THE INSTITUTE OF TEXAN CULTURES
ORAL HISTORY PROGRAM
INTERVIEW WITH: Mr. Corwin Connell
February 17, 1988
Comfort, Texas
DATE:
PLACE:
(INTERVIEWER:) Mr & Mrs Frank Watkins
Through the kind offices of Mr and Mrs Frank Watkins of
Comfort, Texas, we have received copies of these letters,
( 2 each) written by M~ Corwin Connell.
They recall his memories as an eight to eleven year old
boy in the Comfort, Texas, o f 1938 to 1940 or '41.
Though not Oral History per se, the material could be
appealing to someone writing about the first half of the
20th century in a small German community in Texas. EGM .
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From: Corwin C. Connell
December 4, 1987
Mrs. Jimmy Krauter
Box 67
Comfort, Texas 78013
Re: "75th Anniversary of The Founding of
Comfort, Texas" medals, old Photographs, etc.
Dear Mrs. Krauter:
Pardon what will probably be frequent erasures in this
typing venture. For many years I was accustomed to leaning
back in a chair and dictating to a secretary. Now that I am
retired, I am forced to fall back on myoId high school
typing skills, which are probably pretty rusty by now.
At long last, I have recently completed an inch by inch
search of my home, and have found the "75th Anniversary"
medals, together with my arrowhead and coin collection,
which I had hidden away about fifteen years ago. I did such
a good job of hiding them, and so much time had elapsed,
that I had no idea where they were.
Under separate cover, I am forwarding them to you by
Registered Mail, to be donated to the Archives of the
Comfort Heritage Foundation or whatever organization it is
that maintains items of historical interest. There are five
medals. My recollection is that I originally had eight or
ten, but five are all that I can find at the present time.
These were together in a small box. It is possible that I
have a few more, which might have been mislaid away from the
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main group. Should I later find them, I will send them
also.
Note that one of the medals has been scorched in a
fire. The most original one of all of course, is the one
that survived the fire intact with the red, white and blue
ribbon, complete with a clasp.
As previously related, my family moved to Comfort in
November of 1938, when I was eight years old. My father was
assigned to Comfort as Pastor of the Methodist Church.
During the first year or so that we lived in Comfort, the
Clardy family lived in the house next to the road to Center
Point, just south of the Park ( which you have identified as
being the Faltin home). ( * Mr. Clardy worked for the
Telephone Company.) One day during the spring or summer of
1939, I and my two good friends, Joe and Louis Kay Clardy,
crawled underneath the house, as all small boys do when
there is a house that is susceptible to being crawled under.
There we found a cardboard box, which we drug outside. The
box and much of its contents had been badly burned in a
fire. The only items of interest in the box were
approximately 20 to 30 of these medals, some of which had
been scorched by the fire. Some of the medals had burned
fragments of ribbons attached to them. To the best of my
recollection, the only one with a complete ribbon is the one
above mentioned. We then divided the medals equally. It
has been nearly 49 years since we crawled underneath that
house, and it is now my privilege and pleasure to be able to
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return to Comfort my share of the "loot".
If the Foundation does not want all of the medals for
its archives, you and your family may have one or more of
the medals. I believe you said that your son Gregory is
very much interested in the history of Comfort.
Having examined the medals, there arises a question in
my mind, the answer to which I do not know. Three of the
medals are in perfect condition, showing no sign of having
been scorched by the fire, yet they have no ribbons. This
leads me to believe that perhaps the medals were originally
made in two different versions, some with ribbons, and some
with",ut. Perhaps some old timer in ComfElrt would know.
Also enclosed in the package with the medals, are some
photographs. The small photo that I told you about this
summer, shows Rebecca Clardy standing in front of the Faltin
home in her high scho",l graduation formal. On the reverse
side of the photo, it says "Guaranteed For Life", which is
certainly turning out to be true. The photo bears the date,
"June 1939". In July, when I dropped by your store, you
mentioned that Rebecca lives in San Antonio and comes out to
Comfort periodically. Perhaps she would like to have the
photo. How I happen to have this little photograph, I do
not know, but I am the type of person who hates to throw
anything away.
I also found two small photographs of 4th grade
students at the Comfort Grammer School taken during the
school year 1939-40. I had enlargements made of these, and
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four copies of each are also enclosed in the other mailing.
I don't know whether the Heritage Foundation would be
interested in them or not, but perhaps some of the "4th
graders" still living in Comfort, or their relatives if they
are deceased, might like to have one. In any event, I think
that it is better to send them to Comfort rather than have
them die a natural death among all of my other memorabilia.
These photographs were taken by either J.H Eargle, Jr.,
Principal of the Grammar School , or by Miss Leota Loving,
our 4th grade teacher . We used to call Mr. Eargle "Erkie"
Eargle, bu t never to his face of course. Actually, he was a
very fine man, and was well liked by all of the students.
Miss Norma Lane Price was another teacher in the grammer
school. She used to lead us in singing songs. I thought
she was the most beautiful woman in the whole world. The
students in the picture are as follows: first row, left to
right: Harry Fellbaum; LeRoy Pfeiffer; Ralph Flach. Second
row, left to right: Albert Faltin; Corwin Connell; Roy
Matter ; E.C. Burow; Billy Joe Toepfer; Allen Spenrath;
Douglas Graham, Jr. Third row, left to right; William
Marquardt (partially hidden); Walter Herbst; Emil Habecker.
Fourth row, left to right: Lottie Heinen; Vera Lopez;
Francisca Pias; Lillian Joyce Pankratz; Vada Mary Waite;
lone Ruth Wet1Ze; Betty Jean Kot t.
The o ther photograph is a noon recess scene taken
northeast o f the school building . In the foreground, left
to right : Harry Fellbaum (holding baseball bat); William
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Marquardt; Corwin Connell (tossing baseball into the air);
Ralph Flach (sitting on his red bicycle); LeRoy Pfeiffer.
In the background, on the seesaws, left to right, first
seesaw: Vera Lopez and Francisca Pias. Second seesaw: Emil
Habecker. Third seesaw: lone Ruth Wenzel and Walter Herbst.
Fourth seesaw: Vada Mary Waite and Allen Spenrath. Fifth
seesaw: Lillian Joyce Pankratz and Betty Jean Kott.
Standing directly behind Ralph Flach and almost completely
hidden from view is (I think) E.C. Burow. The identity of
the student holding down the other end of Emil Habecker's
seesaw must forever, I suppose, remain a mystery. These two
photographs were apparently taken the same day, because we
were all wearing the same clothes in both photos.
Comfort was a great place for small boys to live in
back in the 30's and 40's. One of the most exciting events
was going to the picture show on Friday nights . The
admission price for children was nine cents. Nearly every
boy and girl in town went every Fiday night, regardless of
what was showing. The girls preferred musicals and love
stories. The boys liked western adventure pictures and war
movies. Usually we got fifteen cents to take to the picture
show. The customary procedure was to stop first at the drug
store located on the corner just south of the bank. There
we loaded up on candy and bubble gum. We usually bought
three cents worth of soft candy, such as tootsie rolls and
licorice sticks, to be eaten first. Then two suckers for a
penny each , leaving one penny for a round blob of Fleers
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Dubble Bubble to finish off the evening with. We never
threw away the bubble gum after returning home. It was
deposited in a convenient place, such as the bedpost or
dresser. That way, we could chew gum and blow bubbles for
several days. They don't make bubble gum like they used
to.
After lining up anxiously at the ticket counter, all of
we kids would troop down front onto the hardwood floor,
where we sat on folding chairs. The adults sat farther back
in permanent seats. It was a real "no man's land" down
front. There was always a lot of cheering, shouting and
laughing going on, and paperwads and spitballs flew in every
direction.
One of the most exciting Friday nights occurred in
1939, when the famous technicolor adventure picture "Jesse
James", starring Tyrone Power as Jesse James, and Henry
Fonda as Frank James, came to town. The place was packed
with kids, excited and eager for the show to begin. I
remember in particular that we were kidding Jesse Matter
about having the same name as Jesse James. Before the show
started, a man who appeared to be in charge of the picture
show, ventured down front into no man's land, waved his arms
and asked for quiet. He was a slender, dignified man in his
middle fifties. I thought at the time that he was rather
elderly, but now at age 57, I realize that he was much
younger than I originally thought. He explained that the
town was having special guests tonight, that Sheriff Edge
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and his wife were coming over from Boerne to attend the
movie. Mr. Edge was the Sheriff of Kendall County, a large,
heavy set man who really looked like a western Sheriff. He
told us that he wanted us to be on our best behavior during
the show, no yelling and shouting, no paperwads and
spitballs. He said that he was certain that we, the
children of Comfort, would want to cooperate and show
Sheriff Edge and his wife how well behaved we were. This
little speech duly impressed us and we were very quiet for
awhile. However, "Jesse James" was a very exciting movie,
and as the thrilling drama began to unfold, the noise level
gradually began to increase, and by the middle of the movie,
we had forgotten all about Sheriff Edge, and bedlam once
again reigned down in no man's land.
Joe Clardy, Louis K. Clardy (we called him Louie) and
myself, used to sort o f roam around wild allover Comfort
and the surrounding countyside during the summer. We
explored up and down Cypress Creek and carved our initials
in the chalk bluffs along the north side of the creek west
of the bridge. Occasionally, we went swimming in Gaddis
Pool. There were advantages and disadvantages to swimming
in Gaddis Pool. The advantages were that it had a diving
board, and it was a secluded spot where we could swim
without the necessity of bothering with bathing suits. The
disadvantages were that the water was still and murky, and
there were a lot of turtles. We were afraid that the
turtles would bite.
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Our favorite swimming hole was at the low water bridge
over the Guadalupe River, jus t east o f town. The Guadalupe
had clear running water and the bridge was a great place t o
jump off of. A typical expedition to the low water bridge
started off in the morning. We would pack sack lunches,
jump on our bicycles and head f or the river. If we had the
necessary funds, our first stop would be at a place on the
highway east of town, known to us as the "Rathskeller". If
memory serves me correctly, this establishment was a filling
station upstairs and a beer tavern down below in a cellar.
Our purpose in stopping there was to purchase a package of
"Wings" cigarettes. Louie was always the one chosen to
carry out thi s delicate assignment, the reason being that he
was the most innocent looking one in the group. Louie would
walk in, and in his most innocent and convincing manner,
tell the man that his father wanted a pack of Wings. This
ruse always worked. Till this day I don't know whether the
man at the Rathskeller actually believed Louie, or whether
he knew what was go ing on, remembering perhaps, that he had
once been a boy himself. If he had looked out the window,
he would have observed three small boys riding off at top
speed in the direction of the river.
We almost alway purchased Wings for three reasons.
they only cost ten cents, whereas the famous name brands
such as Lucky Strike (in the green package ), Camel,
Chesterfield, Phillip Morris and Old Gold, cost thirteen
cents. Wings were king size, which meant more for the
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money, and last but not least, each package contained a
picture of a super-duper airplane, such as a P-39 Bell
Aircobra, or a P-40, which we collected. During this period
of time, Mr. Clardy bought Wings by the carton.
Occasionally, Louie would "borrow" a pack out of the carton.
However, this was a risky business, because if detected, the
consequences would have been grave. Therefore, this type of
clandestine requisition was only resorted to once in a great
while.
Upon arriving at the low water bridge, we would go way
back in the willow bushes on the east side of the river
north of the bridge, put on our bathing suits, and smoke a
cigare tte. This was a very exciting and fun thing to d o ,
because smoking cigarettes was strictly "verboten".
Whenever possible, we preferred to smoke clad only in a
bathing suit, because the smell of tobacco smoke had a
tendency to cling to our clothes. To us, tobacco cigarettes
were very mild. There was a good reason for this. We first
started smoking cedar bark rolled up in a piece of paper
torn out of the San Antonio Express. If one has never
smoked a "Cedar Bark-San Antonio Express" cigarette, then he
or she simply does not know the real meaning of
"tongue-bite".
For the rest o f the day, we would jump o ff of the
concrete railing on the north side of the bridge, let the
current carry us downstream for awhile, then swim back to
the bridge and repeat the process. Occasionally, we
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would go back in the willow bushes again and smoke another
Wing. It was not until late in the afternoon that we would
head for heme, tired and hungry. By this time we were so
exhausted that we had to push our bicycles up the steep,
winding gravel road until we reached level ground at the
east end of town.
Another exciting thing that we used to do was to hunt
birds with BB guns. We shet so many birds that if the
Sierra Club had been in existence at that time, it would
have probably sought an injunction against us in Federal
Ceurt on the ground that we were attempting to annihilate
the entire bird population of Comfort, Texas. Nearly every
boy in town had a BB gun. We purchased BBs at the
Ingenhuett Store from your father. There were two types of
BBs. A tube of shiny copper BBs cost ten cents. The softer
lead BBs cost a nickel. We preferred the harder copper BBs,
but more often than not, we had to settle for the lead
variety, due to financial constraints.
Prior to the introduction of the Daisy Red Ryder
Carbine in 1940, most of us had Daisy single shot BB guns.
The carbine was rather expensive. It cost $2.95, with no
added sales tax of course. The single shot cost only $1.00.
The technical name for these weapons was "air rifle", but we
always called them BB guns. The single shot was a reliable,
but somewhat slow weapon to operate. The generally accepted
procedure was to lift the tube of BBs to your mouth, and
partially fill it with BBs. You then placed your mouth over
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the end of the barrel, and with the aid of the tongue, spit
a BB down the ba:rrrel. When it rolled to the bottom , you
then cecked the gun and were in business, for one shot that
is. After firing, the process was repeated. Usually by that
time, you had to look for another bird to shoot at . The
name of the game was not to swallew any BBs during the heat
of battle. Since no one was werried abeut lead poisoning in
those days, we suffered ne ill effects frem an eccasional
lead BB down the gullet.
The introduction ef the Red Ryder Carbine was both good
news and bad news. It was geed news for us and bad news for
the birds. There was a hollow tube located underneath the
ba:rrrel, down which could be poured a large quantity of BBs.
The only thing necessary to be done between shots was to
cock the gun. My recollection is that Emil Habecker was the
best shot among all of the boys.
In those days there was a dance hall located roughly
northwest of the picture show. I suppose this was the
"Community Hall", which was one ef the patroOns listed in the
1940 edition of "La Yucca". The advertisement reads: "A
perfect floor. Controlled temperature. And always--the
best music". It was a real fun thing to ride down there on
our bikes in the evening. We would hang around outside and
look through the windows, watching the grown-ups dance to
the music of polkas, schottishes and waltzes. There was a
portly gentleman whe could not dance stomach to stomach, on
account of there was too much of him in front. He danced
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sideways. However, he was a marvellous dancer, very light ·
on his feet. I can see him as clearly as if it were
yesterday, tripping around the dance floor.
They sold a considerable amount CDf beer there during
the course of an evening, mostly Southern Select, Pearl and
Grand Prize. I think that Adolph Hofner and the Boys were
sponsered by Southern Select Beer. Beer was a dime a
bottle. The beer looked very pretty when it was poured into
a glass mug--amber colored, with bubbles floating upward,
and foam on top. We thought that if it tasted as good as it
looked, it might even be better than red soda pop. I once
told my mother about how good it looked. She told me that
although it might look good, it was not really fit to drink,
and that no member of the Methodist Church should drink it.
Years later when I attended Law School at Southern Methodist
University, I found out that quite a few Methodists actually
drank beer, that it was fit to drink, and that it tasted as
good as it looked. However, I never did tell my mother what
I had discovered.
"Report Card Day" in May of 1940, was the day that "The
Big Chase" occurred. Of all my boyhood adventures in
Comfort, nothing came close to equaling this event for sheer
excitement. In grammar school, when we finished taking
final exams in the latter part of May, we always had to go
back to school the next day for the purpose of picking up
our report cards. This took place at one o'clock in the
afternoon that particular year. After waiting impatiently
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for what seemed an eternity, Miss Leota Loving finally
handed out the report cards. After everyone had looked at
his or her report card, there was a lot of chatter and
comparing of grades. Befcre we could leave however, we
still had toO wait for a final signal from Miss Loving.
These were always exciting moments. The boys were poised and
ready to make the final break for three whole menths of
freedcm. The girls were much more compcsed and patient.
When Miss Lcving finally said we could goO, all cf we boys
bolted cut cf the room, down the hall, and cut the front
door, foOl lowed by the girls.
After milling around in the schoelyard for awhile,
enjoying cur new found freedom, seven cr eight of us decided
that it would be a great idea to go down to Gaddis Pool and
go swimming. Fate hcwever, decreed that we would not get
there on that particular afternoon. Fer seme reasen, none
of us were riding our bicycles that day, so we walked down
the steep gravel road south of school toward Cypress Creek.
After we left the road and were walking in a westerly
direction on the north side of the creek, we approached the
railroad bridge, which ran roughly ncrth and scuth. Scmeone
ventured the cpinion that he could "chunk" a rcck high
enough to hit the railroad trestle. This effered an
irresistible challenge to the rest of us, so we immediately
began picking up rccks and chunking them up tcward the
trestle. For boys of our size to have hit the trestle, would
have been quite a feat, but gripped as we were in the spirit
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of competition, the rocks begain arcing higher and higher,
getting ever closer and closer to the trestle.
While this frenzied activity was taking place , events
were transpiring nearby , of which we were completely
unaware. In those days of segregated schools, the public
school for black students was located somewhere south of
Cypress Creek, and apparently it was also "Report Card Day"
at their school. Suddenly, someone in our rock chunking
group sounded a cry of alarm. Looking up, we discovered ten
or fifteen children from that school strung out along the
south one-third of the railroad trestle. They were walking
single file from south to north, and were sort of
stair-stepped according to age , the elder ones in front, and
the smaller ones behind. In front were three older boys ,
perhaps sixteen or seventeen years of age. They looked like
giants to us. They were hollering down at us and shaking
their fists. Then they started running across the trestle.
We realized instantly that they thought we had been
chunking rocks at them. At the same time, we realized that
this was no time to hang around and offer explanations. No
one had to tell us this, we just figured it out all by
ourselves. It was time to execute a strategic retreat, or
as is more commonly known, it was "every man for hisself".
We dropped our rocks, turned around, and tore off at top
speed in the direction of what is now Highway 27.
Fortunately, we had a good headstart, because even grown
boys can't run very fast across a railroad trestle. Af ter
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reaching the highway, we headed north in the direction of
the park. In cur group was Billy Joe Toepfer, a very
slender, non-athletic looking b~y. Before we reached the
park, I noticed that Billy Joe had passed me as if I were
standing still, and was rapidly overtaking the frontrunners.
It was then that I realized that I had seriously misjudged
his athletic ability.
We raced through the park and headed north along 5th
St. We ran with a speed born of fear and desperation. No
Olympic runners ever ran with more dedication than we did.
without slowing down, we turned right on High St. and headed
for places of safety. Two-thirds of the way down the block,
about half of the group peeled off to the right and ran
inside of Emil Habecker's house. The rest of us ran on down
to the corner and quickly disappeared inside the Clardys'
house, where we hid out for the rest of the afernoon.
Peering out the windows, we saw the three boys who were
chasing us, continue their pursuit eastward in the direction
of downtown. Evidently we had already disappeared from view
by the time they turned right on High St. At that time, the
Clardy family was living in the frame house at the corner of
High St. and 6th St. It has a long front porch facing on
the east. For quite some time thereafer, none of us
ventured out in the direction of Cypress Creek.
I am certain that the following four boys, in addition
to myself, took part in "The Big Chase": Joe Clardy, Louis
Kay Clardy, Emil Habecker and Billy Joe Toepfer. Also, I
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think that some or all of the following were included in the
group: Roy Matter , Allen Spenrath, Albert Faltin , and
possibly Douglas Graham. In any event, I feel certain tha
whoever made that desperate run on that long ago afternoon
in May , has never forgotten it. I know I haven ' t.
I real ize that hardly anyone is interested in the
activities of little boys in Comfort , Texas nearly fifty
years ago . However , I have had these events stored away in
my memory bank for all of these years , and I feel compelled
to retrieve them at this late date , and to pass them along
anyway.
Best Regards,
/s/ Corwin C. Connell
Corwin C. Connell
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February 2, 1988
From: Corwin C. Connell
To: Mrs. Jimmy Krauter
P.O.Box 67
Comfort, Texas 78013
and
Mr. Mrs. Frank R. Watkins.
P.O. Box 459
Comfort, Texas 78013
Dear Mrs. Krauter &
Mr. & Mrs. Watkins::
1
I wish to thank both of you for your very nice letters
and kind words, and for the additional note received later
from Mrs. Krauter, enclosing copies of the clippings from
The Boerne Star and the Hill Country Recorder concerning the
very interesting and worthwhile project undertaken by the
Watkins.
I first thought of trying to respond to your letters
separately, but concluded that to do so would involve
considerable duplication. Hence this e ffort at responding
to all concerned is herewith attemped. Mrs. Krauter, I
think that your distribution of the materials i s excellent,
and I am very honored that you have submitted them in my
name. Mr. Watkins, I would be happy for you to place the
letter and photographs in the ITC archives, and I enclose
herewith the executed release form.
In my initial letter I originally intended to elaborate
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a bit on the details concerning the discovery of the
medallions in 1939 , which I had briefly described to Mrs.
Krauter and Gregory when I stopped by the Ingenhuett Store
in the summer of 1986. However, as I wrote, the flo<!>dgates
of memory opened wide and I found myself relating various
events as seen and heard through the eyes and ears of a boy
age eight through eleven, in Comfort, Texas as I knew it
almost fifty years ago. As stated, I th<!>ught that very few
people would be interested in these matters, but I sort of
fel t compelled to write them down anyway. In so doing, I
omitted other vivid memories and impressions in the interest
of trying t<!> keep the letter from becoming too lengthy. I
realize that some of those stories , and particularly the
events described in "The Big Chase", seem improbable and
far-fetched , but they are true nonetheless. Truth is indeed
stranger than fiction.
During the last week in July, I plan to swing by
Comfort on my return from a family reunion, and deliver the
deck of Flinch cards to you Mrs. Krauter, which I told you
abQut last summer. I purchased this deck of cards at "Pink"
Cedrington's Drugstore in 1941. It is in a maroon box,
together with "Impr"ved Rules for Playing Flinch, The Acme
of Parlor Games". On the bottom of the box is a stamp which
reads: "T.O. Cedrington & Son, Druggists, Comfort, Texas.
Cost-67. 5ell-75". Eight cents seems like a rather slim
margin of profit. Perhaps at that time, I will be able to
meet Mr. and Mrs . Watkins.
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You are both correct in stating that I am interested in
history. My main interest is in the history of the
Southwest. This interest in the history ef the area stems
from the time when I was a boy in Comfort and read about two
different historical events. I visited the Museum one day
and read some material concerning the story of the young men
from Comfort and surreunding areas who tragically lost their
lives in their attempt to be loyal to the Union. There was
a small library at school, and I read a book entitled Nine
Years With The Indians, by Herman Lehmann. This was the
facinating story about Herman Lehmann , who as a boy,
t ogether with his younger brother, Willie, was captured by
Apache Indians near Loyal Valley in the southeast part of
Mason County in 1870. Willie escaped a short time later,
but Herman remained with the Apache and Comanche Indians for
nine years, during which time he forget both the German and
English languages, and for all intents and purposes, became
a savage Indian. Through the persistent efforts of his
mother, he was finally located at the Fort Sill, Oklahoma
Indian Reservation in 1879, and was returned under armed
guard to his family at Loyal Valley where he was eventually
re-civ ilized. When I lived at Castell, prior to moving to
Comfort, I had seen some of the Indian artifacts which he
had made, such as a warbonnet, bow and arrow, and t omahawk,
at the ranch home of his younger sister, Mrs. Keyser, who
lived near Castell. However, I later read the book. During
the time that I lived in Comfort, Herman Lehmann's nephew,
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Judge Maurice J. Lehamnn, was the County Judge of Kendall
County.
At the grave risk of boring all of you with too many
recollections, I will relate the events and impressions
about Comfort which I left out of the previous letter, and
thFow in a bFief description of life in the Castell area
from 1936 to 1938, which was rather unique even in those
days.
In November of 1936, we moved from Eldorado in West
Texas, to the community of Castell, where my father was
assigned as Pastor of the Trinity Methodist Episcopal
Church, South. A lot of people in Texas have never heard of
Castell. It is located at the western edge of Llano County
on the south bank of the Llano RiveF, halfway between Mason
and Llano , being about eighteen miles from either place.
Oddly enough, there was another Medhodist Church near
Castell, the Methedist Episcopal Church, North. It was
Father appropriately located en the nerth bank of the Llane
River. These two branches of the Methodist Chrch came about
as a result of the civil War, and did not meFge until 1939.
The "South" church at Castell, until about 1912, was a
member of the German Methodist Conference.
Meving to Castell must have been quite a cultural shock
too my mother, who was accustomed to all of the modern
conveniences. In Castell there was no electricity. Coal
oil lamps were used at night. Cooking and heating water was
accomplished by burning mesquite wood in a wood burning
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cookstove in the kitchen. The only other source of heat in
the house was a large fireplace in the living room.
Refrigeration was obtained by purchasing a block of ice from
the Castell Grocery and placing it in the ice box. The only
concession to modern living was cold running water which
came from a gravity flow tank near the house, which meant
that we had an indoor bathroom. Since there was no
electricity, we had no radio, and the purchase of a battery
(generally pronounced "battry") powered radio was
financially out of the question. I hesitate to state
categorically that there was no telephone service at
Castell, but I am almost certain that none existed. In any
event, we did not have a telephone. This lack of modern
conveniences however, did not bother a six year old boy at
all. Castell was just a new and exciting world to roam
around in.
I attended the first and second grades in a two room
country school house. In one ream, Miss Pearl Dalehau, a
young lady who was a member of a pioneer family in the
community, presided over the first four grades. In the
other room, a man, Whose name I cannet recall, rode herd
over grades five, six and seven. Actually, there was a
third room, separated from the other two by an open-air
space, which served as a mini-auditorium for meetings and
social events. At the south end of the schoolyard, there
was a little wooden outhouse, which was for the boys , and at
the north end of the schoolyard, a duplicate facility for
the girls.
CONNELL 6
In church circles, Castell was know as a "three point
work". Church services were held every Sunday morning at
Castell, and once a month on Sunday afternoons at the
communi tes 'Of Loyal Valley and Mountain Horne. Loyal valley
is located about seven miles southwest of Castell if one
travels the old road. Mountain Horne is located about ten or
twelve miles south of Castell as I recall.
With a few exceptions, visitation o f the ranch families
in the area was not limited to an hour or two . The usual
procedure was to start out in the morning and arrive at the
ranch to be visited about ten or eleven. Such a trip
involved passing through numerous gates separating the
various pastures and ranches. There were two types of
gates, both of which were a lot of fun. At the conventional
gates, it was my job to jump out of the car and open the
gate, and then to make sure that it was securely closed and
fastened after the car had gone through. It was a cardinal
rule in ranch country to always close the gate. The other
and more sophisticated type was called a "bumper" gate. The
porocedure for going through a bumper gate was to ease up to
the right side of the gate in low gear, and then zoom
through the gate with a mighty burst of power to prevent the
gate from swinging back around in time to hit the rear
portion of the car. In our case, the "mighty burst of
power" was supplied by a 1931 Chevy.
After a short visit, dinner was served, following which
the men retired to the front porch and talked, while the
CONNELL 7
women did the dishes. About the middle of the afternoon,
the real serious business of the visit commenced, i.e.,
playing "forty-two". This continued until suppertime.
After supper, folks from neighboring ranches began arriving
until eventually there would be five or six tables of
forty-two. This continued until long after midnight. As I
lay on the floor, drifting in and out of sleep, and trying
hard to stay awake so as not to miss out on anything, there
could be heard the prevailing sounds of domino shuffling,
bidding, laughter, and the commotion of periodic switching
of players to different tables, mingled with the aroma of
fresh coffee and tobacco smoke.
An interesting incident happened in the summer of 1937,
which I have always referred to as "The Long March". One
morning my father and Lamar Leifeste, a young man in the
community, drove over to Loyal valley to do some repair work
on the church building, planning to return around noontime.
A neighbor boy and I, both age seven, decided that it would
be a great idea for us to walk toward Loyal Valley, meet
them on their way back, and ride back in the car. Since
they were due back at noon, we were able to secure the
permission of our mothers. Therefore, we started out on the
road to Loyal Valley, barefoot of course. We carried our
single shot Daisy BB guns as "protection" against
rattlesnakes and Indians. The road to Loyal Valley was not
a road in the conventional sense. It merely consisted of
two ruts worn in the ground as a result of cars traveling
CONNELL 8
along the same route over a peri"d of time.
After a couple of hours we grew thirsty and stopped at
the Buholtz Ranch for a drink of wter . For some reason,
Mrs. Buholtz seemed very surprised to see us, but graciously
invited us in. Obtaining a drink of water at a ranch house
in th0se days was somewhat different than it would be today.
One simply walked into the kitchen , took the dipper off of
the wall where it hung from a nail, dipped it int" a bucket
of water, t"ok a drink , and then hung the dipper back on
the nail for the next person to use. We continued to walk
throughout the morning , through the noon hour, and into the
afternoon , all the while keeping a sharp lookout for
rattlesnakes and Indians. Periodically we stopped at cattle
tanks to drink water. The tanks weere constructed of rocks
held together with cement. Near each tank was a windmill
which pumped water from a well into the tanks for the cattle
to drink. There is nothing like a good drink from a cattle
tank on a hot summer day. Finally, late in the afternoon,
we trudged into Loyal Valley. As we approached the church,
we could see my father and Lamar still banging away with
hammers and nails. We walked right up on them without them
seeing us. When they finally l ooked up and saw us, the
expression of surprise and disbelief on their faces was
something to behold . The casual observer might wonder why
those dumb kids didn't catch a ride with some"ne . The
answer is quite simple. No one came along going in either
direction.
CONNELL 9
When we moved to Comfort in November of 1938, I am sure
that my mother thought that she had reached the "promised
land", for here there was electricity, which meant hot
running water, a refrigerator, modern stove, and also a
telephone. I arrived in Comfort with something of a
handicap, having just completed the previous week, a series
of treatments for a severe ringworm infection of the scalp,
which had left my head as bald as a billard ball, and adding
insult to injury, my head was painted with some sort of
bright purple colored medication. In a word, I was
mortified, and did not want to start t o a new school. For
the first week I was permitted to remain at home, where I
whiled away the time by morosely kicking around an old
deflated rubber football in the front yard. The next week
however, by parental decree, I was orderd to report to
school, hair or no hair.
I felt like a condemned man being led to the gallows as
I accompained my father into Miss Burbank's third grade
classsroom. I was wearing an aviator cap. He e xplained the
situation to Miss Burbank, and I was allowed to wear the cap
inside the classroom. Naturally, this aroused intense
curiosity upon the part of my classmates. In fact, it was
like waving a red flag in front of a bull. After a few days
of the aviator cap routine, the inevitable happened. One
day at recess, one of the boys jerked the cap off of my
head, and I responded by punching him the nose, whereupon a
lively fight ensued until it was broken up by Miss Burbank.
CONNELL 10
I hurriedly retrieved the cap and jammed it back on my head.
After a month or so, my hair grew back somewhat, and life
began to look a lot brighter for me.
Miss Burbank was a slender woman who appealTed to be
about seventy years of age. She was a strict disciplinarian
and really ruled the roost in her classroom. She dressed in
the style of a by-gone era, wearing high necked, long sleeve
blouses with ruffles, and skirts that reached almost to the
floor. Fastened to her blouse was a small closed case gold
watch which she occasionally flipped open and consulted.
She was reputed to be the sister of the famous natulTalist,
Luther Burbank, and I think she lived in the big two story
house that used to be located north of the grammer school.
Miss Burbank made us memorize the mUltiplication
tables, for which I am grateful even to this day, because I
am a poor mathematician. She also introduced us to the
mysteries of long division, and later in the year, to a
puzzling concept called the square root, which was marked
with a stange symbol. I nevelT did really undelTstand this
principle, and still don't. The first three glTades were
conducted in a white flTame building just northwest of the
main building. DUlTing this school year of 1938-39, the new
high school building was being constructed, and there were
piles of rocks and other matelTials lying around.
The next fall we moved over to Miss Leota Loving's
fourth grade classroom in the southeast COlTnelT of the first
floor of the two story main building. Here we were issued
CONNELL 11
math books with a green cover, which contained confusing
"word problems" and other horrors. I spent many an evening
lying on the living room floor at home, struggling with
these word problems. I still instinctively flinch when I
see a book with a green cover.
Almost everyone in grammar school carried their lunch
to school. The main course was sandwiches. Mine were made
of store bought bread and usually contained potted meat or
vienna sausages, or peanut butter and jelly. Some of my
classmates, and especially those who lived out in the
country, brought sandwiches made from thick slices of
homemade bread which had a tart, sour taste that I like very
much. Homemade butter was spread on both slices. Together
with the sandwiches, there was homemade sausage which was
cured but not cooked. The fact that it was not cooked did
not concern us in the least, because it was delicious just
the way it was. Naturally, their lunches were a novelty to
me, and vice-versa. Therefore, frequent trades were made,
each party to which thought that he had gotten the better
end of the deal. I often traded with walter Herbst. Even
though this was during the depression years, and hardly
anyone had very much money, everyone managed to bring
something worthwile to eat. This of course was before the
politicians in Washington decided that parents really
couldn't be expected to feed their school age children.
For awhile during the spring, the south side of the
schoolyard was filled with boys of all sizes, "spinning"
CONNELL 12
tops and "shooting" marbles, while the girls retreated to
the see-saws and swings on the north side. After a couple
of weeks, when interest in these sports had waned, we went
back to the basic recess activity, playing "workup" on an
improvised baseball diamond in the open area north of the
high school. Only once did we stray away frcm our assigned
playground areas. Someone brought a football to school one
day, and since there was by then a good stand of grass
growing in front of the new high school building, a group of
us moved over there and engaged in a brief, but spirited
game of "tackle" football. Soon Mr. Bergmann, the Principal
of the High School, came out and told us that our parents
were making sacrifices to see to it that we had good clothes
to wear to school, and that we should not be tearing up our
school clothes by playing football. Somewhat chastened, we
trooped back to our own domain.
After leaving Miss Loving's fourth grade class, we
moved upstairs to a room on the northside of the building
where we came under the tutelage of the Principal himself,
J.H. Eargle, Jr. Mr. Eargle told us that the Governor of
Texas, W. Lee O'Daniel, made $5,000.00 a year, which I
thought was a fantastic sum, since my father's annual salary
was only $900.00. He also told us that President Roosevelt
received an annual salary of $25,000.00, an amount so
astronomical that I could hardly believe it, but since Mr.
Eargle said so, I concluded that it had to be true. Mr.
Eargle was the highest ranking public official in our little
CONNELL 13
world. (Two or three years later, in 1943, we were living
in Donna, Texas. It turned out that a Mrs. Siever, who
lived there, was Mr. Eargle's sister. One ti~e she invited
my parents and I to her home to visit with Mr. Eargle, who
was on leave from the Army. We were greeted at the door by
Corporal Eargle, U.S. Army, who l ooked much thinner than
when we had last seen him. I felt very sorry for him. I
thought that the Army should have at least made him a
Colonel or something. Later on, I found eut how these
things work. A decade later, I also found myself in the
U.S. Army, where I too eventually rose to the rank of
Corporal) .
We knew vaguely that there were higher ranking
officials, such as Mr. Bergmann, with whom we had the brief
encounter, and A.L .Leissner, Jr., the Superintendent, but
they lived over at the high schoel , which although only a
few yards distant, was another world. It was a place that
was inhabited by grown-up locking young women like Lillian
Stieler, Easter Kuettner, Dorothy Pankratz, Helen Ruth
Gomber, Marjorie Dryden and others, who played Eln the girls'
basketball team. It was a lso inhabited by tall, grown-up
looking Y<!lung men such as James and John Krauter (the
Krauter Twins), Elmer Seidensticker, James Haas, Lee Reeh,
Marvin Flach, Raymond Holekamp and others , who played on the
boys' basketball team. Most of us never saw these
"celebrities" up close except at the basketball games. Some
CONNELL 14
drove cars to school. One time during a hotly contested
basketball game with the girls ' team from either Kerrville
or Fredericksburg , Lilliam Stieler was knocked down on the
floor while engaged in a desperate struggle for the ball,
and injured her knee. She sat on the floor clutching her
leg for what seemed like a long time. It could be seen from
the expression on her face that she was in agony, but she
never did cry, which greatly impressed me. Finally, she
stood up, walked around a little bit, and soon went back in
the game. I thought she was very brave.
It was during the summer of 1941 that we became aware
of a celebrity of even greater magnitude than the basketball
players. This was Miss Gladys Ingenhuett, a grown-up young
lady who was already out of high school, who suddenly
appeared in the skies over Comfort flying a fire engine red
airplane, circling around and around the town. Most of us
had never seen an airplane up close , and Joe and Louis Kay
Clardy and I used to ride our bicycles out to a field
northeast of town to watch her land and take off. We
thought that she led the most glamorous and exciting life
that anyone could possibly lead. To say that some of the
conservativve citizens of Comfort were somewhat less
enthusiastic about her flying activities, would be an
understatement.
Later that summer they started paving the street in
front of our house. This project attracted boys on bicycles
CONNELL 15
like honey attracts flies. We experimented with chewing
soft tar, and after the workmen left at the end of each day,
we rode around and around on the fresh asphalt . My mother
remarked, only half jokingly, that we would probably be
moving in the fall because whenever improvements were made
in a town, we were usually transferred some there else.
Her prophecy proved to be true because on a cold,
drizzly day , the first Friday in November, 1941, we stopped
at the Sinclair filling station north of the picture show to
fill up with gas on our way out of town. At the station
that morning was Mr. Robert Herbst. He shook hands with all
three of us and wished us good luck , following which we
headed south in the direction of Hebbronville, deep in the
heart of the South Texas brush country, another world,
another culture. Thus it was that I left the beautiful
Texas Hill Country forever, but in a sense I never really
left at all.
Best Regards,
/s/ Corwin C. Connell
Corwin C. Connel