1930 it had jumped to 6,242. Imagine the effect on a town with limited jobs available. Up until this time, jobs were plentiful because business was good, but when the drought came, some farmers and ranchers left their farms to get work in town. Many didn’t plant crops. Even the mesquite trees lost their leaves, and that’s unusual.

The history of Gruene can give you a clear picture of what was happening generally in the county during the depression. The town of Gruene was a major economic contributor to New Braunfels. Can you imagine Gruene as we know it today, becoming a ghost town? Here’s the story of the rise and fall and rise again of Gruene. The rise of Gruene had mostly to do with the importance of the cotton industry and the creativity of Henry D. Gruene.

Gruene was the son of Ernst and Antonette Gruene who emigrated from Germany with the first group of immigrants in 1845. Their son, H.D. Gruene was born in 1847 in New Braunfels. As a young man, he was interested in ranching and was even part of cattle drives from New Braunfels. He returned to Texas in 1872. He purchased some land from his brother in the Gruene area, originally called Goodwin. Along with his new bride, Bertha Simon, he built a home on the Guadalupe River. Here’s where the cotton crop comes in:

Gruene involved himself with the importance of growing cotton. The production of cotton was so important that the economy of the South was referred to as King Cotton. Cotton was actually grown here in the early 1850s. Cotton growing was long gone by the time I was born, so I was surprised to see photographs of bales and bales of cotton brought to town on hundreds of flatbed trucks. Whatever happened to the King?

When Gruene advertised that he was seeking tenant farmers, the response was overwhelming with 20 to 30 families seeking opportunities. Two types of tenant farmers were hired. There were half renters whose implements were owned by Gruene and whose food and clothing were to be bought on credit at Gruene’s Mercantile Store. They gave one half of their crop earnings to Gruene. The other type of tenant farmer was one who had their own implements and teams but gave one third of their profits to Gruene. Each family was assigned a plot of one hundred to two hundred acres according to the size of the family.

Gruene was very successful and established a mercantile store (now the wooden Gruene Mercantile Store) and eventually a gin, lumberyard and dance hall. He built the Gruene Mansion and several family homes and then the red brick mercantile building in 1904. The town flourished into the 1920s.

By 1927 the worst of damage from the drought seemed to be over. Guess who came along in 1925, “a lookin for a home.” The boll weevil. Add this little critter to the drought that was already in progress and the cotton crops were gone. King Cotton was dethroned.

A song about this bug was written by Brook Benton. I’ve taken a few lines from it. Only the last line is to be sung. The rest is stated.

Let me tell you a story about a boll weevil
A boll weevil is an insect
And he’s found where cotton grows
Where they come from no one knows.
The farmer said to the boll weevil
“Say why do you pick my farm?”
The weevil just laughed at the farmer and said
“We ain’t gonna do you much harm
We’re lookin for a home
We’re looking for a hooooooooooooooome.

The tenants were ruined and the farming system stopped in 1938. The San Antonio to Austin road moved to where the IH 35 corridor is now and stopped going through Gruene. Gruene was deserted but like the phoenix (mythical bird), it rose again later.

Large businesses in the county and city suffered losses and loss of tax revenue to governmental agencies from decreased land values. This made progress impossible and slowed recovery. Larger industries like the Landa Industry, and the Planters and Merchants Mill (textile mill, later Comal Cottons) had a big impact on the whole community when Jobs became scarce. But Comal County moved slowly forward until the economy finally moved on.

Much of the information for this paper was taken from a master’s degree thesis written by Iris Schumann, long time coordinator of the aarchives collections of the Sophienburg Museum and Archives. There is much more to the thesis than I have reported here since the thesis covered the depression in Comal County beginning 1920 all the way up to the end around 1938. She covered many human-interest stories about how people came together helping each other out. Her conclusions is that because of this kindness and charity on the part of the citizens, New Braunfels made it through the Great Depression. Thank you, Iris for the contribution of this research to our history.

The post When cotton was king appeared first on Sophies Shop.

What do three houses on Mill Street have in common? The homes located at 502, 528 and 554 West Mill Street are part of New Braunfels’ Mill Street Historic District and they are homes built on the property owned at one time by George Ullrich in the 1850s through the 1860s.

George Ullrich bought the partitioned lots in 1850 from Jean Jacque von Coll. They were part of the larger acre lot #168, acquired by von Coll in 1847 from the German Emigration Company. Von Coll served as business manager for the Adelsverein. Ullrich was the Adelsverein wagon master.

George Ullrich was one of those First Founders who, along with his wife, Margarethe, were in Texas before the Adelsverein immigrants. Prince Carl met Ullrich in Frelsburg in the early 1840s. The prince asked him to lead the immigrants inland from the coast as head wagoner. He lead the 31 wagons across the Guadalupe River on Marcy 21, 1845.

Mill Street runs parallel to San Antonio Street all the way to the Comal River at Clemens Dam where the Torrey Mill was located, therefore Mill Street. It is one of the earliest named streets in New Braunfels. Many of the homes on Mill Street are the oldest surviving homes from the time of the city’s settlement. Several of the homes are log homes and many are fachwerk. A home’s core building materials were typically covered over with layers of plaster or wood for insulation and protection from the environmental elements and when restoration occurs, the construction is revealed. The log home and fachwerk home were the earliest building techniques used, with the use of cut limestone blocks to follow. The log home is made using walls of horizontally placed logs with chinking in the spaces between the logs and the fachwerk home is constructed using timber framing with some type of infill, usually brick, rubble or rock.

554 West Mill

The home at 554 W. Mill has a historical marker titled the Pioneer Home. The marker reads: “Sand brick home built 1855, by Geo. Ullrich, who had driven first wagon of German Emigration Co. settlers in 1845 across the Guadalupe River.” On July 7, 1962, this home belonging to Mr. and Mrs. Chester W. Geue, was awarded the Texas Historical Building Medallion, the first awarded in New Braunfels and Comal County. The Geues had purchased and restored the home because the Ullrichs were his ancestors. The home was originally built as two front rooms and kitchen. By 1865, a daughter of George and Margarethe Ullrich, Sophie, married William Froelich and they lived in the home adding rooms to accommodate a growing family. The Geues bought the home from Blanca Froelich Bading. In 1965, the home was designated a Recorded Texas Historic Landmark. The Comal County Historical Survey Committee is now known as the Comal County Historical Commission.

528 West Mill

The home at 528 W. Mill is owned by Marvin and Ann Giambernardi. This home was recently on the New Braunfels Conservation Society tour of homes and it was this tour that piqued my interest in the homes on Mill Street and about the people who so lovingly restore them, the Giambernardi’s being two of them.

Marvin and Ann met when he was helping her with electrical work involving the restoration of her home at 581 E. Camp Street. Ann had been an antique dealer here in New Braunfels for several years, having shops in downtown New Braunfels. She grew up in San Antonio but decided in 1990, to purchase the home on Camp St. so she would not have to drive back and forth from San Antonio to New Braunfels for her business. Her description of the home when she moved in is priceless. It had been in the same family from the time it was built and Ann bought it from the family. Ann lived in the home while restoring it. It had only cold running water. The previous owner heated her water outside in a tub. The electricity consisted of a bulb hanging on an electrical wire from the ceiling and there were no outlets. This did not deter Ann from living in the home while restoring it. Ann’s abilities in home restoration, expertise in the antique business, eye for color coordination along with her abilities as a seamstress, combined with her endless energy, contributed to success in the restoration arena. All she needed was an electrician, plumber and wood craftsman. This was when Marvin entered the scene.

Although Marvin was retired from the military as an aircraft inspector, he was also an electrician, plumber and wood craftsman. Marvin was living at Lake Dunlap at the time in a home he had restored that had belonged to his father. Marvin did some work for Ann on the Camp St. house and the rest is history. They married, eventually sold the Camp St. home, bought the 528 W. Mill home, restored it and now are working on another restoration. Home restoration is the perfect outlets for their creative talents and energy. They love the local history.

Back to 528 W. Mill Street. The home was thought to have been built in 1865 by George and Margarethe Ullrich. Around the same time, the 554 W. Mill Street home was given to their daughter and husband. The home is a beautifully crafted fachwerk home with handmade brick infill. The Giambernardis have exposed the fachwerk in several areas to show the construction. It was originally three large rooms with very high ceilings (about 14 feet), divided with one large room on the right and two smaller rooms on the left. One of the rooms on the left was the kitchen. There are two fire places, one on each side of the home. Additions were made throughout the years and provide ample room for Ann’s extensive collections of antiques. She began collecting as a teenager.

502 West Mill

Marvin and Ann recently purchased the small home next door at 502 W. Mill. The home had belonged to Elsie Roeper. Elsie was born in 1916 and lived in the home her whole life, caring for her grandparents who also lived there. Elsie’s mother was Alma, and Alma’s parents Julius and Julia Krueger Buske (Elsie’s grandparents) bought the home in 1890. The home was built on property owned by George Ullrich and was possibly built by him in the 1850s but may be much older. The home is a combination of log cabin and fachwerk with homemade brick infill construction.

The home originally was a small, single room log cabin with front and back porch. This single room is constructed of hand-hewn horizontally placed logs on all four sides that was revealed when Marvin and Ann removed the plaster. At some point, the back porch was closed in using fachwerk with handmade brick infill. A kitchen was built behind the home and at some time, the front home and kitchen were connected and also a bathroom added to the south side of the front structure. Marvin noted that termites where only present in the bathroom addition and nowhere else in the older parts of the home. Marvin and Ann are continuing their restoration and are in the process of researching more to find the exact construction date of the home. It is surely one of the oldest in New Braunfels and worthy of preservation.

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