By Tara V. Kohlenberg —

In this day and age, most everyone has heard of “planned communities.” They are essentially little towns (or subdivisions) that are perfectly engineered to have just the right ratio of houses to businesses to green space, carefully packaged to attract more people to a region. We see the advertisements all the time. Would you believe that New Braunfels, along with nearly every community established by the Adelsverein, is actually a planned community … right down to the “planned open spaces”?

When Prince Carl arrived with the first immigrants, he had Nicholas Zink, a civil engineer, survey the area, lay out town lots and blocks, and designate “planned open spaces” for future use such as churches, meeting areas and other town properties. Immigrants under the auspices of the Verein were to receive a town lot, a farm lot and assistance with basic supplies and food to help them get started in Texas.

Originally, the food was distributed from the Vereinsgebäude (headquarters buildings) und Magazin (warehouse) on Sophienburg Hill. The Magazin, once located approximately where the Dittlinger home stands, is how Magazine Street came to be named. As more and more immigrants arrived, it became clear that the provisions held by the warehouse were not sufficient to support them all. So, like all good people in Texas, they bought cattle!

Cattle to provide the daily provision of beef. Cattle for survival. I know what you are thinking … where did they keep them? Downtown, of course. On a wonderful little “planned open space” just a stone’s throw from the center of town, the Verein set up a meat distribution center for immigrants. That sounds lovely, doesn’t it? Except, the whole “hoof-to-table” operation was right there on the space of one downtown block — combination stockyard/slaughterhouse/butcher shop in August heat. Mmmmm.

The Verein engaged butcher Henry Burkhart to run the slaughterhouse. Initially, the new immigrants were not charged for the butchering service until the successful establishment of the town was assured. The only charge was for the cost to purchase the animals for butchering. People had to arrive early in the morning to receive their ration of meat for the day.

A late 1840s map shows that the unnamed town lot had a building called the Fleischhalle located on the south end of the open lot, right at the edge of Comal Avenue. Fleischhalle translates literally as “Meat Hall,” but “Meat Market”, “Butcher Shop” or “Market House” would be a more recognizable to us. It was described as an open air shed for butchering. The area around the Market House became known as the Marktplatz, now Market Plaza.

As the town grew, so did private enterprise. In 1857, city ordinances regulated butchering and required meat to be sold only through the Market House. Multiple butchers, each with their own cutting blocks, rented space in the butcher shed that was said to be 20 feet wide and 40 or 60 feet long. Holding cattle in town was no longer necessary. In the afternoons, the butchers would go out to the farms to purchase the beeves, then they would butcher and field-dress and skin the carcasses there in the country. They would bring the carcasses to the shed to hang and cool overnight, dropping the skins off at either of the two tanneries. Incidentally, one of those two tanneries was Tolle Tannery. The Market Plaza faces Comal Avenue and is bordered on three sides by Tolle Street. Tolle Street leads down to the Comal River and former location of Tolle Tannery.

What began as a short-term solution to supply the immigrants with provisions evolved into a long-term commercial success lasting more than 60 years. New Braunfels continued to grow and became more “worldly” with the arrival of the railroad in 1880. The smelly business of butchering, complete with flies, was no longer welcome by downtown residents and businesses. (There was no AC!)    In 1908, a petition by citizens on Market Square was presented to the city, calling attention to the unsanitary condition of the surroundings and things began to change.

After serving the area as a central market point, Market Plaza was rented out for various activities. It was the perfect location for storing various crops, such as cotton, until they could be processed in the mills. The site was also the perfect location for a variety of entertainment, including amusement rides, carnivals, music shows and traveling tent theaters. It was close to the center of town, but away from any “traffic” or noise from horse-drawn carriages and automobiles of the day.

It is possible that one of the first movies shown in New Braunfels was at the Market Plaza. In a 1973 New Braunfels Herald-Zeitung article, Frederic Oheim shared remembrances of the first film being shown in New Braunfels. It was a series of short subjects shown as part of a traveling carnival set up on Market Plaza, although he did not see it. He was a kid, and the topic was a little risque.

Just like now, any open space becomes attractive to those who want to build. The Market Plaza was considered as a building site for several projects through the years, but none were carried out, including: an American Legion Memorial Hall (1921), a New City Hall (1929), a Community Center (1934), and a parking lot (1956). In 1937, Emmie Seele Faust offered to fund the building of the first free-standing public city library if they built it on Market Plaza. The citizens of the surrounding streets complained that it would create too much traffic. Emmie Seele Faust Library was then built on the corner of Coll and Magazine, on a lot offered by the Sophienburg Memorial Association.

Even­tu­ally, af­ter failed at­tempts to build on the Plaza for any use, it be­came a park. The Mar­ket Plaza park on Tolle Street is ap­prox­i­mately 500 feet long and 60 feet wide. The City of New Braun­fels has taken steps in re­cent years to make the park even more invit­ing by adding side­walks, pic­nic ta­bles, shade per­gola, land­scap­ing and a wa­ter foun­tain.

The Comal County Historic Commission has designated Market Plaza at 292 Tolle St. as an historic site, the significance of which helped ensure the survival of New Braunfels founding families in 1845. The importance of this historic site will be commemorated with a Texas Historic Marker ceremony to be held in the coming months. Stay tuned.

Sources: Comal County Historic Commission; Sophienburg Museum & Archives.

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

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By Keva Hoffmann Boardman —

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One more story …

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

Ah, now that’s entertainment!!!

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

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

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By Tara V. Kohlenberg —

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sources: Sophienburg Museum and Archives; Dennis Schwab.

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Doing research on the Sophienburg Hill property brings back memories of my 7th and 8th grade at New Braunfels High School. How does the museum fit together with the 7th and 8th grades, you ask? Here’s the story:

My introduction to the first two years in NBHS, the 7th and 8th grades, were totally filled with activities where boys and girls interacted with one another. This may sound strange to you, but at Lamar Elementary (for me up to 6th grade), the boys were in the back playground and the girls in the front. An occasional wave was about as close as we got. I’m talking about the era of Shirley Temple and the Our Gang comedy boys. So going to the big NBHS was quite a culture shock.

But boys and girls were eager to meet each other, even 7th graders. The PTA tried to address this need by providing places where students could get together. The first of these places was above the Jacob Mendlovitz Dept. Store downtown on San Antonio St. (now the Antique Mall on the corner of San Antonio St. and Castell Ave. The upstairs was open to students on week-ends and chaperoned by PTA members, mostly mothers). The wooden floor made wonderful dancing to the Nickelodeon. Occasionally someone would entertain with a skit or a song.

Needless to say, the location wasn’t too popular with the downtown merchants and when someone crawled out on the window awning over the sidewalk, it was time to look for another place.

On Butcher St. the school district had a big building that was converted into an entertainment center called the “Unicorn Stables.” Open to all NBHS students, there was dancing and even skating party nights. It even hosted formal dances.

But all this planned activity was not enough for the Shirley Temple/Our Gang 7th grade crowd. We had enough of all that planned activity. We already had the Mariners and the Sea Scouts who often interacted with each other on Lake Dunlap. Mariners were the top echelon Girl Scouts and the Sea Scouts were the top echelon Boy Scouts. As fate would have it, the Mariner adult leader and the Sea Scout adult leader both had family camps on Lake Dunlap. It was only natural that the two groups would meet at the same time at the lake. The boys took delight in showing off their boating skills by dumping the girls out of the boat into the water. Blue jeans and saddle oxford shoes weighed a ton.

Before Caller I.D., one of our favorite activities was to telephone the opposite sex and hang up when they answered. One of my friend’s father, a businessman, had a second telephone in the bathroom. What fun we had, calling the boys and then flushing the commode. Today’s youth cannot do that without being arrested. I think it’s called harassment. On Saturdays we called Krause Café and in our broken German would ask, “Hast do Schmier Kase heute?” Translation: Do you have cream cheese today? Then we would hang up and start the giggling routine. Why, you ask?

The picture show was a favorite hang-out. The theatre had to hire a person to walk up and down the aisles with a flashlight and one never knew when you would be spotlighted. Saturday was double feature day and so it was possible to spend the whole afternoon and evening in the movies. You never sat in the same seat for very long. It was kind of like “fruit basket turnover” or “popcorn bag turnover.” Getting popcorn thrown at you was a sign to turn around. If there was an empty seat, you moved to it.

The girls did lots of spending the night at each other’s houses. I don’t think the boys did that. It was years before I could spend the night at anyone’s house. I would get so homesick that I would have to be taken home. There’s nothing like a guest with dry heaves. I finally made it through the night my senior year. A friend had a big slumber party at their big house downtown for all girls at NBHS. I made it all night by sitting up fully clothed in the bathtub.

Almost all of my classmates had their driver’s license by age 14. There was almost no traffic so that made a big difference. Six 14-year-old girls (me included) drove out to a vacant ranch house out of town owned by the parents of one of the girls. We were going to spend the weekend in this house totally unchaperoned. We got to the ranch house in the afternoon full of confidence and independence.

When it started to get dark, we decided we would drive back to town to go to the movies. I have always wondered about that decision. We left the porch light on because we knew it would be dark when we got back. Sure enough, it was almost ten o’clock when we drove back to the ranch.

Coming over the hill leading to the house we were quite alarmed as we saw that the porch light was out. Pitch dark. We told ourselves all kinds of stories as to why that light was out and why it was so dark in the country.

We entered the house through the kitchen door and built a fire in the fireplace. We turned on the radio and on came the Mary Roberts Reinhart Mystery Theater. That program was known for the scariest of all mysteries, like all of Edgar Allen Poe’s mysteries. Even the theme song was scary. I think it was from Swan Lake. That program made your heart beat faster but for some reason we were drawn to listen to it, as they say, “like a moth to a flame.”

Suddenly there was an unfamiliar sound coming from the basement under the house. It sounded like bottles breaking. Absolutely stiff with fear, one of the girls went over to the door in the floor leading to the cellar. She screamed and claimed that someone was trying to push the door open. All six, like stampeding cattle ran to the kitchen looking for shelter. Some sat under the table, some in a closet and I remember standing up in the shower. There we froze until the sun peeped across the horizon and we packed up and left. But one more thing: outside we checked the half-open window leading to the cellar and discovered foot prints in the mud. We were in the car and out of there and no, did not go back.

We never solved that mystery but I’m sure that if there was someone there, they were more afraid than we were. Now come on, you guys that were in the cellar, fess up.
Back to why the Sophienburg Hill stories reminded me of my 7th and 8th grades. It was because my 7th grade friends had get-togethers of boys and girls most Saturday nights. One particular party was held at the old Ernst Gruene mansion where the Sophienburg Museum now sits. It’s been torn down but not because of this story. At the party, there was lots of dancing and record playing, popcorn and cheese dip, Orange Crush and Dr. Pepper with peanuts. But one activity was a little iffy. This is why I haven’t mentioned any names of participants in this whole column.

Our favorite game was “Spin the Bottle.” Sitting in a circle, someone would spin the bottle and when it stopped, the person it pointed to had to kiss them. This was a very popular game.

Suddenly there was commotion on the front porch. Two senior boys were spying on our little fun game. Pandemonium broke out. The worst of it is that they wanted to start a newspaper for NBHS. Guess what! They printed their own little paper and on the front page was the story of our private party. It was handed out to 7th-12th graders. It was so embarrassing and that was the end of our Saturday night parties.

Almost every time I enter the Sophienburg Museum I think of that 7th grade year and I go there often.

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