By Keva Hoffmann Boardman —

Divining. Dowsing. Witching. Switching.

These strange words all refer to the same thing, an ancient method of finding something under the ground. It’s not science. It’s not magic. Some people have “the gift” and others do not. In many cases, the ability is found generationally in families. Whatever it is, it has proven to be a relatively effective technique for finding minerals, coal, oil, water, treasure and burial sites for centuries.

German miners used dowsing rods to locate minerals in the 1400s. English miners were using the method in the 1600s. Americans tended to call dowsing either “witching” or “switching”, possibly because many practitioners used witch hazel branches (switches) for the rods. Dowsing rods can be made of hazel, hawthorn, willow, peach, pear or cherry branches, but not elder. Elder trees were associated with witchcraft and dowsing is not witchcraft.

Dowsing rods are simple to use. The diviner (dowser, witcher or switcher) holds the ends of a Y-shaped branch with the joint nosing upward and then walks across the ground they want to survey. Say he or she is looking for water — when underground water is passed over, the joint end will point down or twist. The strength of the rod’s movement can even estimate the distance under the surface so you know how deep to drill for a well.

Elmo Jonas (1916-2001) learned how to switch for water in the 1930s from watching his uncle. As a Wassersucher, or switcher, Elmo used a Y-shaped rod from the branch of a peach tree. He stored his rods wrapped up in his freezer. Mr. Jonas was known across the county for his ability to find water to help people locate sites for wells on their property. In a New Braunfels Herald-Zeitung article, Mo Schwab was quoted saying, “To my knowledge, he’s never had a client say it was a dry hole …. He doesn’t charge for switching. He earns his living on his sheep ranch off Purgatory Road. People make donations if they want to, but I know he’s found good water sources for people who gave him nothing.”

In other words, he wasn’t scamming anyone.

The Herald-Zeitung interviewed Elmo in 1995 about the “gift” he shared with others. He and many of his neighbors were relocated when their family ranches and farms were bought to make way for Canyon Lake and Dam in the late 1950s. Buying new land and building a new home made it necessary to also drill new wells. Elmo Jonas found just the right spot for good wells for those resettling.

How does it work? No one really knows. Some think it has to do with a physical principle, possibly electrical in nature, that isn’t yet understood. Curtis Bremer (1934-2016) said, “There is no scientific evidence, but I’m satisfied that it works, and I’ve used Elmo Jonas on six or eight wells. I’d want a switcher if I were drilling a water well today because you increase your probability.”

The U.S. Geological Survey can’t prove how or if it works so they caution against using a water witcher. But, they cannot prove it doesn’t work, and as many people have seen, somehow it does. In 1975, Mrs. James Mayer of Bulverde was asked to locate water for a well at the Comal Indepent School District’s Smithson Valley High School. Successful, she was asked by the school board to also find water for Mountain Valley Elementary and Middle School in Sattler. Harvey Pape reported on that experience. “She would just walk across the field and the rod would go straight down — she just could not hold it. There were two places on our land like that. It was really amazing to watch, in fact, the first switch she used split in half.… She gave me the switch, and it wouldn’t do anything, … we gave it to my little daughter, and the switch pulled almost out of her hands.”

Water is not the only thing people switch for. Former educator Wilfred Schlather also uses a divining rod to locate lost gravesites. Sounds weird, right? Mr. Schlather taught high level math and physics at New Braunfels High School as well as hand-built the first computer on campus. He is definitely no stranger to scientific facts. He doesn’t know how switching works, he just knows that it does.

I got to go on a grave hunt with Wilfred (It is so hard not to call him Mr. Schlather.) a couple of years ago. We needed to find out where a young boy was buried in one of the local cemeteries. We vaguely knew about where he was lying, but with no headstone, it was just guesswork. Wilfred got out his switching rods — two copper pipe cylinders in which he put L-shaped pieces of wire. He held one copper cylinder in each fist so that the long end of the L-shaped wires swung freely facing forward. As he passed over different areas of ground, we watched in astonishment as suddenly the wires turned inward and crossed each other and then several steps later uncrossed. I. Kid. You. Not.

Wilfred repeated the action flagging where the wires first crossed and then flagging where they uncrossed. Between the flags was the exact space that would be needed to bury a child’s casket. To make certain of his results, he walked parallel to the marked space. The wires did not cross. When he walked across the area of another marked grave, the wires did their crossing thing again.

“May I have a go, Wilfred?” I asked hesitantly. “Here, try it,” he said, handing me his rods. I held one copper pipe in each fist and with the rods floating forward walked over a marked grave. At the foot, the wires turned inward and crossed. At the headstone, the wires uncrossed. I tried the burial site he had just located. At one end of the space the wires turned inward and crossed and at the other end the wires uncrossed.

It was quite the OMG moment. Apparently, I have the “gift” for finding graves. Who knew I was so blessed. I was telling my mom about this article. It seems I had an uncle in the Fredericksburg area who was a water switcher. Looks like I need to try switching for water!

Sources: New Braunfels Herald; New Braunfels Herald Zeitung; Texas Escapes Online Magazine: “The Ancient Art of Dowsing”,  “Dowsing for Graves, Witching For Water”; Farm and Dairy, “The Curious History of Water Witchers”.

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

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By Keva Hoffmann Boardman —

How great is this photo of New Braunfels boys!

The image was copied for Oscar Haas by Mr. Seidel in 1960, but it dates way back to March 17, 1900. The young men, dressed up for the Kindermaskenzug (Children’s Masquerade Parade), are standing in front of the New Braunfels Academy. The Academy was on the corner of Mill and Academy streets (that’s why it is called Academy Street) and was often the starting point for parades that would end over the Comal River bridge at Matzdorff’s (now Eagles) Hall.

Professor John B. Pratt, a teacher at the Academy, enlisted a group of mothers to design and sew sailor uniforms of bleached “Indian Head suiting”. The uniform consisted of trousers, a loose-fitting shirt with a striped collar and cuffs, a dark belt and shoes and a jaunty sailor cap with “TEXAS” on the band.

Why “TEXAS”? Because, the group was representing sailors of the Battleship Texas as “The Spirit of the Spanish-American War”.

Oscar Haas is the fourth sailor from the left in the front row, and like the others, he holds a wooden rifle and bayonet. Back in the Civil War, William Seekatz had the rifles made so he could train boys, under the age of 18 years, how to handle a rifle with a bayonet attached; the boys could shoot but combat with a bayonet was a new skill. Seekatz is best known for his Opera House downtown and for constructing the 1863 saltpetre kiln down by the Landa Park springs. Bat guano was hauled from Brehmer Cave off FM 1863 to the kiln where it was mixed with urine and water and soaked for several months. The liquid was then drained into trays and dried in the sun. Evaporation produced potassium nitrate crystals (saltpetre) which when mixed with charcoal and sulfur made gunpowder.

Writing on the back of the photo and in a letter from 1975, Mr. Haas added more details to the story told by the image. Professor Pratt drilled the group of boys to follow the captain’s orders; in the photo, the captain is Erich Fischer (the older gent on the left). Fischer had the boys perform drills at the completion of the parade at Matzdorff’s Halle. The sailors executed complicated drills as everyone came into the hall and again, at the conclusion of the children’s dance — the Kindermaskenball.

Mr. Haas also said that the Battleship Texas was “commissioned during the Spanish-American War and is now used as a museum for tourists berthed on the Houston Ship Channel at San Jacinto Battlefield Park.

Hmmmm … I have been to the Battleship Texas (before it was moved to Galveston for restoration in 2022) and I was fairly certain that I was told that the Battleship Texas was first used in WW1 and then in WW2. Fact check time!

What I discovered is kind of fascinating.

Investigating the Spanish-American War, I found out that there WAS a Battleship USS Texas (BB1) which was commissioned in 1892 as the first USN battleship of the “new Navy” after the Civil War; the USS Maine (AC), an armored cruiser, joined the Texas in 1898. After the Maine famously exploded in Cuba, the Texas took part in the brief 1898 Spanish-American War in the battle of Santiago de Cuba. The USS Texas was decommissioned in 1908 for she had become obsolete. Recommissioned the USS San Marcos in 1911 (so the name could be reused), she was downgraded to a gunnery target in Chesapeake Bay. She was used for target practice through World War II. In 1959, what was left of her flooded hull and upperworks were razed by explosives and pushed deeper into the mud of Tangier Sound. What a way for this old girl to die.

The second USS Texas (Battleship 35, BB-35) was commissioned in March 1914. It is this Battleship Texas that participated in World War I and World War II. This ship was decommissioned in 1948 and given to the State of Texas. She has been maintained as a memorial at San Jacinto until her drydocking in Galveston for a total restoration. The USS Texas (BB-35) was the first naval battleship to be declared a United States Historic Landmark. She is set to reopen as a museum in Galveston in 2026.

So, Oscar Haas was a little off on his recollection, but that is what makes history so fun for me. A little deeper dive into the story of this photo led me to a couple of Neu Braunfelser Zeitung newspaper articles from March 29,1900. The first is a colorful description of the Kindermaskenball and parade. It refers to the Battleship Texas sailors as “a detachment of strapping marines” who walked from the school to Matzdorff’s Halle. The dance began at 8 p.m. and included “the strapping marines in their elegant uniforms drilled under the command of their lieutenants, which was a real joy, but also frightened the costumed fairies and butterflies with their skillfully executed sabers and bayonets.”

Pretty cool, right? But we’re not done. Also in that newspaper was a letter to Professor Pratt.

Battleship Texas Galveston, March 22, 1900
Mr. J. B. Pratt, New Braunfels, Texas

Worthy Sir!

I have just received your very pretty photograph of your company “Texas Infantry of the Neu-Braunfels School”. This is a further sign of the friendly consideration that has been shown so much to the officers and crew of the Battleship Texas since its arrival in this port. It is most gratifying that the people of Texas are taking such a friendly interest in the ship that bears that state’s name. It will encourage us all to maintain the reputation for efficiency gained in the last war. Rest assured that I will always treasure the image.

Respectfully yours
W.C. Gibson Captain U.S.N.

Obviously, Captain Gibson was unaware that one, Texas means friend and two, Texans love all things Texas. From an old black and white photo to a pretty interesting story. I love my job.

Sources: Sophienburg Museum Seidel Collection, Neu-Braunfelser Zeitung newspaper and Oscar Haas Collections, https://battleshiptexas.org/education/history/, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Texas_(BB-35), https://www.history.navy.mil/our-collections/photography/us-navy-ships/battleships/texas-bb-35.html, https://www.rosenberg-library-museum.org/treasures/u-s-s-texas, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gOp8d_GQBsM, https://naval-encyclopedia.com/industrial-era/1890-fleets/usnavy/uss-texas.php#google_vignette.

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

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Tara V. Kohlenberg —

Ninety years ago, on October 8, 1933, New Braunfels celebrated the grand opening and dedication of the new Sophienburg Memorial Museum and Library, erected in honor of those pioneers who founded New Braunfels.

It was a grand affair for the entire community. There was a morning parade from Main Plaza to the Sophienburg, headed by the American Legion Drum & Bugle Corp, Boy Scouts and fire department. All were treated to the music of the Old Heidelberg Band while lunch was served by pretty girls in German costume. After the official dedication and customary speeches praising the pioneering spirit of our ancestors, the beautiful new museum and library building was opened to the public for the first time. The party continued into the evening with entertainment by the Music Club String Ensemble, the Echo Singing Club and a musical pageant depicting the important events in the founding of New Braunfels.

You may have raised an eyebrow upon reading the word “Library” with Sophienburg Memorial Museum, but the Sophienburg has long been entwined with the public library. For several years, in a series of locations, people could pay a membership fee to use a local small library (see Emmie Seele Faust Memorial Library, April 1, 2018, Sophienburg.com). It was not until the new museum built a dedicated library room in 1933 that there was truly a free public library.

By 1937, it was clear that the library needed its own space. A new public library building for the city of New Braunfels became a reality in October 1937. Mrs. Emmie Seele Faust, daughter of Hermann Seele, offered a large donation to build a memorial library. The Sophienburg Memorial Association donated a parcel of the Sophienburg Hill property for the new library, with the understanding that when it ceased to be a library, it would revert back to the Association. Built in the same rock style, the Emmie Seele Faust Memorial Library opened adjacent to the Sophienburg Memorial Museum on W. Coll Street in the fall of 1938.

As it is with the ebb and flow of life, so it goes for organizations. The Sophienburg Memorial Museum grew and flourished in place, filling the empty space left by the library room vacancy. In 1968, the city built the Dittlinger Memorial Library on property once the site of the Ernst Gruene home, located directly behind Emmie Seele Faust Library and Sophienburg Museum buildings. Since the Emmie Seele Faust building was no longer used as a library, per the agreement, it reverted back to the Sophienburg Memorial Association and became the Archives building.

The collection and archives continued to grow. By 1975, the Museum’s need for space prompted renovations and addition of the Cedar Room. In 1992, the Association purchased the 1929 New Braunfels City Hall building on the corner of North Seguin Avenue and Mill Street to house the ever-growing Archives. At that time, the old library building became storage for the artifact collection.

Now, all these years, the museum was run by one or two employees and a whole host of members and volunteers spread out in three buildings. Money was derived from memberships and a small Weihnachtsmarkt fundraiser, but it was almost always a struggle to have a steady income. The museum gift/book shop helped contribute to the coffer a little, but the page turned in 1998, which was the first year the museum participated in Wurstfest. Any items, mostly German themed, that were left over from Wurstfest and Weihnachtsmarkt came back to the museum, taking the gift shop to new heights. Our beloved Sophie’s Shop was born… but it didn’t get that name until 1999. Whether in the museum, online, or at Wurstfest, Sophie’s Shop serves to make money for the sole purpose of supporting the non-profit museum operations.

Following the completion of a new city library, the City of New Braunfels gifted the Dittlinger Memorial Library to the Sophienburg Memorial Association in 2001. Renovations to the Dittlinger Library building, creating an archives library and museum exhibit hall, would take money, so a capital campaign was held and the Old City Hall building was sold.

In 2004, Phase I is completed and the Archives, which has been closed for a couple of years, opens in their portion of the renovated building. The Museum exhibit space opened a year later. The original museum building became storage for the collection.

The Sophienburg Museum and Archives was created by the community as a memorial to our founders. She has always given back as a supportive community partner. She has been there to not only support New Braunfels’ anniversary celebrations, she captures and catalogues the history to share with future generations. The Sophienburg Memorial Association presents the annual Fourth of July Patriotic Celebration in partnership with the City of New Braunfels. The Museum presents programs such St. Nicholas Eve and Fiesta Patria celebrations.

In 2009, Sophienburg Museum and Archives proudly became the anchor for the Sophienburg Hill Historic District to help protect the rich architectural history of New Braunfels. As proof of the Association’s dedication, the Emmie Seele Faust Memorial Library was fully restored to its original historical splendor.

The Sophienburg continued to be recognized for excellence in protecting the history of New Braunfels. In 2017, the Sophienburg received two Texas Historical Commission honors: a Historical Site designation for Sophienburg Hill, and a Recorded Historical Landmark designation for the Emmie Seele Faust Library.

This year, the Sophienburg Memorial Association celebrates 90 years of preserving New Braunfels History. The Sophienburg Museum and Archives is an integral and vital part of New Braunfels. “Guardians of History, Keeper of the Treasures and Stewards of the Stories”.

Join us in celebration, Sunday, October 8, 2023, on the campus of the Sophienburg Museum and Archives, 1-4 p.m. All are invited.

Sources: Sophienburg Museum & Archives; LaVerne Pearce; Nancy Classen; Anna Lee Hicks.

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By Keva Hoffmann Boardman –

Sometimes a little tidbit of information sets me off on a bunny trail. I took one of those trails recently after finding and reading a 1975 letter from Oscar Haas to Mrs. Gregorio Coronado here in New Braunfels. Haas was drawing her attention to the mention of a Mexican boy, Pablo Diaz, in the 1850 Comal County census. That piqued my interest, and I ran down the trail Haas laid out in his letter. It isn’t that I doubt Oscar at all, I just wanted to journey along with him in his research.

Haas told Mrs. Coronado that Pablo had been captured by Comanche who had made a raid over the Rio Grande into “Old Mexico” and carried him with them up to the San Saba River country. He suggested she look at Roemer’s Texas, to find Pablo mentioned. So, I went to Roemer’s and on pages 242-243, I found Roemer describing his travels with John O. Meusebach as he was finalizing the treaty between the German Emigration Company and the Comanche Nation in February 1847.

Roemer said that they met a young blond-haired, blue-eyed, 18-year-old Anglo-American man who dressed and acted as an Indian. Ten years earlier, the blond young man had been captured after his parents were murdered by Comanche near Austin. Roemer goes on to say that the young man “had a little Mexican boy about eight-years-old, who rode behind him on the horse and whom he treated as a slave…he looked half-starved and was shivering in the cold north wind because of his scanty dress. In answer to my question how he had come here, the “Indianized” Anglo-American answered quietly, ‘I caught him on the Rio Grande.’”

Wow. Pablo was with the Comanche when he was eight-years-old.

Next, Haas told Mrs. Coronado that at the treaty conference, Meusebach ransomed Pablo from the Comanche Chief. I did a little digging and found corroboration of this in the Julius Dresel diary in the Sophienburg’s archive collection. The entry in the diary describes a time Dresel was staying on Meusebach’s farm at Comanche Springs:

“The next morning a small Mexican boy, Pablo Diaz, whom Meusebach had ransomed from the Comanches at a peace settlement on the San Saba (north of Llano), showed me how a brown bear on a long chain, could eat an enormous pumpkin which he held in his for paws while balancing on his hind paws. “Wackerlos” (cowardly) and “Schlinge” (Noose), the dogs, barked noisily. — April 18, 1853”

Oscar Haas continued in his letter to tell Mrs. Coronado that Meusebach had taken Pablo to Sisterdale and left him with the Dresel Family. True. Pablo is listed with the names of those in Dresel’s house in the 1850 Comal County census. Sisterdale was in Comal County until 1862; it is now in Kendall County.

Dresel’s diary entry for April 27, 1853, also confirms that Pablo was left in Sisterdale. Dresel says he had taken Pablo “into his quardianship” from Meusebach and that Pablo was put in charge of the milking and butter and cheese making at his farm.

Haas next informed Mrs. Coronado that Julia Dresel taught Pablo to read and write both German and English. I can find no written documentation for this statement. I did find that on Find a Grave it states that on the 1860 Gillespie County census, there is a Pablo or Paulo Diaz living as a servant in the William Marschall household. The Marschall and Meusebach families were joined by marriage so there is a link. I looked up the 1860 Gillespie County census and found a “Paulo” from Mexico listed in the Marschall household. It could be our Pablo, but I am not sure.

When the War Between the States broke out it 1861, Texas voted to secede from the Union. However, many of the Germans of the Texas Hill Country did not identify with the Confederate cause and did not want to fight for it. Some of the men decided to head to Mexico to stay during the war or find a way to get back north and enlist in the Union Army. Oscar Haas told Mrs. Coronado that Pablo joined the 68 young men from around the Fredericksburg-Sisterdale-Comfort area because he “thought it to be a good opportunity to return to Mexico to try to find his relatives. He owned a pony then and a saddle and a rifle, same as all the others.”

Geez…I wish I could find proof of this statement but I can’t. Oscar must have had an oral source from the time.

I do know that the group of men, including Pablo Diaz, started out for Mexico at the beginning of August 1862. On the evening of August 9th, the group set up camp on the banks of the Nueces River. A group of Confederate soldiers had been tracking the Germans and fired on them sometime that night. Twenty-eight men from the German group slipped away during the battle. Nineteen others were dead by morning. Nine more wounded Germans were summarily executed. Another nine were pursued by the Confederate soldiers to the Rio Grande and killed as well. The thirty-seven Germans killed in what became known as “The Battle of the Nueces” or “The Nueces Massacre” included Pablo Diaz. His and the bones of thirty-five others were recovered in 1865 and buried in Comfort. Their names are listed on the Treue der Union Monument, a twenty-foot-tall limestone obelisk erected over their remains.

On Find a Grave, it is also stated, “Although Mexican, he [Pablo] was considered by all to be as “German” and “Unionist” as any of the others.” This is someone’s theory, but I can’t say I don’t think it might be true. After all, young eight-year-old Pablo seems to have been treated with kindness and maybe even with some affection by the Germans who ended up caring for him. I am sure he spoke German. And after around 14 years with them, he had heard their views on everything…including slavery…and most likely agreed with his adopted friends and guardians.

I am absolutely enthralled with this young man’s story. It is one of incredible courage, adaptability and thirst for freedom. RIP Pablo.

Sources: Roemer’s Texas, Dr. Ferdinand Roemer, 1995 edition; John O. Meusebach, Irene Marschall King, 1967; Sophienburg Museum & Archives: Oscar Haas Manuscript Collection, the Dresel Family Manuscript Collection and the Nueces Massacre file.

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By Tara V. Kohlenberg —

I love driving through the tree lined streets of New Braunfels in the winter month(s). The absence of leaves invites a closer look at the buildings, the rooflines, the architectural details, the landscaping. Oddly, I have always been drawn to the properties lined with mature palm trees. They seem so exotic. As the palms are clearly not native, they must have been chosen to make the properties stand out. One of my favorite palm-lined spaces used to be the property on the corner of Gilbert and Tolle Streets.

One might say, “Oh, that’s a restaurant or tourist place. They do that all the time.” Except these trees are from a time before tourist attractions. They mark the property that was once a hospital. It was the Comal Sanitarium.

In 1920, the Comal Sanitarium Company was formed. Dr. M.C. Hagler and Dr. Arthur Bergfeld initially established the Comal Sanitarium, a privately-owned hospital, in the former Comal Hotel (now Prince Solms Inn). It was run by charge nurse Miss Ida Belle Hulette, R.N. The temporary hospital boasted a first-class operating room, sterilizing room, twelve private rooms and a large ward for emergency cases. It was open to all doctors.

By mid-1920, a new, modern hospital was being built by A.C. Moeller just a block away on Gilbert Street. Financed by Dr. Bergfeld’s father-in-law, U.S.‘Tug’ Pfeuffer, the hospital was built on three acres located on the banks of the Comal River between E. San Antonio and Tolle Streets. The hospital was fully operational by 1921. It was a two-story building, 44 x 80 feet, with a basement and a 10-foot sleeping porch running the length of the building (There was no AC, only the summer breezes to stay cool). The first floor housed ten patient rooms, a large, completely equipped operating room and a smaller adjoining operating space. These operating rooms were said to be top notch and comparable to any found in larger cities. The first floor also had a sterilizing room with steam pressure and an electrical sterilizer. Dr. Arthur Bergfeld’s office was a separate building added later.

The second floor held another ten patient rooms, eight bathrooms and one large ward that could accommodate twenty patients. In the basement, there was a 24 x 44-foot state of the art laboratory. There was also a dormitory accommodating twelve full-time nurses who lived on site. A heating plant located in the basement supplied the building with electrical heating. The buildings had both hot and cold water.

One of the most historically significant things associated with Comal Sanitarium is that it was the site of the very first x-ray machine in Texas. (In Texas, y’all!) Dr. Bergfeld had studied in Germany for several months and had the latest and largest x-ray machine shipped from Germany at the cost of $4,000 to equip his hospital. This new technology, housed in an x-ray laboratory, operated at 25,000 volts (like that of an overhead trolley car wire – YIKES!) and was said to throw a spark 12 inches long with sounds resembling a “gattling gun.” Double Yikes! Occupying at least two rooms, the machine was used to “cure cancer and other incurables,” as well as see bones and such inside the body. I might have to think about that a while.

Drs. Hagler and Bergfeld took their oath to care for people in their community seriously. Not only did they purchase all of the building materials, furnishings and equipment locally (except for x-ray machine), they had a rule to never turn anyone away. They provided thousands of dollars of charity health care and medicine for those who could not pay. Comal Sanitarium ran a tuberculosis clinic and had contracts with the U.S. Treasury Department to care for sick or wounded ex-soldiers. The hospital was also the site of the Comal Sanitarium School of Nursing, graduating many registered nurses. Dr. Arthur Bergfeld’s son, Jack Bergfeld became a physician and joined him in practice in 1943. Somewhere along the way, the palms were planted as large shrubs along the edge of the campus.

By the late ’40s, the other New Braunfels Hospital, or Krankenhaus, was struggling. It was in an old building and was not doing well. In 1949, the Bergfelds offered Comal Sanitarium to the City of New Braunfels for $48,000. The voters turned it down. Hundreds of people continued to receive care and hundreds of babies were delivered at Comal Sanitarium. Yes, yes. I know. Every child ever born at Comal Sanitarium, including me, has been chided about being “crazy” because the hospital was called a Sanitarium (which in recent years has been likened to an asylum). However, the term sanitarium or sanatorium, as used in the 1920s when this fine establishment was built, is defined as a place for extended convalescence or to regain health. Many hospitals of that time were called sanitariums.

Comal Sanitarium closed in July 1965 after the death of Dr. Arthur Bergfeld. Burglaries and vandalism caused much damage to the structure and equipment. The property was sold to J. B. Harmon of El Campo. It sat empty with its only inhabitants being raccoons and other creatures.

In 1975, the property was purchased by a group of investors led by Gaz Green and Melvin Jochec under the name Gasthaus New Braunfels. They razed the building and built the new multilevel stone, wood and glass structure that you see today, named The River Restaurant. The palm trees stayed. The restaurant was to be the first phase of a planned resort on the Comal River, with 100-unit motel planned in the second phase. The restaurant, with food service managed by Anita Jaroszewski, opened in the Spring of 1976, featuring German cuisine an on-site bakery and sausage room. It was a culinary success. The restaurant lasted about three years before closing. The hotel units never materialized. There have been numerous reiterations of the restaurant: Treetops, a BBQ place, a music venue and others, before becoming the current seasonal tube rental place. There are fewer palm trees around the edge of the property, but I still like them.

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Sources: Sophienburg Archives; Photo Collection of Tommy Ortiz

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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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By Tara V. Kohlenberg —

The summer I graduated from high school, I think the New Braunfels city limits signs boasted a population of 19,000. The county had a whopping 34,000. Since then, the city limits signs have moved further out, taking in the wonderful little communities that existed peacefully “in the country” for more than a hundred years. One such community is Freiheit.

Freiheit was first known as the San Geronimo School community. The school was in operation before 1883. In 1891, for the sum of one dollar, Henry A. Rose donated land for a school about three and a half miles northeast of New Braunfels. Located on the east corner of Prairie Lea Road (now Freiheit Road or FM 1101) and Barbarossa Road, the San Geronimo School was named for the nearby San Geronimo Creek. It was also known as Rose’s School. It was originally a one-room school, expanding to two rooms that taught first through 10th grades. In 1949, the San Geronimo School was consolidated into the Goodwin Rural High School along with Austin Hill, Church Hill, Hunter, Thorn Hill, and Watson schools. The San Geronimo school house was moved to the Goodwin Rural High School campus. It now resides at Conservation Plaza. That still doesn’t explain the Freiheit, but hang with me.

Near the San Geronimo School, at the crossroads of Eberling Lane and Prairie Lea Road, a store was opened in about 1898 or 1990 by Robert Schuenemann, the son of pioneer Fritz Schuenemann, to serve the farmers of the area. The community was known as Schuenemann Settlement. The store changed hands among Schuenemann family and ended up with Ernst Schuenemann. In 1906, Alonzo and Bessie Nolte bought the store. In January of 1910, the Noltes leased to the Freiheit Kegel Verein (Freheit Bowling Club) a 22-foot by 108-foot strip of land adjacent to their store at the cost of one dollar for 99 years. The Freiheit Kegel Verein drew up formal by-laws and elected officers in August of that same year.

This is where I tell you that the Freiheit Kegel Verein was a 9-pin bowling club. There are many differences between 9-pin and 10-pin bowling. Bowling began in 200-300 A.D. when German monks introduced bowling as a religious ritual, whereby one’s ability to knock down cones (Kegel in German) representing sins determining the need for penance. Martin Luther called the game “Kegels” and standardized it to nine pins. Nine-pin bowling was popular up until the late 19th century. Nine-pin was outlawed to stop people from gambling, but a tenth pin was added to get around the law and now we have 10-pin bowling.

In 10-pin bowling, each individual bowler throws ten frames, in the same order each time. The individual scores count. Pins are set up in a triangle where the goal is to knock down all pins. In 9-pin, it is a team sport with six team members who throw six frames. The pins are set up in a diamond configuration with the goal to knock down all but the center “kingpin”. The team captain decides the order based on the skill of each member since the frame is not reset until every pin is down. Only the team score counts. 10-pin alleys were found mostly in saloons and places frequented by men. 9-pin bowling alleys were most often built by clubs that catered to families. Freiheit Kegel Verein became synonymous with the area, and Freiheit, Texas was born.

The first Freiheit bowling building was built by club members of wood on cedar post foundation with wood shingles. The two lanes were constructed with 1-by-8 maple lumber purchased from Henne’s Hardware. Lighting was by kerosene lamps. Heat was provided by a potbelly stove. Cooling was provided by opening hinged push-open board windows.

In 1946, the club built a new, bigger building using the two old maple lanes installed in the new building along with two lanes that were purchased and moved from a San Antonio church basement. In 1963, the club broke ground on a third (current) building on adjacent acreage. Even though it is a modern facility they still use human pinsetters.

And the store? Noltes sold the store to Max and Bertha Meyers. After Hermann Ludwig returned from World War I in 1920, he and his wife Linda purchased the store from the Meyers and called it Ludwig’s Store. There was a store and a house with dance hall between. In 1927, the dance hall burned down. The store survived the depression and prohibition. In 1949, the Ludwigs tore down the old store and built the current Freiheit Country Store out of the salvaged materials. Both the store and the neighboring bowling alley often served as a polling place for Election District #16. In 1975, Kermit and Laverne Kraft bought the store, doing away with the dry goods part and promoting the bar. The next owners were Shorty and Rosie Haas in the ‘80s, who began serving burgers and promoting the family atmosphere. Freiheit Country Store was purchased by Mike Reimer and partners in 2006. They expanded the food menu and added music, becoming a restaurant and popular music venue. While being surrounded by the New Braunfels urban sprawl, the Freiheit Bowling Club and Freiheit Country Store continue to keep the community’s past alive.

Sources: Sophienburg Museum & Archives; Sophienburg Reflections Oral History Program #849; Freiheit Kegel Verein 100th Anniversary by Karen Saur Lackey; Rural Schools and Teachers in Comal County, 1854-1956 by Alton J. Rahe; www.tshaonline.org/handbook.

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In 1975, Oscar Haas (known as the historian of New Braunfels) delivered a talk on things he remembered in his youth. Oscar was born in 1895, so by youth, he means somewhere between 1905-1915. One of the things he talked about was his cycling escapades.

Bicycle trips were often made with as many as a dozen boys participating. Usually leaving town by daybreak, and by noon finding a restaurant and after coursing around town, returning to New Braunfels to be home before night.

Personally, I made five trips to Fredericksburg during summer vacation weeks. Three times all by myself, one summer with George Baetge and another with Hermann Overhue. We cycled all the way up to Johnson City, from there to Stonewall, Luckenbach, to Fredericksburg, from there via Comfort, Boerne, and Anhalt back home.

Hmmm…. would I have let my young teenage boy jump on his “Zweirad” (two-wheeler) and head into the hill country? The world was so much more gentle back then. Haas described several of these cycling trips in the New Braunfels Herald in 1909, “Three Successful Vacation Trips on Racycles.”

… to silently glide out of town into the fresh morning air and “just go a sailing,” coasting down the long slopes of the country roads, up the hills and down again in a speed that the air howls past the ears and you grab on to the handle bars as to a bucking pony, in shooting the gullies leaving a whirl of dust behind; down, down you go missing a rock here and there by an inch, of course you see these, in time, ahead and steer accordingly, then off-hand, noiselessly on, on the smooth road, faster than all teams on the road, yet slow enough to glance right and left over the fields, pastures, hills and valleys…

In reading this I was first struck by the poetry of his great writing style. I can see and hear and feel the freedom he is describing. I then caught on the phrase, “faster than all teams on the road.” Finally, it hits me that this was written by a 14-year-old! I’m just going to put my pencil down and let Oscar continue.

In 1907 Herm. Overhue and I decided to take a week’s trip during our vacation. On a map we outlined a route … we measured the distances between these towns and thus scheduled each day’s riding … we made a list of things necessary for our comfort … for every pound weighs double when it is added to a bicycle, though the Racycle was just as easy with a heavy load, but sometimes it is necessary to carry the outfit through a stream or push up a little mountain. The first on our list was a tent … in two pieces of 8 oz duck 5 feet wide and 6 feet long. In this we had button holes made so we could button it together, then two tent poles each of three pieces made of broom handles so we could take them apart like a fishing rod, then ropes and spikes … a blanket for each also an extra pair of trousers, shirt, under wear, hosiery, towels, repair tools, bicycle lamp and carbide for same, frying pan, enameled coffee pot, plates, cups, knives and forks, ground coffee, salt, pepper and sugar in air tight tin cans, fishing tackle and various other smaller articles all of this we divided equally and rolled it up in half a tent, fastening the bundle in back of the bicycle seat with six-foot leather straps. In a leather bag we carried postals, paper, envelopes, stamps, pencils, memo books, comb, shoe polish, chain oil, chain links, valves, pump etc., a water canteen strapped over the shoulders, which we refilled often, for water is the main part on a trip.

I’m not for sure I would have made a list that was that inclusive. I’m totally sure my sons would not have. But then, these were young men from a different era. They took along towels, letter writing stuffs, shoe polish? I’m literally shaking my head.

… on Sunday evening, June 19th, 1907, at 7 o’clock we started and with lamp light rode to Smithson’s Valley. At 11 o’clock we pitched camp … slept till 6 o’clock Monday morning. Our intentions were to wake up earlier. At 7 o’clock after a hearty breakfast we were on the road again, singing, laughing and whistling. We mailed postals at Smithson’s Valley and then coasted down the long hills to the Guadalupe river, from there on it was mostly up-hill work. At 10:30 we arrived at Twin Sisters, mailed postals, bought provisions and pressed on for Blanco City where under a shady tree we had dinner and rested till 2 o’clock. We then started for Johnson City, roads were fine, but more and higher hills, going down, we always made up for lost time and we would soon have arrived at our destination for the day, but we could not pass a lady driving a shying horse. It was slow progress for an hour or so when finally she turned off. At 5 o’clock we were in Johnson City, cyclometer showing 56 miles from New Braunfels. After mailing postals, and looking around we bought eggs, butter, bread and bacon and started out to a spring of fresh water near the road about 2 miles from town, found a good camping place with plenty of wood for an all-night campfire and had supper before sundown. We sat around the fire and after a bath, we rolled up in our blankets. A refreshing breeze from the south, brushed the mosquitos off our faces, towards the north lightning was going.

Did you notice that they have popped “postals” in the mail three times in two days? You might think they are keeping the parents informed but, really, they stopped at each post office along their route to mark their progress. The two boys got an early start the next morning but met with trouble.

… all of a sudden we both took a tumble, we had struck real heavy sands and the wheels refused to turn. From there on “walk and push” was the game … The next P. O. we came to was Stone Wall …the sand getting deeper and heavier…

The two get Fredericksburg after 9 hours, travelling only 31 miles, and resolved never to take that route again.

They camped on the Pedernales using camphor-ice for sunburn and to keep mosquitoes away. The next morning, they started for Kerrville riding through both sand and a drizzling rain. Except for some rutting from wagon wheels in the mud, the ride was easy into Comfort. They camped near the Guadalupe River but were awakened by a storm. Undaunted, they got up at 3 am, were back on the road by 4, reaching Boerne at 9:30 am.

We stayed in town till 6 o’clock, rode down to Cibolo, crossed over and pitched camp, where frogs concerted all night. At 5 o’clock Friday morning we were on the road again going to Leon Springs. There we mailed postals and then rode to San Antonio. In the evening we rode out to Look Out where we camped for the last time on this trip and Saturday morning we came back home with a total of 235 miles. We broke no records … but made the trip like we had planned.

Fun times in the old days. But you know what? Growing up here as late as the ‘60s, the town still felt very “Mayberry-like”. We rode our bikes all around town, stopping for water straight out of the Comal Springs and sometimes a lime freeze at Ol’ Bossy. I wouldn’t trade those days for anything money can buy.

Sources:

• Oscar Haas Collection – Sophienburg Museum & Archives
• New Braunfels Herald

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Kids of all ages gravitate to superheroes. I come from a time when the superhero list was relatively short: Superman, Mighty Mouse and Sky King. My favorite was Sky King, of course. But my real heroes — the ones I pretended to be in the backyard with all my neighborhood friends — were firemen. When your family members and your friends’ family members are firemen, it seems kind of a natural thing to play. Perhaps that’s why I find the history of the New Braunfels Fire Department fascinating.

Back in January 2017, Myra Lee Adams Goff covered the early history of the fire department (from 1874 up to about 1918) in her Around the Sophienburg article, “New Braunfels Fire Department — years of service”. In 1918, the city built and outfitted a new state of the art fire station, complete with three engine bays and sleeping quarters upstairs for the first paid firemen. That station became known as Central Station. It was the heartbeat of the firefighting community, for both paid men and volunteers. As a child, Central Station WAS the fire station to me. It held the shiny red engines in its neatly painted bays with pressed tin ceilings. The bay doors were almost always open and the firemen would often sit on the metal benches out front. This station also had a tower with a siren that went off exactly at noon every day without fail (or some poor young fireman would catch heck). That siren was the signal that my Opa would be home for lunch in 5 minutes. The tower isn’t there anymore, but the original 1918 station stands ready right next to the new Central Station. That building, located at 131 Hill Ave. is now the Fire Department Museum, and you can see all the cool history inside.

As New Braunfels grew, so did the need to protect the city. A community’s fire rating (insurance rate) is based on the building codes and the fire department’s ability to reach and extinguish a fire in the shortest amount of time. In 1931, the city saw fit to build Station No. 2., the one-story building that stood on the corner of Coll and Sycamore (next to the water tower) enabling fire coverage without having to wait for a train. The station originally housed one truck (the 1913 American LaFrance moved from Central Station) and two firemen with their families. Yes, families. R. Ebensberger and Hilmar Voigt were the first to occupy the station with family living quarters. Hilmar H. H. Chili Voigt was my Opa. He and my Oma moved in for a short time when my aunt was 11 and my uncle was 5. The station was replaced with the current Station No. 2. located on Loop 337 near Solms in 1975.

Station No. 3 was in Comaltown which was annexed by New Braunfels in 1868. Comal did have a fire house on N. Houston Ave. near where Lamar school is now, but it was torn down in 1925.

In 1950 the city bought and refurbished a 2-story building on the corner of Union and Garza (now Christus’ parking lot). The building had housed Simon’s Garage & Service Station on one end and Dolle’s Saloon on the other with the Hermann Son’s Lodge upstairs. From 1925 — 1950, fire protection had to come from Central Station across the Comal River. Station No. 3 remained in service until 1983 when the current station was built on Hanz Lane.

The city passed a bond in 1968 that built Station No. 4 on Kerlick Lane. It came online in 1970, went out of service for a while and then came back into service. The current Station No. 4 was built on Alyssa Way in 2012. Stations 5 and 6 are relatively new. No. 5 was built on County Line Road before 2006 and No. 6, on Stone Gate, came online in 2008.

To give you an idea of the department’s growth, in 1918, the department operated with three to four paid men and four companies of 15 volunteers each. By 1973, there were 28 paid men and 60 volunteers. Today there are 135 paid firefighters. The volunteer organization dissolved in the early 2000’s.

My Opa started with the fire department as a volunteer in about 1922. He became a ‘paid man’ in 1931, made Assistant Chief in 1958 and retired as Fire Marshal in 1966 after 35 years on the job. He also was a house painter/paper hanger, as most firemen needed a second job to make ends meet. Both my dad and uncle were members and officers of the New Braunfels Volunteer Fire Department for over 20 years, as were many of their friends. It was a way to give back to your community. The “hero games” we played as kids revolved around what we heard and saw. We pretended that the “Plectron” would go off (an electronic notification system at each volunteer captain’s house). One of us would jump on the “truck” (bicycle) and the other would stay by the phone, activating the “phone tree.” We also practiced for Pumper Races with the garden hose. As we got older, we took pride in being able to identify any firetruck coming our way—without seeing it, just by the sound of its siren. My favorite story about Central Station involved my Opa and my uncle. During WWII my uncle had joined the Army and, after completing basic in San Antonio, the soldiers shipped out by train. No one was allowed to notify family of their new orders or duty stations. My uncle knew that the train would pass right in front of the fire station, where the men sometimes sat out front on benches. He wrote on a rock he had picked up before boarding. Just as the train pulled through downtown New Braunfels, he stepped out onto the platform and threw the rock towards the fire station. My Opa no longer worried about my uncle going overseas. The rock said, “Aberdeen, Maryland.”

Firemen were — and are — a brotherhood. They risk their lives daily to protect the community, buildings, and people from fire, flood and disaster. They work hard and play hard, but they alone know what they see in their work and they carry it with them. THEY are my heroes and their history lives in the 1918 Central Fire Station. She looks pretty grand for 100 years old.

Sources:

• Sophienburg Archives
• New Braunfels Herald
• Sophienburg “Reflections”
• New Braunfels Fire Department

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