Another downtown building, the Phoenix Saloon owners Ross and Debbie Fortune, are applying for a Texas Historical Marker. The Phoenix Saloon history really does live up to the story of the Phoenix, a legendary bird that builds its own funeral pyre, throws itself into the fire, lays an egg in the ashes and hatches a new Phoenix bird. This legend has been used often as a metaphor for rebirth or resurrection. The metaphor fits the local Phoenix Saloon.

The property at the corner of east Castell and west San Antonio Sts., according to the late Roberta Mueller, was owned by Valentine Sippel, her great grandfather. Valentine married Anna Ossman and they had three children: Kaytrina, who was crippled, Henry, who was killed in the Civil War, and finally son John, who lived to be 50 years old by his own choice, when he committed suicide.

John Sippel married into the successful Gruene family by marrying Johanna Gruene. After six children, the marriage ended in a bitter divorce, according to family members. Sippel had built the Phoenix Saloon in 1871 and moved into the second floor. Christian Hohmann and Henry Meier operated a bar and billiard room on the first floor of the two-story building. H.R. Schumacker operated a brewery in the basement from 1872 to 1875, selling a keg of beer for $2.25 and a glass for 5 cents, the going rate at the time.

About 40 different persons are associated with the proprietorship, bartending of the saloon, and sometimes restaurant, too many names to put in this column. The building was also called by several names until 1895 when it was finally called the Phoenix Saloon and Restaurant.

Trouble

An unfortunate incident occurred in 1885 when proprietor Walter Krause fought with a customer named James Alexander. Testimonies of two men in the saloon that day (Harry Mergele and Emil Schertz), stated that Alexander asked Krause how much he owed and Krause told him a quarter. Alexander said that he would pay him after pay day. Krause took exception to this and called him ugly names. Alexander left the building to go to Naegelin’s Bakery (apparently he worked there) and returned with one dollar, put it on the bar and retaliated with more ugly names. Krause jumped him from behind the bar and they exchanged blows. Alexander then left the bar as Krause was bleeding near the eye. Twelve days later Krause died as a result of the wounds.

Beer garden and chili

One of the attractions of the Phoenix was its beer garden facing San Antonio St. Women were welcome out there, but not inside. Women never went inside a saloon. The beer garden was between the saloon and the old Comal County Courthouse facing San Antonio St. The garden was also accessible from Castell St. at the back of the building next to the Ludwig Hotel which was located in what is now the parking lot of Chase Bank. Sippel had built a small pool with a fountain in the garden containing gold fish, a large catfish, and even a baby alligator. It was a popular gathering place downtown. Bells hanging from the trees summoned waiters from inside.

Another big attraction was William Gebhardt’s cafe at the back of the saloon. Gebhardt developed a sort of stew using ground up ancho peppers that he called Tampico Dust. This extremely popular concoction caused Gebhardt in 1892 to move to San Antonio where his brother-in-law, Albert Kronkosky, Sr. helped him organize the Gebhardt Chili Powder Co. Gebhardt’s wife was Rosa Kronkosky, sister of Albert. Incidentally Albert Kronkosky, Jr. was a very successful businessman who eventually owned the San Antonio Drug Co. as well as being a major stockholder in Merck & Co. Thus the Kronkosky Charitable Foundation was founded.

Prohibition

In 1895 a fire caused damage to the saloon as well as Fritz Maier’s “German Advocate” newspaper on the second floor, but the Phoenix rose again. After the reopening of the saloon there were many proprietors and “when everything was going right, up popped the devil – PROHIBITION”. The advent of prohibition dealt a blow to the saloon world. In NB as early as 1887 the second floor of the Phoenix had become the headquarters of the Anti-Prohibition movement for Comal County. Prohibition was a national issue so each state was to vote either for or against. New Braunfels held rallies around the Plaza and when the vote came up, Comal County voted 100% against prohibition. ”Gambrinus”, the legendary inventor of beer, had many followers in Comal County. At that time there were four breweries in New Braunfels: Rennert Brewery, Dampmann Brewery, Guenther Brewery and New Braunfels Brewing Co. This last one managed to stay open by producing a “near beer” called Busto.

During WWI, prohibition had linked itself with patriotism. First saloons were closed to soldiers and then in a burst of wartime feeling in 1918 the state of Texas voted in favor of prohibition. Rumors of an illicit brewery have circulated in NB but there is no proof. In the basement of the Phoenix there is a hole in the wall that some have speculated was an underground tunnel, but it turns out that it was probably a storage place for coal for the heating system.

Prohibition went into effect January of 1920, but the Phoenix Saloon closed down from 1918 to 1922. Then came two financial blows to the country, especially the government – the Great Depression and the fall of the stock market. One solution to these problems for the government was to repeal Prohibition so that taxes could be collected from the sale of liquor. Prohibition was repealed by 1933.

Building expansion

In 1922 the building was bought by Albert Ludwig, who expanded the building and added a third floor for the Masonic Lodge #1109. Jacob Schmidt bought the building in 1927 and operated a clothing store for 60 years. Several other businesses followed from 1996.

The latest rise of the Phoenix occurred when the Fortunes bought the property and brought it back to its original purpose, a saloon that has music and even serves chili. The Phoenix has risen again and remains a historic site!

The post Phoenix Saloon applies for historical designation appeared first on Sophienburg Museum and Archives.

An extremely important building in downtown New Braunfels has been saved and renovated by Pat and Becky Wiggins. It is the old Post Office building on the corner of Castell and Mill. It now serves a new purpose, being McAdoo’s Restaurant. The owners are applying for a subject marker with the Texas Historical Commission. This subject marker commemorates the postal system in New Braunfels.

In his 8th report to the Adelsverein, Prince Carl said that some postal arrangements had to be made between Galveston and the new settlement of NB “since the Texas Post is dependent on the weather and more or less on the amount of whiskey the mail driver had consumed and could, therefore, be very uncertain.”

Perhaps Prince Carl’s statement had something to do with the location of the very first post office. Count Arnold-Henkel von Donnersmark came to NB with Prince Carl and built a hotel/saloon on a lot across the street from the present McAdoo’s Restaurant. Donnersmark made quite a lot of money by buying barrels of whiskey in San Antonio and selling it to emigrants. Von Donnersmark’s building served as the first post office in the new settlement with C. W. Thomae acting as the first postmaster. In 1851 Adolph Benner became the next postmaster, and when he died, his wife became the first post- mistress (There was only one other woman serving as postmistress in NB – Charlsie Witham in 1927). Mrs. Louise Benner served until after the Civil War, at which time she was replaced by Christian Holtz. During Reconstruction, all public servants that had served in the Confederacy were replaced.

After that, the post office was in various places -the bus station, the courthouse, Seele’s residence, and Pfeuffer’s store. In 1915, Pres. Woodrow Wilson signed a law appropriating $50,000 to build a post office in New Braunfels. The Secretary of Treasury at that time in charge of post offices was, surprise, William G. McAdoo, hence the later McAdoo’s Restaurant.

The lot for the new building was purchased from Adolph Henne who also owned the lot across the street where the Donnersmark building had been. The San Antonio firm of Weston & Kroeger bid of $40,949 was accepted and the work was to be completed in 15 months. Supervisor for the whole construction job was Murray M. Davis.
The post office in downtown served the community of NB from 1915 to 1985 at which time, needing more space, it moved to Seguin St. where it remains. The old building was eventually sold to Pat and Becky Wiggins who took on the gigantic task of restoration.

After months the restaurant opened for business. All furnishings inside the building had been removed. Every bit of metal, including inside doors and wood was restored, repurposed or put in storage. The long leaf pine floors were preserved as was the Marble Falls pink and grey granite. Some of the grey granite from the restrooms was used as the bar countertop. Outside the back door was the loading area which is now the porch. In one corner of this porch, you can see a hot water heater. It’s not any old hot water heater; it was used to burn trash to heat water for the showers. I know, you’re thinking they burned garbage. No, there wasn’t much of anything in the post office except paper.

To the right of the lobby on the first floor was where money was handled – savings bonds, money orders, etc. This is now the bar. Behind the lobby in the back half of the building was the workroom and also female employee restroom. To the left of the lobby was the postmaster’s office with private bathroom.

To me, the most interesting section of the post office was the basement. It was not accessible to the public when it was a post office. It was as large as the building upstairs. There was a Civil Service room where people could apply for federal jobs and take care of anything that had to do with the federal government. The basement housed a giant boiler with its coal fuel room.

There was a room that was called the swing room. Working shifts, sometimes 12 hours, with no air conditioning, the letter carriers often rested in the swing room. There was a shower for them to bathe in the men’s restroom nearby.

Now we come to a really intriguing practice in those days. The postmaster’s office on the first floor had a closet that was always locked. On the other side of this door was a ladder that led to the passageway called a lookout on the building plan, but mostly called the “catwalk” by those who knew about it. This catwalk was a passageway above the entire building, over all floors and even over the restrooms and extended into the basement. The catwalk was not lighted in order to keep a person from being seen as they looked down through louvered “peep holes”. The employees were being watched because a great deal of money was handled in the post office.

Once a month, unannounced, the postmaster, with the only key to the catwalk, was told to take the firemen and custodial staff to clean. The postmaster and his staff were also spied on by the representatives of the Federal Postal System. These men arrived during the night, entering from the basement into the catwalk and did their observing undetected, leaving again during the night. If you look up at the ceiling in the main restaurant, you can see double rails on which the catwalk hung. The Wiggins’ removed the catwalk. Thank you!

By 1984 the old post office had run out of room. The building was sold and a new post office was built on Seguin Ave. When you are at McAdoo’s, look around and you can appreciate the amount of work that went into this project. The historical marker will commemorate 100 years of this building in 2015.

The post Post office has evolved in 100 years appeared first on Sophienburg Museum and Archives.

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.

The post Dowsing for water and switching for graves appeared first on Sophienburg Museum and Archives.