This article was published in the March 26, 2013, edition of the New Braunfels Herald-Zeitung. The regular publication schedule will resume June 2, 2013.

By Myra Lee Adams Goff

Like so many young men, Ernst Gruene had heard the exciting stories of Texas, a Republic in its own right. He was ready to leave Germany and take his mother with him. Freedom was the driving force in his decision; freedom from demands of the aristocracy, freedom from conscription, and freedom from excessive taxation. Little did he know that in 100 years, he would have a settlement here in Comal County with his family name.

Gruene was engaged to a young woman, but she broke off the engagement when she heard of his Texas plans. He consulted a “marriage broker” who made an appointment with Antoinette Kloepper. They married and soon after in 1845, the couple, his mother, and two servants left for Texas. After his stepbrothers bought out his family interests, he had ample funds. He carried about $5,000 in gold coins sewed in his vest. When he was almost washed overboard (gold can be quite heavy) he gave half of the coins to Antoinette who sewed them in the hem of her skirt.

They arrived on the coast and migrated to New Braunfels on May 15, 1846. So begins the amazing story of Gruene, Texas.

Ernst and Antoinette Gruene settled in Comaltown on Rock St. (building still standing) where three children were born. He continued to buy land. In 1872 he bought the land east of the Guadalupe River called Goodwin. This is where his second son, Henry D. would build a home and start a business and this would become Gruene.

Cotton was the #1 cash crop at that time and H.D. advertised for sharecroppers interested in growing cotton. Twenty to 30 families moved onto his land and each was assigned from 100 to 200 acres. Small three or four room farm houses were built for tenants and a school provided.

The first mercantile store in the area was built where tenants could buy groceries, implements, and hardware supplies and could buy them less expensively and on credit until the harvest came in. With the mercantile store, a lumberyard was set up. Because of the success of the store, Gruene constructed a large two story building (now an antique store). It held a working bank, holding mortgages and farm financing.

Soon a cotton gin was constructed powered by water pressure from the Guadalupe River. (This first gin burned down in 1922. It is the site of the present Grist Mill Restaurant.)

The IGN Railroad built a freight and passenger depot about a mile west of the community

in the 1880s and MKT built another in 1901, allowing Gruene to export cotton and grain and import goods for his mercantile store. What is now known as the Gruene Mansion became the home of Mr. and Mrs. H.D. Gruene in 1872. It started as a one story residence and a second story was added in 1886.

A dance hall with saloon was built in 1878. That was Gruene Hall, the communities social center. H.D. Gruene became Goodwin’s first postmaster in 1890 operating out of the mercantile store. This store was on the original north & southbound stagecoach route. Gruene became a stopping point for the Tarbox Stagecoach Line.

The settlement changed its name from Goodwin to Gruene as the whole town rotated around the Gruene family. When H.D. retired in 1910 he turned over the management to his two sons, retaining that Gruene tradition. His daughter resided in Gruene and eventually his parents did also. At one time Gruene had visions of subdividing but the project never got off the ground and when he died in 1920, thoughts of the development came to a halt.

By 1924 a Chrysler agency opened its doors across the street from the big mercantile store, the site of the first store.

The boll weevil stripped the cotton crop and the tenants were hit hard and many moved away. After recovery of the cotton crop, the Great Depression hit. This brought on a decline in cotton production and an end to the tenant system. A result was the closing of the mercantile store. The two railroad stations closed and the depots were destroyed. Various businesses inhabited the buildings, but the one business that never closed during these tumultuous times was the dance hall and saloon.

Gruene has a very prestigious historic designation; it has been placed on the National Register of Historic Places as the Gruene Historic District, the only National Register Historic District in Comal County. In addition there are several buildings with Texas Historical Commission designations: Gruene’s Hall, Gruene Mansion, Erhardt Neuse House (now Gruene Haus Country Store), Original Gruene Mercantile (now Gruene General Store) and the H.D. Gruene Mercantile (now Gruene Antique Company). There are also two THC subject markers titled Gruene Cotton Gin (outside of the Grist Mill Restaurant) and Gruene. Additionally, there are City of New Braunfels historic designations on several properties. Gruene is a prime example of “Historic Tourism”.

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When I was in the ninth grade, I had a group of friends who were Mariner Girl Scouts. New Braunfels rivers were the perfect spot for this scouting program.

We had a friend who lived on the Guadalupe River and had a rowboat. We would take turns rowing the boat. Our rowing skills were improved when we realized that there were snakes hanging from the trees on the opposite bank. You can row fast if you are underneath these branches.

Invariably, our male friends who were Sea Scout Boy Scouts would show up, jump in the river, swim to the boat and turn it over, dumping us into the Guadalupe. This activity was repeated over and over. Once, floating in tubes, we were chased by an alligator gar. We were told that they were harmless, but we remembered stories of the olden days when there were real alligators in the rivers, particularly the Comal River.

Nearby was the spot where the Comal merges with the Guadalupe and continues on its journey to the Gulf of Mexico. We were well acquainted with the confluence of the two rivers. Before Canyon Dam was built, the Guadalupe was milky green and almost warm; the Comal was crystal clear and cold. You could definitely tell when you left the Guadalupe and entered the Comal.

Those memories came back when I started doing research on the ferry boat that once transported emigrants across the river at this very spot.

The first settlers in 1845 did not have a ferry when they crossed the Guadalupe at Nacogdoches Road, but soon the first ferry appeared. The German Emigration Co. granted three acres to Adolf von Wedemeyer to build and operate a ferry near the junction of the Guadalupe and Comal.

In 1847, this land and business was sold to Justus Kellner, who died soon thereafter. His widow married Carl Bardenwerper, and they took over the ferry until 1866, when they sold the property to Florenz Kreuz.

Dr. Ferdinand Roemer describes arriving at the site of the ferry in 1846 in the evening. A horn hanging from a tree signaled the ferry operator on the other side of the river to come pick him up. After waiting for quite a long time, someone finally called that the river was too flooded to cross and to wait until the next morning. Roemer camped outside in a rainy norther, and the next morning two young men arrived and guided the ferry across.

The junction of the two rivers has other interesting history.

In the 1700s, the Spaniards who owned Texas made treks through what was to become the state of Texas, using the El Camino Real trail. Martin de Alarcon, governor of the province of Texas in 1718, crossed the Rio Grande and headed towards what would become San Antonio. There he established the Villa de Bexar (SA) and founded the Mission San Antonio de Valero (Alamo).

The diary of Martin de Alarcon was translated by Dr. Fritz Leo Hoffmann, who was in my mother’s graduating class of New Braunfels High School in 1924. In 1935, Hoffmann was professor of languages at the University of Colorado. He said Alarcon fixed the royal standard (flag) of the King of Spain at the junction of the Guadalupe and Comal rivers and took possession of them. He and his men camped in this area.

Oscar Haas discovered a story dating back to the early 1860s stating that a large elephantine beast was discovered in the area of the junction buried way beneath the surface. An emigrant was prospecting for a well and came across a shoulder bone of a beast. He estimated it to be about 30 feet long and 20 feet high. Stories of remains of at least three Mastodons were found on the banks of the Comal River.

In 1968, Mrs. James Haile, owner of the junction property at that time, received a Texas Historical Marker as a historical site, certainly an important designation.

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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 —

We go see the latest movie and think nothing about it. It is an easy and common thing to do. I don’t even remember the first film I saw, though I’m fairly certain it was a Disney movie. Not so in the early 1900s. I recently found several articles in the New Braunfels Herald-Zeitung microfilm collection that talk about what it was like to see moving pictures for the first time.

Fred Oheim, a long-time editor of the newspaper, had some wonderful memories. He was born in 1903, so his earliest recollection as a kid was of a film shown on Marktplatz (Tolle Street). A traveling carnival set up a tent for the film. He was too young and too poor to go — which turned out to be a very good thing. After the first showing, rumors spread through town that parts of the film “shorts” were, in fact, “X-rated.” Mostly men were seen entering the tent at the 9 p.m. showtime and “they had a sneaky look about them.” The men all exited the tent with their hats tipped low over their faces.

The first film Oheim remembered seeing was shown by photographer H.D. Klenke who presented short films in a building on South Seguin Street between the Hoffmann and Klappenbach buildings. Fred saw his first “talkie” in the Seekatz Opera House on West San Antonio Street. “Talkies” came out in the 1920s. Synchronized sound was produced via a belt connecting the projector in the booth with a phonograph on a box on the stage. It was rather like a trotline and ran the entire distance from the projector to the phonograph in the cone of light produced by the projection lens. In Oheim’s own words:

There were two knots in this loop of driving belt and I was fascinated watching them slowly travelling down to the stage and back to the projector, particularly since there were always a couple of “snake doctors” (what he called dragonflies) in the auditorium which regularly attacked the knots.”

The synchronized sound from the phonograph never really matched up well with the film. He remembers that it got worse and worse as the film ran. This story conjures up images in my head of Gene Kelly in “Singin’ in the Rain.”

Oscar Haas was our Comal County Clerk and the unofficial historian of New Braunfels and Comal County. Born in 1895, the first film he remembered was shown “over” South Seguin Street. Yes, I said “over.” A projecting device was set up on the second floor of the old wood Naegelin building/residence which pointed directly across Seguin Street at a screen set up on the second-floor porch of the Homann Saddlery business/residence. Attendees sat in the street. The movie was part of an advertising campaign for some product Oscar did not remember. Called “The Train Robbery,” the film was shown three nights in succession and repeated again the following four summers. Most importantly, it was free, which allowed the children to take their nickel and go into Naegelin’s for jelly beans and wine balls. Oscar described the event:

“This movie had no sound track but there were attendants who realistically produced the sounds of the train as it came puffing around the mountainside, crossing a bridge, and the sound of the horses’ hoofs as the robbers came galloping out from a ravine, firing pistols, and brought the train to a stop with passengers ordered to come off the coaches and stand along the side of the track.”

The excitement was absolutely riveting, and Oscar Haas tried to make it to every showing.

Oscar’s wife, Clara, remembered that there was an open-air movie garden on part of the empty lot next to R.B. Richter’s building on West San Antonio Street. She also remembered Martin’s Theater which was located next to the Phoenix Saloon beer garden (now the courtyard in front of the bank building). Martin’s was showing films already in 1914. Other theaters recalled by Clara included The Capitol, which opened in 1924 on Main Plaza (between Comal Flower and Black Whale). The Capitol got its movies and performers straight from the Majestic Theater in San Antonio. The Brauntex Theater opened in October 1942 with the Bing Crosby flick “Birth of the Blues.”

Roger Nuhn, journalist, photographer, newspaper editor, and SWTSU (TSU) professor, grew up in the generation of Saturday serial movie-goers. Roger and his buddies would go each Saturday to catch the next episodes, known as chapters, of popular Western serials. The serials always ended in a cliff-hanger so patrons would have to come back the next week. Jack Kaufmann Sr. was running the Seekatz at this time, and the kids would all wear a special badge they got at the “Chapter One” film. With the badge, entrance each Saturday was then only a nickel — half of a regular child’s admission. The serial chapters were quite a bargain: you got to see the next part of the story, then a full-length Western or adventure film, a two-reel comedy and a newsreel. Cheap and it kept the kids entertained!

Roger also recalled that Jack Kaufmann had a heart of gold. “If he saw some child hanging around the entrance of the movie house looking longingly at the posters obviously without the necessary cash for a ticket, he would go up to the youngster and say, ‘What are you doing out here? The show’s inside, get on in there!’ Jack Kaufmann never got rich but was among the most-loved businessmen in downtown New Braunfels.”

LaVerne Schwab Pearce, long-time Sophienburg employee and volunteer, shared a story with Myra Lee Adams Goff back in 2008. LaVerne remembered that the first movie she saw was at the Seekatz in 1934. It was Shirley Temple in “The Littlest Rebel.” Temple’s character has to save her Confederate father from execution for treason ,and she does so by pleading with President Lincoln. LaVerne said she was so upset by the action on the screen that she began wailing loudly and her mother had to take her out of the auditorium.

The new-fangled movie business sometimes made it hard to tell the difference between fantasy and reality.

One more story …

Jack Coleman, in a Reflections oral history program recorded in 1977, tells of his Uncle Nob Richardson’s first ever movie. It was a Western. There was lots of shooting. Uncle Nob was so upset that he whipped out his handgun and shot a hole in the screen.

Ah, now that’s entertainment!!!

Sources: Sophienburg Museum & Archives newspaper microfilm collection: “Shots at Random,” Roger Nuhn, New Braunfels Herald, Feb. 22, 1973; “Museumantics,” Fred Oheim, New Braunfels Herald, March 1, 1973; “Early-Day Theatricals, Movie Houses Recalled,” Oscar Haas, New Braunfels Herald, March 1, 1973; Reflections program, Jack Coleman, 1977; ”Around the Sophienburg: Brauntex Opened in 1942 with Bing Crosby,” Myra Lee Goff, Jan. 22, 2008.

Photo Caption: Martin’s Picture Palace was the first movie house in New Braunfels. Advertisements for films begin in March 1914.

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By Tara V. Kohlenberg —

I often think about living in New Braunfels and how fortunate we are to have wonderful century-old buildings everywhere. I don’t necessarily think about that when I am trying to dodge tourists crossing the streets of downtown or hurrying to be on time to some destination, but I do think about it. I love how the downtown buildings have evolved over time and taken in new businesses. A recent visit to Myron’s Steakhouse on North Castell Avenue reminded me of visits to the same building many years before, piquing my curiosity about its history and how my memories match up.

The sleek stucco building was built in 1924. The Palace Theatre, owned by A.J. Loehman and John H. Stahl, was one of several movie and entertainment houses in New Braunfels. The partnership dissolved by October of 1925, but Stahl continued to run the theatre for a few more years. By June of 1932, the building was sold to R.B. Gode to satisfy debts. Clearly, I was not around in 1924, but we need to back up even further to pick up the details of what came after the theatre.

Just before the turn of the century, a young girl named Milda Richter moved to New Braunfels with her mother. Money was scarce, so the girl began doing housework for the Gruene family at a very young age. She later worked for a restaurant in town. In 1912, Milda met and married a young man and they set about their life’s journey.

There was an establishment at that time, on the corner of San Antonio Street and North Castell Avenue (where Callahan’s stands now), that sold wine, liquor and cigars, otherwise known as a saloon. If patrons wanted food, they were directed through the saloon to a restaurant connected in the back. There was also a door facing Castell Avenue. The young couple bought said restaurant from Mr. Edmund Runge, the owner, for $175.

The couple opened their new business under the name Fritz Bloedorn’s Restaurant. It was hard work. Everything was cooked on a wood-burning stove. No gas or electric ovens. No microwaves. Plus, they had two children to care for. Fritz soon left. When they divorced in 1921, Milda retained the restaurant. Milda lived above the restaurant, raised her children and ran the restaurant by herself. Milda was friendly, outgoing, and compassionate in caring for her customers. She earned the name “Ma” from Walter Faust, Sr. and the name stuck. She built a great reputation; she built a great business; and she survived the Great Depression.

By the end of 1932, Milda had a terrific opportunity to rent the much larger space right next door in the former Palace Theatre. The building renovations allowed enough space for the restaurant and one other tenant, the Central Meat Market, owned by A.G Startz and Erwin Startz. Bloedorn Café opened in the renovated Palace Theatre building on February 1, 1933. It eventually became known as just “Ma’s Café”.

Restaurants in New Braunfels were a little different than today. There were a lot of people who lived in a boarding situation. In other words, they rented a room with no kitchen, so they had to take their meals at a café. Every meal. Ma cooked breakfast, lunch and dinner. There was usually a special of the day with limited choices. Many of the patrons ate there several times a day.

Ma was an innovative cook. She bought fresh vegetables from farmers who came to the back door. Fresh chickens were delivered on Fridays, LIVE, which then had to be plucked and butchered to cook for Sunday dinner. On one occasion, someone brought soft-shell turtles to the back door and she made turtle soup.

When Prohibition was repealed in 1934, Ma’s was one of the first restaurants in New Braunfels to get a beer license to better serve her customers. Before that, beer was only consumed in saloons.

Food was rationed during World War II. The purchase of meat, sugar, coffee, and butter required ration stamps. Restaurants were required to take their menus and the sales book for the month in order to obtain food stamps for the coming month. Ma survived many hardships — single motherhood, the Great Depression, and World War II — and yet was very generous with others. She never turned away a hobo, but she would give them something to do to earn their food. Ma was known to open the café to boarders on Christmas Eve. On New Year’s Eve, she would start her day early in the morning, preparing the day’s meals as usual, before hosting a huge New Year’s Eve dinner and after-dance meals. There were a lot of people that even showed up during intermission from a nearby dance for a bite to eat. Then she would start all over again at 5 a.m.

Milda’s children Arthur and Erna helped their mother a lot. She operated the café for 47 years until her death in 1961. Her son, Arthur, and his wife, Louise, ran it for 19 more years. People are more likely to know Arthur by “Schimmel”, which in German means “white horse.” He was given the nickname because as a child he had very white blond hair. I remember Schimmel as a gregarious man who served the biggest, best hamburgers ever.

It was during Schimmel’s time at the helm that a group of men began meeting after work to discuss the affairs, events and politics of the day. This group was composed of local bankers, businessmen, doctors, dentists, lawyers, and salesmen. Their camaraderie developed into a Stammtisch table. For those who do not actually know what a Stammtisch is (even though you might see the word as a heading above the events in the Herald-Zeitung) it is a “regulars’ table”. Twenty-six men routinely met at Ma’s to enjoy discussion and a round or two of adult beverages. Besides meeting regularly, the group took a page out of Ma Bloedorn’s playbook and sponsored a yearly feast for the people who worked downtown. Ma’s generous soul fed the community for many years from downtown New Braunfels.

Sources: Sophienburg Museum and Archives; Dennis Schwab.

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By Tara V. Kohlenberg and Mark Rahe —

I love the buildings in New Braunfels. I especially like the ones in downtown New Braunfels and Comaltown. Built over a period of 150 years, each building tells a story in every little detail of each window, porch, and roofline. They are a snapshot of the historical development of New Braunfels. Of course, I have my favorites, but then there are those that just break my heart because they look so sad.

The white house on the corner of Seguin Avenue and Garden Street is the perfect example of a heartbreaker. It has tragically deteriorated before our eyes. Even in its current state, it is captivating. So, what’s the story with this forlorn looking beauty?

For starters, it is known as the Blumberg House, so named because it was built by F.G. Blumberg, businessman and former mayor of New Braunfels, for his bride Bettina Scholl. Built about 1900, the Blumberg House is a typical example of the Queen Anne style Victorian house, generally built between 1880 and 1910. With its steep roof form, the cutaway bay window and asymmetrical placement of the rounded, wrapped porch, the house presents as a classic example of the Queen Anne style, even though there were a number of odd additions made to the house sometime after 1922 that do not necessarily fit the style.

The roof styles changed slightly over the span of the Queen Anne period. The pitch of the hip roof was initially very steep about 1885, becoming only slightly less so around 1895, as seen in the Blumberg House. After 1905, the pitch became much less steep, making the gable roof the more predominant feature. The Blumberg House’s steeply hipped roof and lower forward facing dominant cross gable, is common to over half of all Queen Anne-type houses. In addition, the Blumberg House’s overwhelming hip roof is ornamented with a cool decorative bay window dormer, topped with a simple pediment roof.

Another characteristic of the Queen Anne style is decorative detailing. The fanciful style seems to abhor flat, boring surfaces; therefore, they overly decorated absolutely everything, including the porch with its decorative trim spindlework suspended around the top. The repetitive pattern of wood lathe-turned sticks are called spindles because the design resembles wooden sewing thread spindles or “spools” used at the time. While the Blumberg House spindles are each the same, the simple knob-like beads, when designed in staggering patterns can resemble the notes found on a sheet of music. Spindlework has also been referred to as “gingerbread,” or Eastlake-style detailing, named for the 19th century English furniture maker Charles Eastlake. The porch columns and balustrade are composed of beautifully detailed period-styled turned wood. Even the cutaways at the front bay window and brackets at each porch column contain intricate wooden fret-sawn patterns.

By the time the Blumberg House was under construction, the railway was well established in New Braunfels, making possible delivery of all sorts of goods, including construction materials, ordered through catalogs. Decorative house ornamentation like spindlework was mass-produced and sold in pattern books with names like Anna Marie, The Lisa, The Mary Elizabeth. It’s likely the spindlework and possibly other ornamentation and turned wood constructs on the Blumberg House were sourced in this way.

Queen Anne s

tyling actually uses many other decorative devices to break up flat surfaces. They either do it spatially by the addition of bays, towers, overhangs or wall projections, or texturally by the use of varied wall materials with differing patterns and textures. Though the house does not have the tower structure so often identified with this style, the dominant feature of the Blumberg House is the asymmetrically placed cutaway bay window “cut away” from the overhang above it. The bay window provides the same function as inclusion of a tower, adding an intentional randomness. Likewise, the broadness of the hip roof plane that dominates the front of the house is broken by the elegantly proportioned dormer window noted previously. As for a textural contribution, they added chamfer-cornered horizontal bands of wood shingles that look like fish scales on the gables of this particular house.

So, just who is this F.G. Blumberg who owned such a magnificent home on the main thoroughfare of New Braunfels? Ferdinand Gustav Blumberg was the last of 11 children born to German immigrant farmers in Schumannsville, Texas, in 1879. He worked hard to move up in the world and had a lot of different kinds of jobs. He was listed as a dry goods salesman when he married Bettina Scholl in 1900. That is when their beautiful home was built on Seguin Street (changed to Avenue in 1926). By 1910 he was in the wholesale malt liquor business. He served as a director of the Chamber of Commerce and director of New Braunfels State Bank. He was listed as president of that same bank in 1920. Ferdinand was elected mayor in 1922 and 1924. In 1926, his fortunes began to change. He lost re-election in April of 1926, suffered financial misfortunes later in that year, and finally filed for bankruptcy. The bank sold off what was known as the Blumberg Building (the two-story building on Main Plaza now housing New Braunfels Coffee across from the courthouse) to satisfy debts.

About that same time, F.G. Blumberg left town. The beautiful Blumberg House passed to his wife, Bettina, in October of 1926. He married Elvira Tolle on February 14, 1927. Unfortunately, the notice of his divorce from Bettina was published four days later. Ferdinand went on to be a credit manager for car dealerships in San Antonio and Corpus Christi areas before returning to New Braunfels in the late 1930s to retire. Ferdinand died in 1952. His second wife, Vira, lived until 1981 on Tolle Street. He never produced heirs.

First wife Bettina maintained her residence in the Blumberg House until 1948 when she it sold to O.A. Stratemann Sr. It was utilized by the Stratemann family, as far as we could discern, as a rental property until a few years ago. The home has fallen into disrepair and was recently sold. I hope that magnificent example of Queen Anne architecture will go on living in New Braunfels for another 100 years.

Sources: A Field Guide to American Houses (1984, 2013), Virginia Savage McAlester; Sophienburg Museum & Archives.

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By Keva Hoffmann Boardman —

Decorations for Christmas are up at the Sophienburg Museum and Archives. This year we are highlighting 20th century Christmas décor of the 1920s–1960s. You will be wonderfully transported back to your childhood. We also discovered several large boxes with Christmas lights which led me to look into the history of Christmas tree lights.

Candles were the first lights used on Christmas trees. Using tiny Christmas lanterns in the 1870s, counterweighted holders in the 1890s and clip-on holders after 1900, people would light their trees with candles for a brief moment of wonder. Live flames and dry fir or cedar was a dangerous combination, so a bucket of sand or water was kept nearby for expected emergencies. A heavy rug was placed under the tree to catch dripping wax; the rug morphed into the modern-day Christmas tree skirt.

Thomas Edison invented the first practical light bulb in 1879. In 1882, his associate Edward Johnson used that technology to electrically light the Christmas tree in his home. It created quite a stir since the tree also used electricity to rotate and blink on and off.

An electrically lighted Christmas tree was displayed in the White House in 1895. This brilliant exhibit fueled the public’s growing fascination with electrically lighted trees. In response, the General Electric Co. (GE) offered, for the first time, sets of pre-wired carbon filament lights for Christmas trees in 1903. At a time when the average wage was 22 cents a day, a $12 box of 24 pre-wired lights was very pricey. In 1906, Germany and Austria introduced electric figural Christmas lights to the increasingly interested American consumer.

GE launched new Christmas light outfits using the Mazda bulb in 1916. The Mazda was a globe-shaped bulb with a tungsten filament. Other manufacturers of stringed lights paid to use GE’s new Mazda bulbs in their sets. GE replaced the globe-shaped bulb with a flame-shape or cone-shape light bulb in 1919 and it, then, became the industry standard up into the 1960s. By the 1920s, all American lighting manufacturers had converted to tungsten filament bulbs.

The Tri-Plug was invented in 1921 by Lester Haft and allowed several strings of lights to be connected; this was a game changer for the industry. The many companies jumping into the lighting game compelled the Underwriters’ Laboratories (UL) to publish quality standards in 1921, and by 1929, lighting sets carried the UL tag.

In 1924, GE and Westinghouse replaced the smooth cone-shaped lamps with smaller ribbed bulbs. The National Outfit Manufacturing Association (NOMA) was formed by 15 lighting companies; the trade association eventually merged into the NOMA Electric Corporation and became the largest Christmas lighting company in the world.

No Christmas lights were manufactured during 1941-1945 due to WWII although companies sold out their back stock. In 1946, NOMA introduced the Bubble Light, which became the world’s best-selling Christmas light set. Other companies followed with their own bubbling light designs. Cloth-covered lighting wires were also changed to vinyl, plastic and rubber coverings following the war.

Italy introduced Americans to the Fairy Light or miniature lights in 1950. First produced with the bulbs wired directly into the light string, these gradually became the familiar plastic base push-in lamps now in use. Twinkling Lamps, units built with a flasher bulb, first made their appearance in 1955, an innovation still widely popular today.

In 1959, the Aluminum Specialty Company first introduced the aluminum Christmas tree The Evergleam and marketed it as a permanent tree not an artificial tree. (I see what they did there.) Since aluminum is highly conductive, electric lights then on the market could not be used with these new trees and the only way to light them was with a spotlight or rotating color wheel. The aluminum tree craze lasted until 1965 when “A Charlie Brown Christmas” aired on CBS which likened the metal tree to out-and-out commercialism.

Massive importation of light sets from places like Japan and Hong Kong severely impacted and caused the collapse of many American lighting companies. By the 1970s, Americans were almost exclusively lighting their trees with imported miniature lights.

Thought you might enjoy this description of the mini lights most of us use.

Mini lites truly have a mind of their own. As soon as they are removed from the box when new, they cling together in a “hive”, resisting any attempt to free them. Shaking them annoys the mini lites very much. It makes them cling even tighter, until the only method of untangling is a pair of scissors. Should you be lucky enough to actually free them, the strands fall to the floor, immediately running for cover under your feet. (This is witnessed by the sound similar to cracking a walnut.) Once the lights are untangled, the cat becomes VERY interested in them. I believe it is the tuna flavored wire that they use. No matter, because before they can get to the tree, the cat will have chewed through the cord in 6 places. Well! You made it this far! The lights somehow make it to the tree. You of course pre-tested them, so they will work. What you fail to realize, is that the mini lites are not going to fail until they are on the tree. — Chris Cuff

You can visit the Sophienburg Museum Tuesday through Saturday from 10 a.m.-4.p.m. (Please note that the Sophienburg will be closed for Thanksgiving November 24-26, 2022.) Or, you can bring your little ones to see St. Nicholas on Monday, December 5 for $5 per family. Reservations are required for this event; call 830.629.1572.

Sources: Sophienburg Museum and Archives collections; www.oldchristmastreelights.com.

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By Keva Hoffmann Boardman —

Joske’s of Texas.

For many of us, hearing the name “Joske’s” conjures up memories of trips to downtown San Antonio for a day of shopping at the well-respected department store. My favorites were the trips during the Christmas holidays to visit the Fantasyland exhibit on the 4th floor and ride the miniature train through the animated village. This was free and was a brilliant ploy to get shoppers into the store. Joske’s also had a for-real bargain basement with bins full of discounted handkerchiefs, unmentionables, household items and toys.

Joske’s and Sons was established by Julius Joske in 1857. By 1900, his son, Alexander, was sole owner. The family was one of the many influential entrepreneurial families in Central Texas of Jewish ancestry. Amongst them were the Joskes, the Franks (Frank & Bros.) and the Marcuses and Neimans (Neiman-Marcus). New Braunfels had their own Jewish merchants: the Schmidts (Jacob Schmidt’s & Sons), the Mendlovitzs and, of course, the Landas. The Texas Jewish community was a close-knit group of like-minded men, so it wasn’t a surprise to find that Joske family members visited our town and had company parties at Landa Park.

The Joskes, like so many other San Antonians, participated in local singing, shooting, bowling and card societies. They also visited Landa’s park and came to picnic on the banks of the beautiful Comal and Guadalupe rivers. This is why Harold, Alexander Joske’s only son, came to enjoy a day on the Guadalupe River in 1921.

Harold Joske was born in 1890 and raised in San Antonio. He was one of the young princes of the elite in the Jewish community. Harold began working at the family’s department store as a salesclerk supervisor in 1909. His father put him in charge of Joske’s 34th Anniversary celebration for the store’s over 500 employees. Harold planned and pulled off a banquet, musical program and dancing at the San Antonio Türnverein (Athletic Club), proving he was ready for more responsibility.

World War I intervened. Harold enlisted, like many Central Texans of German descent, and he served at Fort Sam Houston in charge of the government store. After the war, Mr. Joske promoted Harold to buyer of ladies ready-to-wear, then to assistant manager and finally to store manager and vice president. Thirty-year-old Harold was a healthy, wealthy, athletic, eligible young man who had definitely arrived on the San Antonio social scene.

On Monday, September 5, 1921, Harold drove up to New Braunfels with friends: two women and “a married man from Dallas.” The group decided on a picnic spot on the Guadalupe above Waco Springs about 9-10 miles from downtown NB. By Monday evening, the citizens of San Antonio were mourning the death of one of its best-known sons, Harold Joske.

The tragic story broke in newspapers across the state in English, German and Spanish. In fact, the most detailed account of the accident was in the San Antonio “La Prensa.” This, alone, testifies to the influence of the Joske family in Texas. Details vary in the different published accounts, but the basic storyline begins with a swim.

Harold Joske was a good swimmer and around 3 P.M. that Monday, he jumped into the Guadalupe to enjoy the cool water. Witnesses reported that Harold’s “lower extremities” became entangled in roots and plants on the river bottom. He was said to “have laughed and then submerged himself.” He disappeared and never resurfaced.

Harold’s companions, “one of the women in a swimsuit,” jumped into their car and headed for New Braunfels. Within sight of town, it was reported that the man from Dallas jumped out of the car and “pulled for tall timber.”

The Record of Inquest (September 6, 1921) states that at about 4 p.m., Myrtle Chalmers notified New Braunfels Justice of the Peace, Emil Voelcker, of the incident. He left for the location at once after securing an ambulance.

At around 5 p.m., Harold’s body was found in 10 feet of water by Fred Gardiner, a boy scout from Austin, who was camping nearby with several other scouts. The young men headed into New Braunfels with the body and met Judge Voelcker and the Baetge & Friedrich ambulance on the way. After another half hour, Voelcker accompanied the ambulance and body to San Antonio. They were met on the road by Joske family members and friends.

As all that was playing out, Harold’s two women friends reported to Comal County Courthouse officials before returning to San Antonio. They came back to New Braunfels the next morning to testify at the inquest. The man from Dallas was said to have been located in San Antonio, but there is no further mention of him.

Yes. There are a lot of unanswered questions in this account and this led to many rumors about what really happened. But in deference to Alexander Joskes’s wishes, the press went quiet in respect for the family. The inquest and Harold’s death certificate state cause of death as “accidental drowning.”

Unfortunately, the tragedy didn’t end here. In 1924, Alexander Joske donated property on Broadway near Breckinridge Park to the San Antonio Council of Boy Scouts for its first permanent headquarters. Was this perhaps a thank you to the boy scouts who had found and cared for his only son?

The grand opening of the Boy Scout Headquarters occurred in February of 1926. Mr. Joske did not attend. On July 8, 1925, Alexander Joske had been found dead at his home by his good friend Stanley Frank (Frank & Bros.). He had shot himself.

FYI: Joske’s of Texas, located at the corner of Alamo and Commerce streets, was sold in 1987 to Dillard’s which became the east anchor for Rivercenter Mall in 1988. Dillard’s closed its store in 2008. Developers reopened the old Joske’s store space with new vendors in 2016 as part of the reinvention of the mall as Shops at Rivercenter.

Sources: “The Promised Land”, Mimi Swartz, 1994; LaGrange Journal; Neu-Braunfelser Zeitung; San Antonio “La Prenza”; The National Magazine : An Illustrated Monthly, Vol 52, 59; The Granger News; New Braunfels Herald; www.expressnews.com/life/life_columnists/paula_allen/srticle/Joske-mystery-death-10858227.php

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By Keva Hoffmann Boardman

It’s just a little snapshot of three old guys in a back yard. The story that goes with it, however, is a humdinger and you’re gonna love it.

It was uncomfortably cold and wet that midnight hour of January 20, 1922. Deputy Marshal W. Nance Meredith had walked his section and was heading back to the Faust & Co. building to punch the time clock. The 65-year-old night watchman was ready to be out of the weather and warm up. It would get really warm soon, hot in fact.

The Faust & Co. store was on West San Antonio Street next to the IGN depot, where the Brauntex theatre now sits. An “L” shaped building, it wrapped around the back of its neighbor the smaller First National Bank. The time clock was at the back in the campground that ran behind all the way to Mill Street.

Marshal Meredith made his way around the corner. “Stick ‘em up! Stick ‘em up!” a low voice hissed, making its point known by the touch of the muzzle end of a shotgun in Meredith’s belly. Meredith was startled but he quickly reacted by jumping back around the corner. He could just make out the figures of two men — one held a shotgun and the other looked like a rifle.

Meredith let a few shots fly in their direction and made fast time toward the depot. Felix Conrads, the station night manager, heard the gunshots and reached over to shut off the depot light. That evened up the odds. The two men had been in darkness since they had broken the lights in the campground. Meredith, now also in the dark, had a fighting chance. And fight he did.

Marshal Meredith fired again in the direction of the would-be robbers which only encouraged them to answer with a barrage of 20 to 40 shots back in his direction. For years, the walls of the depot bore the signs of the gunfight.

Two more men, obvious friends of the others, joined in the melee firing from Mill Street to create cover for their buddies. Making their way to a parked car, the foursome slipped into the dark. A “touch of blood” found in the campground was thought proof that at least one of Meredith’s shots had found its mark.

Meredith had used up all his ammunition, but by now many in the city were awake. Chief of Police Moeller, storeowner John Faust and neighbor Paul Jahn arrived on the scene. Faust immediately unlocked the store and checked his office. He found all in order. The other men went to the back of the store and stared at a gaping hole in the wall. Large bolt cutters lay on the ground alongside the heavy steel shutters, window and window frame that had once filled the opening before them. Ironically, the robbers thought they were breaking into the back of the bank without realizing that the Faust building wrapped around it.

The robbers had left an enormous amount of gear in their hasty retreat. Chief Moeller found a brand-new oxygen and acetylene torch with two extra tanks, a large sledge hammer, a pinch bar, and a sack of smaller tools that included keyhole saws and wrenches of all sizes. There was a large black rubber curtain with loops and rings to hang and shield the robbers’ work lights. A leather pouch contained flashlights, dynamite caps, fuses, a ball of soap mixed with oil and cotton bandages. Other miscellaneous articles included three bottles of liquid which turned out to be nitroglycerin. In short, the robbers had brought, and left, an A-1-state-of-the-art burgling kit.

One more item was found. It was a package about 14 x 4 inches in size. Chief Moeller handled this package very carefully; dynamite was unstable and exploded easily. He gently unwrapped the contents. There was an explosion — of laughter, for the package contained an entire loaf of bread that had been hollowed out and stuffed with ham! Apparently, the robbers had brought munchies to the heist.

The burglary equipment was taken to San Antonio where it was discovered that much of it had been stolen. The bottles of nitroglycerin were taken to an open prairie out in Preiss Heights and Chief Moeller shot and exploded them creating a large hole.

W. Nance Meredith was hailed a hero in NB and around the state for his bravery and quick action in thwarting the break-in. A collection was taking up by grateful townsfolk and First National Bank presented him with a $100 check.

The bank robbers were not caught. However, when the New Braunfels State Bank was successfully robbed less than three months later on March 10, 1922, Chief Moeller suggested that it had been committed by the same gang (check out https://sophienburg.wpenginepowered.com/a-bank-robbery-in-downtown-new-braunfels/ ). As it turned out, Chief Moeller might have been right. The robbers, known as the “Newton Boys” had successfully robbed quite a number of banks in Central Texas using the same MO and equipment. Personally, I think the “Boys” were responsible for both. They had to be miffed about the botched attempt which made them pull off the spectacular daytime robbery in March. $100,000+ is pretty good compensation.

And now we are back to the photo of three old men. This snapshot of Willis, Joe and Dock Newton was taken in 1972. It was given to Oscar Haas in 1975 when Willis and Joe came to New Braunfels with a film crew from Trinity University. They were capturing footage for a documentary film,”The Newton Boys: Portrait of an Outlaw Gang”. The Newton Boys were caught and sentenced in 1924, served their time and then lived their lives telling many-a-tale.

Small town Texas history is just so good.

Sources: NB Herald, Neu-Braunfelser Zeitung, NB Herald-Zeitung collections; Oscar Haas collections, “Reflections” oral history collection #7, Paul Jahn; Gangster Tour of Texas, T. Lindsay Baker, 2013.

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