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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The year 1898 was the year of the Comal County Courthouse and the year of the Spanish-American War. In 1998 Dr. Robert Govier translated the “Neu Braunfelser Zeitung” from German into English for the Sophienburg . The Govier and Adams families were old family friends. Before Bob died, he gave me a personal copy of many of his writings.

The war and the courthouse were the two most covered events of that year. Some of the trivia in the paper will give you an idea of how things stacked up here in 1898. The Zeitung was written in German, the editor was Eugene Kaiser and the once-a-week paper subscription was $2.50 a year and $3.00 if sent to Germany.

The original CC Courthouse was located on the corner of the plaza where the Chase Bank stands. Plans were presented by six architects from Houston, Austin, and San Antonio. The plans of architect J. Riely Gordon were chosen. Judge Ad. Giesecke voted against the plan, as did Commissioner Schulze, Jr. Commissioners Marbach, Startz, and Adams voted for Gordon’s plan. Contractors chosen were Fischer and Lambie. Fischer was a New Braunfels native.

In May, the cornerstone was laid. Bands played, and flag-waving school children marched from school to the plaza. City and County officials marched in step. The cornerstone was suspended over the southern corner of the completed ground floor. Historical items were placed in a metal box and with three ceremonial hammer strokes, the stone was consecrated by pouring corn, wine and oil on it from a silver chalice. (Incidentally, Schulze refused to have his name on the cornerstone)

After the ceremony the crowd made its way to Gottlieb Oberkampf’s garden where children were served lemonade and adults were served beer.

The other big headliner was the Spanish-American war between Spain and the United States. The US intervened in the Cuba Libra war against Spain for independence. Conflicts between Spain and its possession, Cuba, had been going on for years and American sentiment towards the Spanish atrocities had reached a high point by 1898.

Pres. McKinley sent the USS Maine to Havana to protect American citizens. The Maine suffered a massive explosion in Havana Harbor. The cause was unknown but with the death of 266 sailors, American opinion demanded retaliation against Spain. War was declared by the US on Spain in April of 1898.

After four months of conflict, the war was over. The US gained almost all of Spain’s colonies – Philippines, Guam and Puerto Rico. Cuba formed its own government and gained independence in 1902. During this war, Theodore Roosevelt and his Rough Riders trained in San Antonio.

The paper was not without its trivia about this war. The Naval Dept. was acquiring 10,000 carrier pigeons. In Key West, a special building for three weeks of training was built. The birds would be trained until they were capable of covering points near Havana to Key West.

Local news reflects the social aspect of the town. In that year, all babies that were born were listed throughout the paper but in a different way than today. “The mayor Carl Jahn and his wife had a baby girl.” The father’s name was listed in that way, not giving any credit to the mother.

There was an abundance of entertainment, particularly in the form of masked balls-Thorn Hill, Orth’s Pasture, Vogel’s Valley, and Children’s Masked Ball. The shooting club was active and the Men’s Singing Clubs celebrated with the “clinking of glasses”. A famous diver named Felton, would perform at the garden by diving from the roof of the high building into a basin of water 3½ feet deep. For sports lovers, one can travel on the International train between NB and Austin for $1.25 round trip to attend the “Base Ball” game.

New downtown: Sylvester Simon built a two story handsome pub right next to the new courthouse. Hmm. Also downtown, a sidewalk was built in front of the Gruene building on San Antonio St. (Calahans) A night watchman was hired to ” get around by bicycle”. (Horses were the main means of transportation) The city purchased a water wagon to sprinkle the streets. I’m sure that was a big thing since the streets were not paved.

Here it is, 114 years later. We still have a lively downtown, war, pubs, entertainment but hallelujah we don’t have a water wagon!

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By Tara V. Kohlenberg —

Some stories write themselves. Some, like this one, began as one idea before evolving into something completely different. The idea stemmed from a visit with Myra Lee Adams Goff, (you know, accomplished author and the one that started this column) when she handed me a copy of the The Golden Book of Favorite Songs. I had seen copies of this songbook in the Sophienburg Archives, but never researched it. I took it as a challenge.

The gold-colored 126-page booklet by Hall & McCreary Company, copyrighted in 1915 and 1923, was a favorite keepsake of hers, in part because she sang from the book when she was in school at the Lamar Ward School. A ward is like our attendance zone today. It was also the book used when she began teaching at Lamar Elementary School in 1954. Same school, updated name.

A man by the name of Curt E. Schmidt was named prin­ci­pal of Carl Schurz Ward School in 1931, a year be­fore Myra Lee Adams Goff was born. Schmidt had be­gun his teach­ing ca­reer in 1922 in a one-room school­house in Gille­spie County be­fore teach­ing Eng­lish at New Braun­fels High School. While at Carl Schurz, he earned his law de­gree from St. Mary’s Uni­ver­sity in 1942, leav­ing ed­u­ca­tion to prac­tice law. He re­turned to ed­u­ca­tion as prin­ci­pal of Lamar El­e­men­tary in 1950.

At that time, prin­ci­pals were not re­quired to teach classes, but he of­ten taught art and mu­sic. He was fond of The Golden Book of Fa­vorite Songs. The book was a teacher’s dream, teach­ing mu­sic, his­tory, pa­tri­o­tism, read­ing and re­li­gion all in one. It had songs of every genre: chil­dren’s songs, Christ­mas, Civil War, folk, pa­tri­otic, re­li­gious, Ne­gro “spir­i­tu­als”, with many of the songs’ his­to­ries be­ing given. There were also read­ings or recita­tions: Lin­col­n’s Get­tys­burg Ad­dress, Pledge of Al­le­giance and Twenty-third Psalm. Curt Schmidt led songs from the song­book fre­quently. He or­ches­trated chil­dren’s skits and mu­si­cal pro­grams every year.

Mrs. Goff graduated from Texas Christian University in 1953. Her first teaching job was at Lamar Elementary. Principal Curt E. Schmidt hired her because she could play the piano. She taught music and handwriting to fourth, fifth and sixth graders. She had a degree in secondary education, and there she was, hired to teach music to elementary kids. What’s more, she could not read a lick of music. She played by ear from the age of seven. If she heard it, she could play it.

As Mrs. Goff tells it, at one particular school assembly, while Schmidt was leading songs, he called out a Civil War song on page number sixteen, “Just Before the Battle, Mother.” Well, Mrs. Goff did not know it. She told me that she suffered through, plinking around, pretending, when he finally stopped to ask her what she was playing. She said, “I told you I couldn’t read music.”

I had a natural curiosity about Curt Schmidt. We lived next door to him on Magazine Street for a couple of years up until I was old enough to start school. I never attended school where he was principal. I would later see him orchestrating the Kindermasken Parade when school teachers helped put it on. I thought that the old German dance, Herr Schmidt, was about him. I remember him to be very energetic, almost intense about things. I wondered if my memories about his nature were correct.

Curt Schmidt was an innovator. He was proud of his German heritage and felt strongly about preserving the ways of the ancestors. German language had not been taught in New Braunfels schools since World War I. After thirteen years without German language instruction, Schmidt felt the children needed it. In 1931, he organized German Summer School, devoted entirely to teaching the German language, folkways, folk songs and German pioneer traditions. The number of German School students grew from the initial forty to over three hundred per summer over the years.

The summer program ran until it was crushed by World War II. Since the United States was at war with Germany, everything German became suspect again. Promoting the German language was considered subversive and the German program ended in 1940. You will frequently see the German language textbooks Deutsche Fibel (German Primer) and Erstes Lesebuch (First Reader) that he used in German Summer School in the Sophienburg collection, or estate sales. We have one of each at our house. Schmidt was very persistent. Later, in 1954, as principal of Carl Schurz, he was instrumental in finally getting German and Spanish language electives back into the elementary schools.

Curt Schmidt was ambitious. He first served as principal of Carl Schurz, then after returning from his law practice, he served as principal at Lamar for three years before returning to Carl Schurz. By the time Mrs. Goff returned to teaching after having a family (no pregnant women could teach!), Curt Schmidt was the superintendent of New Braunfels School District. Mrs. Goff’s teaching career led her to Carl Schurz, Lamar and New Braunfels Junior High before authoring her own articles and books to preserve the history of New Braunfels.

Schmidt served as superintendent from 1962 to 1966, during which time he established the first area vocational school in Texas, inaugurated the first Head Start program and established a vocational school of nursing. Overall, he spent forty years as an educator, mostly in New Braunfels. Some loved him, some did not, but he accomplished a lot in his time. He again practiced law from 1970 until his retirement in 1982.

Curt Schmidt loved his German heritage and his community. He was active in Scouting his whole life, earning the Silver Beaver and Scoutmaster Key awards. He was a charter member and past president of the New Braunfels Rotary Club, and active with the Sophienburg Memorial Association. Schmidt wrote and illustrated two books about German Texan pioneers and was the local correspondent to the San Antonio Light for ten years.

I may not have fulfilled my task of writing an article about The Golden Book of Favorite Songs, but in this final year of Lamar Elementary, I have managed to tie together a bunch of things that I did not know about before writing this article: the Songbook, the German primers, German School, Mrs. Goff and Herr Schmidt. It is almost like the Six Degrees of Curt Schmidt. Too much?

Sources: Myra Lee Adams Goff; Sophienburg Musuem and Archives.

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

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By Keva Hoffmann Boardman —

The small dining/living room was stuffed with my eight aunts, seven uncles, Grandma and Grandpa, and my cousins. I think there were about 13 of us kids at the time. It was Christmas. Grandma’s tree was decorated with old ornaments that were not like our 1960s ones. And there were bubble lights — magical, colored-liquid-filled tubes of glass that absolutely mesmerized us.

The night before, Christmas Eve, we had all bathed and washed our hair (not a daily thing) and donned our Christmas finery. I always had new red patent leather “Sunday” shoes; I would get new white patent leather ones for Easter. Then we’d pile into cars and drive to church.

Christmas Eve in the little stone country church was an event full of familiar carols, candlelight and the pungent but refreshing smell of cedar. Some of my aunts would sing in the choir up in the loft. The church was filled with folks we only saw when we came for Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. They were mostly “cousins” and relatives of my Grandpa and Grandma’s families. The highlight of the service was at the end when men, usually my uncles, would hand out a white paper bag, with “Merry Christmas” stamped in red on it, to each child. Inside were oranges, apples, pecans, a peppermint stick, possibly a chocolate Santa and a small toy. Do you remember the metal clicker toys?

But now it was Christmas Day! We had eaten a huge lunch around one long table made of several tables and wood planks. Everyone always sat in the same place, kind of like we do in church. My cousin Becky and I always sat at the end on the piano bench. After lunch, all the leftovers were put away and every dish was handwashed, dried and returned to the cupboards. Then the tables were cleared and taken down, the chairs moved all around the edge of the room, and again, families moved to their oddly pre-ordained places. Then we waited.

Knock, knock, knock.

St. Nikolaus was at the front door. We could see him through the glass. My cousin Becky would begin to whimper. She always cried when St. Nick came. This year, some of us were on a quest to find out if St. Nikolaus was REAL. Last year, we were all agreed that he could have been Uncle Leroy dressed in a costume. He had been missing from the room.

“It’s not Uncle Leroy,” I whispered to my cousins, “he is sitting over there.” We all began counting-up the uncles. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight….and Grandpa!” We looked at each other in shock. But at that moment, an aunty had let HIM in the door.

St. Nikolaus was dressed in a red coat, boots and had a beard…sort of like Santa, but definitely not Santa. For one thing, he was quiet and spoke little. And, he was not at all jolly. He had a bag and a stick and he walked slowly with purpose.

Cousin Becky was crying for real now. The two of us always sat on the bottom stair of the stairs that led to the upstairs dormitory-like bedrooms. Mom was one of six girls and three boys and the upstairs was divided into two large bedrooms. Four of the families gathered had slept up there the night before.

“Shhhhhh….,” I told Becky and put my arm around her.

St. Nikolaus began walking around the room and stopping at each child. He looked at you with a frowny, stern face, and yeah, he was a little scary. But I never cried like Becky did. As he circled the room, each of us waited in stillness for our turn to “face-up and fess-up” to St. Nikolaus. He had come to see if we had been good. “Do you obey your Mother and Father?” “Do you go to church and say your prayers?” In light of his commanding presence, you had to tell the truth.

As soon as he had passed, each of us let out an audible sigh then began to once again take a look around the room to see who was missing. One of the boys snuck out the kitchen door and checked the back porch. Another went to see if there was a strange car parked around the house. But all to no avail. We couldn’t find one clue that would let us know who or what was St. Nikolaus.

“Merry Christmas!” said St. Nick as he went out the front door.

Now you’d think that we would just run after him and see where he went, right? But that was all part of our parents’ ingenious plan, because at that point, presents mysteriously appeared in front of us which totally distracted us from continuing our quest. Ripping paper, giggles, loud voices, laughter, “thank-yous” and hugs had become much more important.

St. Nikolaus had come and gone and we kids were no wiser.

Fast forward 20+ years, and I had my children hang up their stockings on December 5th to see if St. Nikolaus would visit. They dutifully wrote him a letter telling them if they had been good or bad and requesting desired gifts. Their St. Nikolaus always visited in the dead of night and filled their stockings with chocolate oranges, candy canes and a little toy. Except the one time he left them only one piece of chocolate and soap. The soap was for keeping a civil tongue in their mouths; it seems they had been terribly disrespectful to their parents and each other.

St. Nikolaus is a custom that the German immigrants brought to Texas. His feast day is December 6th, but it is on December 5th, St. Nikolaus Eve, that we put up our stockings and wait for his visit. Here at the Sophienburg Museum & Archives, we celebrate this tradition each year. Families can come to the museum at 5pm and 6pm on Thursday, December 5th. Cost is $5 per family and you need to call the museum and make a reservation for your preferred time. St. Nikolaus will visit with the children and they will make an ornament. You can then tour the museum which has been decorated for the holidays. Photos are encouraged, especially photos with St. Nick!

It is a great traditional start to the joyous Christmas season.

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

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The year was 1846, a year after Hermann Seele arrived in Texas. It was the time of year that we, in Texas, understand – July and August. The heat continued to increase and thunder storms made the Guadalupe River rise. A ferry boat at the confluence of the Comal and Guadalupe Rivers had washed away. It was again repaired.

Horrifying scene

Seele crossed the river to the place where the immigrants had been held up from crossing over the flooding Guadalupe. A most horrible scene was observed. Some chests and boxes of the immigrants had been brought over with great effort. Baggage and household goods were laying everywhere waiting with the immigrants to cross the swollen water. Wash was laid out on bushes to dry.

An old farmer lying on a feather bed had a raging fever. Not far away the corpse of a woman was wrapped in a bedspread. Small children were sitting around weeping for their dear, dead mother. The father in vain, tried to understand a discussion with the American wagon owner. What was he telling him to do? He couldn’t understand English.

Walking by the gruesome area, Seele noticed a man leaning against a tree with his hat fallen over off of his head. He wanted to warn him about the danger of sun. Seele went up to the man, shook him, and raised his head “which had sunk to his chest when his wide-opened eyes became fixed on me, motionless and unseeing. The man was dead.” He was buried there on the banks of the Guadalupe.

He passed a tent with nine people lying begging for water. No one would bring them any. Seele brought them water from the river in pails. A long-ago song sung by his mother passed through his mind:

Beyond the island and rocks
We have vanished for eternity.
I feel as though I must weep
Must weep like a child.

From The Cypress by Hermann Seele

Many immigrants camped across the Guadalupe River from Seele’s farm. Many were buried there and years later when the railroad came to New Braunfels, workers discovered the bones of the 29 humans recorded by Ervendberg. The workers scraped them up and reburied them. Today trains roll over the site.

Immigrants planned to settle the San Saba

The real original destination of the Adelsverein German immigrants was the land around the San Saba and Llano Rivers. The Adelsverein had a contract with the Republic of Texas to settle up to 6,000 families and single men in this area. They should have known better, but they didn’t. They knew nothing about Texas.

When Prince Carl arrived in the summer of 1844 to make arrangements for the immigrants to travel from the coast to the land grant, this inland trek from the coast was the biggest challenge he had. He made a trip by horseback to the San Saba and decided that the settlers had to have a half-way destination to stop for supplies.

Unplanned destination became New Braunfels

And so, on March 15, 1845 in San Antonio, Prince Carl purchased the land situated on the Guadalupe and Comal Rivers. This land became the inadvertent final destination of the Adelsverein immigrants. Immediately Prince Carl had Lt. Nicholas Zink plot out a town-site. At the west end of this plotted land was a four-acre cemetery named the New Braunfels Cemetery.

Ervendberg records

When the first immigrants arrived, Rev. Louis Ervendberg recorded some 400 deaths, most of which were buried in the New Braunfels Cemetery in 1845 and 1846. An unnumbered amount of burials took place at the coast and on the side of the road of the trek up from the coast. There are no records to show the exact number or who died at the coast and on the way to New Braunfels. Rev. Ervendberg began his recordings by word of mouth from arriving settlers and it is estimated that 300 or so died at the coast and along the way. He recorded 21 deaths in 1845 and 373 in 1846.

New Braunfels Cemetery

This city cemetery was the first provided for immigrants and dedicated June 25, 1845. The first person buried there was Elise Catherine Reh Peter. Her husband, Gerlach Peter, died a month later. It is presumed that they were victims of a cholera epidemic that was just beginning at this time. Records show that many were buried in nameless graves on the southwest section of the cemetery. Over two hundred deaths recorded by Ervendberg were buried in the New Braunfels Cemetery.

The First Protestant Church is the custodian of those death records. The church has allowed the Sophienburg Archives to copy the records. The records show the name, date of death, age, birthplace, place of burial and cause of death of each of the 348 recorded deaths in 1845 and ’46. The causes of death are so varied that it is impossible to draw any conclusions. So many died of convulsions and something called mucus fever, bilious fever, dysentery, blood poisoning and yellow fever. Most of these sound like symptoms rather than the disease itself. Only two concrete diseases have been identified, cholera and spinal meningitis. Towards the heights of the epidemic with several deaths a day, there were no longer coffins available and many were just buried in a mass grave. The area is marked on the grounds of the cemetery.

Whole families of parents and children sometimes died all at once. All age brackets were victims from the very young to the very old. Several women died of childbirth.

By 1847, the numbers of recorded deaths dropped to 71. One may conclude that this particular epidemic was over.

The rest of the story

When John O. Meusebach accepted the responsibility of taking the place of Prince Carl as Executive Director of the Adelsverein, he was full of optimism. After all, the newspapers in Germany had painted a beautiful picture of Texas. But when Meusebach arrived in Texas, he quickly assessed the misery of the immigrants on the coast. He realized the financial disaster and there was no money to help the immigrants survive on the coast or even to help them get to New Braunfels. He was informed that 5,000 more people were on the way.

What was he to do? He appealed to the Adelsverein who sent a meager amount of money. He then explored the land promised the immigrants around the San Saba and Llano Rivers, the original destination.

In April 25, 1846, Meusebach guided 16 wagons and 180 settlers to colonize Fredericksburg. He then made a peace treaty with the Comanche Indians. This opened up the Texas frontier for settlement.

Meusebach remained a popular personality with the immigrants and in 1851 he was elected State Senator. Two years later, he was appointed commissioner for the German Emigration Co. to issue land certificates to the immigrants brought to Texas by the Adelsverein.

The rest of the story is good, thanks to John O. Meusebach.

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