By Myra Lee Adams Goff —

Have you heard of Sylvester’s Abend? Have you heard of New Year’s Eve? Two names for the same event. To arrive at the Gregorian calendar that we and most European countries use was not an easy process. Many changes took place before the final calendar set up by Pope Gregory XIII was adopted.

Sylvester’s Abend was what the German emigrants called New Year’s Eve, or Dec. 31. The name “Sylvester” translates from Latin as “wild man.” The German “Abend” translates to “evening.” Sylvester’s Abend is named after a Pope of the Roman Catholic Church from 314 A.D. to 335 A.D. Ever since the Gregorian calendar was adopted by most of the world, the feast day celebrated Sylvester’s death on Dec. 31. The name Sylvester’s Abend was used locally for many years but eventually changed to New Year’s Eve. The local German American Society still uses Sylvester’s Abend.

Speaking of Sylvester’s Abend traditions, some of the interpreters at the Sophienburg who grew up in Germany remember a practice carried out on New Year’s Eve called Bleigiessen or “lead pouring.” It resembles the practice of reading tea leaves to predict the next year’s events. A small amount of lead is melted in a spoon over a candle. Then the molten lead is poured into a bowl of water and the pattern that forms predicts events of the coming year. There is a long list of what these forms could mean. Sounds like an entertaining game.

Advertisements in the old Neu Braunfelser Zeitung newspapers give a hint of how New Year’s Eve was celebrated locally. Dances at halls in town and in nearby settlements were prevalent. A popular early hall was Matzdorf Halle which eventually became Echo Hall and then finally, Eagles Hall. There were dances at Sweet Home Hall at Solms, Walhalla at Smithson’s Valley, Teutonia Halle, Anhalt, Landa Park, Reinarz Hall, Schwab Hall, Lenzen Hall, and smaller ones. Downtown Seekatz Opera House, built in 1901, was a popular dance hall with its stage, dressing rooms, kitchen, and large main floor with seats that could be removed easily for dances. An added feature was a balcony for onlookers and private club rooms on the second floor in the front of the building. At midnight the fire siren would blow.

All of the dances furnished trappings of the celebration of the coming of the New Year with noisemakers and fireworks. Designed to ward off evil, fireworks and noisemakers go back to ancient times.

In a Sophienburg Reflections program, the late Kola Zipp recalls a custom in her younger years (early 1920s) that had to do with New Year’s Eve. She called the practice “New Year’s Callers.” Young men would hire a carriage from the local livery stable and go out on New Year’s afternoon to visit girls. Girls would stay at home to welcome them and offer the boys wine. (That’s a switch.) These New Year’s Callers would visit and then move on to the next house.

Marie Offermann and her sister Jeanette Felger often went to dances at Echo Hall as children with their parents. There was even baby-sitting service in one of the back rooms. People brought food that was placed in the basement under the stage. New Years was a dress-up time. Look at the picture.

New Year’s Eve is celebrated around the world, often with strange customs, from throwing dishes, to wearing red underwear, to congregating in a cemetery to ring in the New Year with departed loved ones. In France the wind direction predicted the year’s crops and weather and in Spain if one could consume 12 grapes in 12 seconds from midnight, good luck would follow.

Since the invention of television and computers, millions watch the New Year’s celebration at Times Square in New York. Since its beginning in 1907, a huge 12-foot diameter ball suspended above Times Square is lowered. When it reaches the bottom of the tower, it is midnight.

No New Year’s Eve celebration would be complete without the ever-popular traditional song, “Auld Lang Syne.” Poet Robert Burns is given credit for translating the Scottish song. Here’s the last verse of Burns’ rendition:

And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere!(friend)
And gie’s a hand o’ thine!(give us your hand)
And we’ll tak a right guid-willie waught,(take a good-will draught)
For auld lang syne,(long, long ago)

Chorus:

For auld lang syne, my jo,
For auld lang syne
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

Sources: Around the Sophienburg; Sophienburg Museum and Archives Collection

Originally appeared December 2012.

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By Keva Hoffmann Boardman –

Tokology. When you read that word, what do you think of? When I came across an old book in the Sophienburg’s collections with this title I was intrigued. If you are like me, you may have thought this book was about “the study of toking” or “a how-to book on smoking pot”. Well, it turns out we would both be wrong. In Greek, tokos means childbirth. Tokology is the study of childbirth, midwifery and obstetrics. Ah!

A couple of years ago, researcher Kathleen A. Huston contacted the museum for information on 19th C. German midwives. Now you might think that particular research subject is strange for us, but it really isn’t. With our vast collections, we help many professors, students and researchers in finding peculiar, off-beat and always interesting information.

Kathleen was in luck. I had recently searched through the Neu Braunfelser Zeitung and other archival collections on midwives. It was midwives who delivered most of the babies in early Texas. There were native-born white midwives, African American “granny midwives”, Hispanic pateras and immigrant midwives from Europe. Ms. Huston had chosen to look into the midwives who were part of the influx of German-speaking immigrants of the 1840s to 1890s.

Prissy’s line in Gone With the Wind, “I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout birthin’ babies,” passed through my mind. Well, it turns out that the German immigrant women in Texas knew plenty.

Kathleen Huston concentrated on three themes in her research. The first is that the German-Texan midwives seemed to view midwifery (I love the way that words sounds!) as a true profession not as “neighbor helping neighbor”. Secondly, that midwife-assisted births were as safe and even safer than physician-attended births. And thirdly, that midwives and doctors cooperated: midwives performing most of the deliveries and doctors called in for difficult or unusual situations.

I had found in the German-language Neu Braunfelser Zeitung, that as early as 1853 (the paper began its run in 1852), two German women were marketing their midwife skills much like other contemporary businessmen. Johanne Bandelow advertised as a nurse and midwife who could be reached at the drugstore of August Forcke. County records also show that Dr. Remer had her testify to the birth and birthdates of NB citizens she had helped deliver. The second woman, Elizabeth Katterle, advertised specifically to reach her rural area around Henderson’s Settlement. This area was settled in 1850, 19 miles northwest of NB on the Guadalupe and was also called Esser’s Crossing or the Guadalupe Valley community.

The 1860 Comal County census showed that two German women, Barbara Alsens and Frederika Pendalon, actually listed their profession as “midwife”. In the following years, Mrs. Madeleine Le Fevre, Mrs. Louis Dillits Leuders, Mrs. Marie Groos Haas and Mrs. Ida Habermann Tolle promoted themselves in the newspaper as midwives. According to Ms. Huston, 65% of all midwives advertising in Texas newspapers between 1850 and 1890 were of German descent.

She speculated that one reason for the prevalence of German-born midwives may have been Germany’s strong traditions of midwifery as an acknowledged profession. By 1456, the town of Frankfurt was hiring midwives as city employees. Schools for the study of midwifery were created and funded by several German towns. Many books on obstetrics and midwifery were published in German and were authored by German women. The Tokology book (1885), was written by Dr. Alice B Stockam specifically for women to give them knowledge about issues related to childbirth and women’s health. This book became a huge success, reprinted over forty-five times with hundreds of thousands of copies sold over the years.

In “Reflections” #237, Edna Voigt gave her oral history which included stories of her grandmother, Teresa Schlather Guenther. Mrs. Guenther was a well-known midwife who assisted the births of many in Sattler, Spring Branch, Smithson’s Valley, Hancock, Fischer and Wimberley. Mrs. Voigt remembers that her grandmother was in such demand in the days of large families, that she was seldom ever at home. People would come and take her to stay with them through labor, delivery and the “lying in” period that followed. Mrs. Guenther practiced midwifery from around 1910 to 1925.

Midwifery fell out of fashion during the 1940s as hospital births were pushed as a more sterile and safe location, but these early women were an integral part of Texas history. More than just “helping out a neighbor”, they saw midwifery as a calling of immense importance. They sacrificed their own family life in order to spend long periods of time to help the new mothers around them — and they were much less expensive than a doctor. For the poor, this access to quality assistance in birthing was a God-send.

You may be a descendant of one of these remarkable women. Spurred on by Kathleen Huston, I have begun a database on Comal County midwives and their biographical information. The list, including those mentioned above, includes the following women up until the 1940s: Mrs. A. Floege (1902-1905), Mrs. Berrison (1900-1909), Mrs. Elizabeth Vecker (1917-1920) (I bet she was busy after WWI!), Mrs. Rosa Sieber (1922), Mrs. Francisca Sanchez (1920s), Mrs. Elisa Phillip (1920s) and Mrs. Josefa Sirio (1930-1940s).

Also included on the list is Mrs. Lina Chapa Delgado who was a midwife from 1931 to 1971 — forty years! Lina worked together with the county nurse and local doctors to provide trusted, skilled and conscientious care especially to the growing Hispanic community within Comal County. She assisted in over 1,600 births including four sets of twins.

If you have any information on these or other local midwives from New Braunfels’ history, please call me at the Sophienburg, 830.629-1572, or email to: museumom4@yahoo.com.

Sources: “German Midwives of Nineteenth Century Texas” by Kathleen A. Huston, 2019; Sophienburg Museum & Archives collections: Neu Braunfelser Zeitung, New Braunfels Herald, “Reflections” programs #2 and #237, Rare Books Library, Oscar Haas collections; https://medicine.iu.edu/blogs/medical-library/Historical-Book-of-the-week — Tokology

Photo Caption: Lina Chapa Delgado helping her granddaughter Michelle Ortiz listen to her heartbeat in January 1973. On the table are instruments given to Mrs. Delgado by Dr. Hylmar Karbach, Sr., a book on obstetrics from Dr. Frederick Casto and records of some of her 1,600+ deliveries. (New Braunfels Herald negative collection, Feb 1, 1973)

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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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