Has Jefferson City forgotten one of its most eminent musicians?
Franz Josef Zeisberg, organist, violinist, pianist, composer, and teacher, was born in 1862 in the Sudeten mountains of Prussian Silesia, now part of Poland. Raised on a farm by musical parents, the teenager emigrated to Jefferson City in 1881 (he was only eighteen!) and first worked as a manual laborer in a brickyard where he learned English.
He began his musical career in Jefferson City in 1884 by opening the City Conservatory in the Conrath House on Madison Street in partnership with immigrant Carl Preyer. Zeisberg was organist at the Central German Evangelical Church (now Central United Church of Christ).
In 1887 he married Clara Hugershoff, stepdaughter of Fred H. Binder (who had been elected mayor in 1884). That marriage allowed Zeisberg entrance into the highest levels of Jefferson City society, because of Binder’s prominence in civic affairs. Zeisberg’s career took off.
I wish I could find a photo of Zeisberg. Here, at least, is his physical description at age forty-four, according to his 1906 American passport:
Stature: 5 feet, 11½ inches. Forehead: High. Eyes: Blue. Nose: Prominent. Mouth: Average. Chin: Sharp. Hair: Dark blonde. Complexion: Fair. Face: Average. Thin, full beard.
Zeisberg went to Lexington, Missouri, to teach at the Elizabeth Aull Seminary for women, then to Chicago, where his musical talents became more widely known and appreciated. With a solid reputation in the musical world, in 1892 he began a thirty-year career as conservatory director at Martha Washington College in Abingdon, Virginia.
He retired at age sixty in 1922 for health reasons, and the Zeisbergs returned to Jefferson City, leaving their three grown children in good professions on the East Coast. He retained a home in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, to which he returned annually in summers until the 1940s.
In Jefferson City, the professor and Clara moved into the substantial Fred Binder house at 210 East Dunklin, unoccupied after Papa Fred Binder’s death in 1911 and Mrs. Binder’s death in 1920. The Zeisbergs continued to live there in the Southside until their deaths.
The Binder property included the southeast corner of Dunklin and Madison, catercorner from Busch’s Florist. While the Zeisbergs lived there, it was a wooded tract with a small creek running through it before going out of sight into a long tunnel under the street intersection.
This is how the corner looked around 1951. Madison Street is in the foreground; Dunklin is in the distance. The view is almost true east.
Here is the same view, as of September 2, 2012:
Professor Zeisberg gave organ concerts at the Southside’s Central Evangelical Church, where the Zeisbergs were members, and other local churches, always to full and appreciative attendances. He was the first in Jefferson City to broadcast organ music over the new WOS radio station, directly from Central Church’s organ.
He taught students in piano, organ, and violin. His best-known student, by far, was Carl E. Burkel, who received his first organ lessons as a preteen on Central Church’s large Möller pipe organ. Burkel is well remembered in Jefferson City for his forty-one years of teaching music at Jefferson City High School and directing the Jefferson City Symphony and Capitol Caroling at Christmas. Carl later told me about sitting as a boy on the church organ bench with “that old German” teaching him the intricacies of a multiregister organ.
I was one of Professor Zeisberg’s piano students from age nine to eleven. The nineteenth-century Binder house was spacious and had a big, airy sunroom with windows on three sides overlooking the corner woods and little creek.
Mrs. Zeisberg filled the sunroom to overflowing with pots of ferns and other large plants, making it a tropical paradise just as luxurious as Busch’s greenhouses across the corner.
Professor Zeisberg gave his lessons at an upright piano in an adjacent room, and as I sat on the piano bench I could see the great abundance of Mrs. Zeisberg’s ferns and the woods beyond. I imagined I was playing a piano in a park!
You can see the sunroom in this sketch that my wife, Pat, made of the Binder house in 1950 while an art student in high school.
Professor Zeisberg emphasized German music, especially Beethoven sonatas. When I got reasonably proficient in one, the professor uncased his violin and played the melody with embellishments along with me on the piano.
At times he would lean over me to get close to the music to read it, and the backs of his hands showed the huge, bulging veins of an active eighty-two-year old man. When I made a mistake, he rapped my hands gently with his violin bow and slipped into German to say “Es ist nicht so, Walter!” (That isn’t right, Walter!) In 1944 he gave me a manuscript copy of one of his compositions for children, titled “Kris Kringle,” composed in 1922.
Professor Zeisberg promenaded daily throughout the Southside. He was tall, bearded, and very much the proud German professor. He wore an old-fashioned black suit and top hat, which made him look like Abraham Lincoln. Though in his eighties, he walked very erect in long strides, tapping his black cane as he went briskly along.
Professor Francis Joseph Zeisberg died in 1951 at age eighty-nine. Clara, his wife for fifty-nine years, had died five years earlier. They were buried in the large Binder plot in Riverview Cemetery.
The Zeisbergs’ unmarried daughter Elsa had returned to Jefferson City to care for them when they were aging. She continued to live in the house in the woods at 210 East Dunklin until 1958 (she died 1985), when the property was sold to the Milo H. Walz family, which saw an opportunity to develop the corner commercially.
Here is another view of that corner. This time the view is almost true north, toward the intersection of Madison and Dunklin. The brick building at the left is the Madison side of the Wel-Com-In. The horizontal white structure to its right are the greenhouses for Busch’s Florist. The upright storefront for Busch’s is to the right of that.
Here is the same view as of September 2, 2012:
The beautiful, sturdy Binder/Zeisberg house is now encased within a modern commercial building at 210 E. Dunklin, with its nineteenth-century brick chimneys projecting bizarrely above a flat, modern roofline. Here are some views of the building.
. . . And the shady woods has been totally cut down. The pretty little creek now runs underground as a drainage sewer.
That corner of Madison and Dunklin became the Bolten Southside Conoco and most recently is Doug’s Blvd. Motors. Fred Binder’s well-preserved 1800s black surrey (with a fringe on top!), which was still housed in a carriage house on the property when it was sold in 1958, was given to the Missouri State Museum in the Capitol, where it was on exhibit for many years. Most recently it has been displayed at the museum at Lohhman’s Landing, but as of Labor Day weekend 2012, that museum is closed for renovations and the surrey will be placed into storage indefinitely.
Professor Zeisberg’s legacy endures not only in the huge number of students he taught in Jefferson City and Virginia, but also in his enormous volume of compositions. He began publishing in the 1890s with the Theodore Presser Company of Philadelphia. He composed numerous children’s songs for both piano and violin, transcriptions of well-known American melodies like Stephen Foster’s “Old Black Joe,” and other, longer works.
He composed secular and church music for male and mixed choruses. Central United Church of Christ still uses some of the anthems and choral responses he composed or arranged for it more than eighty years ago. Most impressively, he composed two full-length masses and at least eighty-five—yes, eighty-five!—fugues for the organ.
His immense trove of compositions, some published and others in manuscript, was given to his star student, Carl Burkel. A few of the organ fugues are in the music library of Central Church.
Special thanks to Albert Case for sharing his personal memories of Professor Zeisberg. Mr. Case drove the “Dutchy” professor to his summer home in Virginia in the Zeisberg touring auto. Thanks also to Shirley Klein, organist at Central United Church of Christ, for sharing the manuscript copies of Zeisberg’s fugues. Thanks also to the late Don Walz for his photographs of the Binder woods. The photo of Carl Burkel is from Carl’s collection and was made by Bob Elliott; it is used with permission. And thanks to my wife for sharing her schoolgirl artistic talents. I cannot find a photo of the Binder house!
Copyright 2012 by Walter A. Schroeder.
Showing posts with label German tradition. Show all posts
Showing posts with label German tradition. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Fastnacht: German Mardi Gras
We know about Mardi Gras (Fat Tuesday), but who knows about Fastnacht? The Germans also celebrate Fat Tuesday, the day before Ash Wednesday, which marks the beginning of the fasting period of Lent. The Germans call that Tuesday Fastnacht, literally “the night before fasting.”

In Germany Fastnacht has evolved into Karneval, or Fasching, and it’s a big party like Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Karneval in Germany can be weeks long, lasting from Epiphany to Fastnacht. Fastnacht has lost its religious significance for many Germans and has become another secular party like Oktoberfest, when folks can go a little crazy, wear masks, march in parades, and mock politicians. Big cities like Cologne and Munich have huge festivals.
But Germans who immigrated to Missouri in the nineteenth century retained the religious significance of that special Tuesday, while still having fun. And they have not turned it into a carnival.
Fastnacht was a day to use up all the cooking fats in the house, because fats were forbidden to be consumed during the forty days of fasting during Lent. How to use up the fat? Well, they fried doughnuts in kettles of hot fat. These pastries were called by names like mützen and, not surprisingly, fastnachts. The doughnuts came out of the hot grease and were sprinkled with sugar. Since people couldn’t eat them after Tuesday, they feasted on them before midnight until they were all gone. Some families made them several days earlier so they could have time to finish them off.

Another way to get rid of the fat was to eat up all the sausage on Fastnacht. In Hermann, Missouri, the tradition was to ride around on horseback to farms to collect sausages. Then everyone gathered at one place to cook it and eat it in one big community “sausage festival,” or wurstfest.

For many decades, the Hermann and Rhineland area has had a dancing group called the Wurstjaegers (“sausage hunters”) whose name reflects this tradition. They perform annually at Hermann's Wurstfest and at Jefferson City’s Oktoberfest in Munichburg.

In Jefferson City the German immigrants and families got together on Fastnacht evening and had parties with singing and dancing ending abruptly at midnight. The next morning all the fun and indulgence was over. The next morning, Ash Wednesday, the fasting, self-denial, and penance of Lent began and lasted for a long, sober, forty days until Easter Sunday. Come Ash Wednesday, the party was over! People went to church services on Ash Wednesday morning. Priests put ashes on the foreheads of Catholics; many still observe this ritual.
Today there are no public Fastnacht celebrations in Jefferson City. However, the Columbia United Church of Christ in Columbia, which has German roots in its founding, will hold its 28th annual Fastnacht celebration on February 21, to which the public is invited.
They serve a traditional Fastnacht dinner of brats and sauerkraut ending with a handful of the traditional Fastnacht doughnuts made from a century-old recipe from Pennsylvania Dutch (German) country. Plenty of dancing and singing to a German band will enliven your spirits.

WHEN:
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
5:30 to 8:00 pm
WHERE:
Knights of Columbus Hall
2525 N. Stadium Blvd.
Columbia, Mo.
(This location on Stadium Blvd. is north of I-70.)
TICKETS:
In advance: $8 adults; $4 children 6-12; $20 family.
(Call 573-445-7931 for advance tickets.)
At the door: $10 adults; $5 children 6-12.
Copyright 2012 by Walter A. Schroeder.

In Germany Fastnacht has evolved into Karneval, or Fasching, and it’s a big party like Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Karneval in Germany can be weeks long, lasting from Epiphany to Fastnacht. Fastnacht has lost its religious significance for many Germans and has become another secular party like Oktoberfest, when folks can go a little crazy, wear masks, march in parades, and mock politicians. Big cities like Cologne and Munich have huge festivals.
But Germans who immigrated to Missouri in the nineteenth century retained the religious significance of that special Tuesday, while still having fun. And they have not turned it into a carnival.
Fastnacht was a day to use up all the cooking fats in the house, because fats were forbidden to be consumed during the forty days of fasting during Lent. How to use up the fat? Well, they fried doughnuts in kettles of hot fat. These pastries were called by names like mützen and, not surprisingly, fastnachts. The doughnuts came out of the hot grease and were sprinkled with sugar. Since people couldn’t eat them after Tuesday, they feasted on them before midnight until they were all gone. Some families made them several days earlier so they could have time to finish them off.

Another way to get rid of the fat was to eat up all the sausage on Fastnacht. In Hermann, Missouri, the tradition was to ride around on horseback to farms to collect sausages. Then everyone gathered at one place to cook it and eat it in one big community “sausage festival,” or wurstfest.

For many decades, the Hermann and Rhineland area has had a dancing group called the Wurstjaegers (“sausage hunters”) whose name reflects this tradition. They perform annually at Hermann's Wurstfest and at Jefferson City’s Oktoberfest in Munichburg.

In Jefferson City the German immigrants and families got together on Fastnacht evening and had parties with singing and dancing ending abruptly at midnight. The next morning all the fun and indulgence was over. The next morning, Ash Wednesday, the fasting, self-denial, and penance of Lent began and lasted for a long, sober, forty days until Easter Sunday. Come Ash Wednesday, the party was over! People went to church services on Ash Wednesday morning. Priests put ashes on the foreheads of Catholics; many still observe this ritual.
Today there are no public Fastnacht celebrations in Jefferson City. However, the Columbia United Church of Christ in Columbia, which has German roots in its founding, will hold its 28th annual Fastnacht celebration on February 21, to which the public is invited.
They serve a traditional Fastnacht dinner of brats and sauerkraut ending with a handful of the traditional Fastnacht doughnuts made from a century-old recipe from Pennsylvania Dutch (German) country. Plenty of dancing and singing to a German band will enliven your spirits.

WHEN:
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
5:30 to 8:00 pm
WHERE:
Knights of Columbus Hall
2525 N. Stadium Blvd.
Columbia, Mo.
(This location on Stadium Blvd. is north of I-70.)
TICKETS:
In advance: $8 adults; $4 children 6-12; $20 family.
(Call 573-445-7931 for advance tickets.)
At the door: $10 adults; $5 children 6-12.
Copyright 2012 by Walter A. Schroeder.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
A “Jeff City Julius”?
When Groundhog Day rolls around on February 2, everyone hears about Punxsutawney Phil in Pennsylvania, the most famous groundhog of all. But do you know that our custom of using a groundhog to predict the next six weeks of weather came from Germany?
The earliest record of groundhog weather predicting on February 2 is in the 1840s in the quiet German Amish communities of Pennsylvania, but certainly those quiet, reclusive folks were doing it decades before that.
So how did the use of groundhogs to predict weather begin?
February 2 is the feast of Candlemas. It is the halfway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. That is, it is halfway between the beginning and end of winter. On that day in old Germany candles were blessed and put in windows. They symbolized bringing light into a world awakening from deep winter dormancy. Hedgehogs began to arouse from their hideaways at this time of year and folks, who were always looking for signs in nature, turned to them to see what they would do when emerging. In Germany, Candlemas (an English term) is called Maria Lichtmess, which means “Mass for Mary’s Light.” The German folk saying went:
Germans who came to Pennsylvania before the Revolution brought this folk custom with them, except that America had no hedgehogs, so groundhogs (woodchucks) replaced them.
The custom remained a local folk practice (superstition?) until—you guessed it!—media and tourists found out about it during a slow time of the year. You know the rest of the story. Punxsutawney Phil got promoted the most to become a national celebrity, but similar events occur throughout Pennsylvania, Ohio, and other places where Germans settled. Some towns know how to make a fast buck from media attention!
Our German ancestors here in Jefferson City certainly brought this custom with them. I’ve heard about a few who used to light candles on February 2, and absolutely everyone knows about groundhogs and their ability to predict the next six weeks of weather.
But no local effort has ever been made to create our own “Jeff City Julius” to rival Punxsutawney Phil. (Julius is a traditional German name.)
How about it? Can we have—with the help of media—our own cute little fat and furry weather predictor on February 2 to bring attention to our wonderful city?
Copyright 2012 by Walter A. Schroeder.
The earliest record of groundhog weather predicting on February 2 is in the 1840s in the quiet German Amish communities of Pennsylvania, but certainly those quiet, reclusive folks were doing it decades before that.
So how did the use of groundhogs to predict weather begin?
February 2 is the feast of Candlemas. It is the halfway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. That is, it is halfway between the beginning and end of winter. On that day in old Germany candles were blessed and put in windows. They symbolized bringing light into a world awakening from deep winter dormancy. Hedgehogs began to arouse from their hideaways at this time of year and folks, who were always looking for signs in nature, turned to them to see what they would do when emerging. In Germany, Candlemas (an English term) is called Maria Lichtmess, which means “Mass for Mary’s Light.” The German folk saying went:
Wenn’s an Lichtmess stürmt und schneit,
ist der Frühling nicht mehr weit;
Ist es aber klar und hell,
kommt der Lenz wohl nicht so schnell.
(If on Candlemas it storms and snows
then spring is not far away
But if it’s clear and bright,
then spring won’t come so quickly.)
Germans who came to Pennsylvania before the Revolution brought this folk custom with them, except that America had no hedgehogs, so groundhogs (woodchucks) replaced them.
The custom remained a local folk practice (superstition?) until—you guessed it!—media and tourists found out about it during a slow time of the year. You know the rest of the story. Punxsutawney Phil got promoted the most to become a national celebrity, but similar events occur throughout Pennsylvania, Ohio, and other places where Germans settled. Some towns know how to make a fast buck from media attention!
Our German ancestors here in Jefferson City certainly brought this custom with them. I’ve heard about a few who used to light candles on February 2, and absolutely everyone knows about groundhogs and their ability to predict the next six weeks of weather.
But no local effort has ever been made to create our own “Jeff City Julius” to rival Punxsutawney Phil. (Julius is a traditional German name.)
How about it? Can we have—with the help of media—our own cute little fat and furry weather predictor on February 2 to bring attention to our wonderful city?
Copyright 2012 by Walter A. Schroeder.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Some New Year’s Eve Traditions
What did you do on New Year’s Eve? Do you have any traditions for celebrating the end of the year? German immigrants to Munichburg called New Year’s Eve “Silvester Night.” That name, Silvesterabend, is used in the church records of the German churches in Jefferson City, because folks went to church that night and collections were recorded as taken on Silvesterabend.
The German families in Jefferson City traditionally ate some kind of seafood on Silvester Night, or the next day, New Year’s Day, so they would have money in their pockets in the new year.
Herring seemed to be preferred when I was a kid, but oysters were common around 1900. Some churches, like Central United Church of Christ, had “oyster suppers.” Believe it or not, there was even an “oyster and ice cream supper,” and the church ladies were divided into four different committees to procure the food for it: oysters, cream, eggs, and lard (apparently for frying the oysters).
A centuries-old custom in Germany on Silvester Night was to melt a little bit of lead in a spoon over a candle (lead has a low melting point), then let it drop into a glass of cold water. It instantly cooled into all sorts of weird shapes. The oldest one in the family then interpreted the shapes and told the person’s future for the coming year, somewhat like reading tea leaves or reading palms.
I have not found any record of dropping molten lead into water on Silvester Night in Jefferson City, but there are some local folks who know that German tradition very well, probably from family stories handed down.
This tradition is called in German Bleigiessen (BLY-ghee-sen), or “lead pouring.” Within the last decade Bleigiessen has come back in Germany as a kind of fun game for Silvester Night parties, with the fortune-teller dressed like a gypsy.
Shall we get together next year and try it?
-----------------------------------------
Addendum: I recently found out that, to reduce toxic and environmentally hazardous waste, and to reduce consumption of a limited mineral resource, the German government has for some time prohibited the manufacture of lead for Silvesterabend, so Germans have been importing lead for that purpose from China. Now the German government has banned the sale of China-imported lead, so the Germans will have no supply of lead for Silvesterabend. It will be a dying tradition in Germany.
But perhaps the Germans will become inventive. Some Civil War reenactors, bent on total authenticity, can’t find lead to make authentic musket balls, so they salvage the lead weights used to balance car wheels and melt them down. But then again, balancing car tires will soon no doubt be done with other materials, too. It’s for the best.
Copyright 2012 by Walter A. Schroeder.
----------------------------
This year, we hope you’ll join the Old Munichburg Association. Membership dues help fund all sorts of good projects aimed at improving our neighborhood.
The German families in Jefferson City traditionally ate some kind of seafood on Silvester Night, or the next day, New Year’s Day, so they would have money in their pockets in the new year.
Herring seemed to be preferred when I was a kid, but oysters were common around 1900. Some churches, like Central United Church of Christ, had “oyster suppers.” Believe it or not, there was even an “oyster and ice cream supper,” and the church ladies were divided into four different committees to procure the food for it: oysters, cream, eggs, and lard (apparently for frying the oysters).A centuries-old custom in Germany on Silvester Night was to melt a little bit of lead in a spoon over a candle (lead has a low melting point), then let it drop into a glass of cold water. It instantly cooled into all sorts of weird shapes. The oldest one in the family then interpreted the shapes and told the person’s future for the coming year, somewhat like reading tea leaves or reading palms.
I have not found any record of dropping molten lead into water on Silvester Night in Jefferson City, but there are some local folks who know that German tradition very well, probably from family stories handed down.
This tradition is called in German Bleigiessen (BLY-ghee-sen), or “lead pouring.” Within the last decade Bleigiessen has come back in Germany as a kind of fun game for Silvester Night parties, with the fortune-teller dressed like a gypsy.
Shall we get together next year and try it?
-----------------------------------------
Addendum: I recently found out that, to reduce toxic and environmentally hazardous waste, and to reduce consumption of a limited mineral resource, the German government has for some time prohibited the manufacture of lead for Silvesterabend, so Germans have been importing lead for that purpose from China. Now the German government has banned the sale of China-imported lead, so the Germans will have no supply of lead for Silvesterabend. It will be a dying tradition in Germany.
But perhaps the Germans will become inventive. Some Civil War reenactors, bent on total authenticity, can’t find lead to make authentic musket balls, so they salvage the lead weights used to balance car wheels and melt them down. But then again, balancing car tires will soon no doubt be done with other materials, too. It’s for the best.
Copyright 2012 by Walter A. Schroeder.
----------------------------
This year, we hope you’ll join the Old Munichburg Association. Membership dues help fund all sorts of good projects aimed at improving our neighborhood.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
German Christmas in Jefferson City One Hundred Years Ago
The German immigrants to Jefferson City brought their Christmas traditions with them, chief of which was the Christmas tree. As early as 1871, just a few years after the Civil War officially ended, the local newspapers reported that the various German organizations, like the Germania Club, Turners, and singing societies, held Christmas parties in their halls with Christmas trees, singing, and dancing. For Christmas 1871, the just opened public school at Monroe and Miller, which had strong German leadership, held a Christmas party with gifts and singing. It was reported that 1,200 persons, including 600 children, attended after standing in line for hours to get in. It may have been the first public appearance of a Christmas tree in Jefferson City, because Christmas trees were not yet popular on the American scene at this time.
German traditions were always part of the Christmas observances in all four German churches in Jefferson City: St. Peter Catholic; Trinity Lutheran, then at Monroe and McCarty; Central Evangelical (now Central United Church of Christ); and the German Methodist Church on the corner of Broadway and Elm. The latter two are in Munichburg. These churches had Christmas services on three separate days: Christmas Eve especially for children, Christmas morning, and on the day after Christmas, called Zweite Weihnachten or “Second Christmas.”
In December 1891 the Evangelical women held a Christmas supper and bazaar in their new church, just finished the month before. According to the newspaper, the supper cost 25 cents, and the women sold numerous items suitable for Christmas gifts. In 1906, when many homes in Jefferson City were still without electricity, Central Evangelical Church had a Christmas tree with electric lights that dazzled everyone. Candles had been on their annual Christmas trees since the beginning, and the congregation was happy to get rid of them because of the fire danger, let alone the trouble of lighting and extinguishing them all. There were no commercial Christmas tree lots then, and members of the four German congregations provided cut cedars from their farms.
At Trinity Lutheran, the Christmas Eve service was devoted to the children. Children of the Lutheran parochial school filed into church for the impressive Christmas Eve service, where they sang in German and one by one recited memorized Bible verses to tell the Christmas story. Afterwards, they were treated with small, brown paper sacks of hard candy. Then they went back to their homes to open gifts, which had been mysteriously placed under the Christmas tree while they were in church.
In the smaller German Methodist Church, the Sunday School children sang traditional German Christmas songs like Kling, Glockchen, Kling-a-ling-a-ling (Ring, little bells, ring-a-ling-a-ling). The young children, dressed all in white like the Christkind (Christ Child), stood in front of the congregation on Christmas Eve and rang little bells while they sang. In German tradition, ringing bells announced the arrival of the Christ Child in our midst.
Later, the children were given hard candy in little containers made to look like Santa Claus. (One of these is still displayed today at Christmas in that same church building, now a residence, along with a 120-year-old German Weihnachtspyramide, a revolving Christmas pyramid tree, also a German tradition.)
Christmas became commercialized in Jefferson City by 1900, according to the great explosion of newspaper ads for Christmas gifts. High Street merchants put Santa Claus in their December ads and announced the best prices for clothing and candy for Christmas gifts. But there were very, very few ads for toys!
Businesses in German Munichburg also went commercial for Christmas in the beginning years of the 1900s. The big Moerschel Brewery on Dunklin suggested giving a case of Muenchener beer for Christmas, which you could pick up at the brewery or have delivered to your residence by horse-drawn wagon, at no charge. Busch’s Florist began advertising cut Christmas trees for those who did not want to go out into the country and cut their own.
Grocery stores, saloons, even barbershops gave out free turkeys to attract business. In 1912 the newspaper reported the Southside pool hall at 704 Jefferson Street gave away 35 fresh turkeys on one December Wednesday alone. Can you imagine that? Were they alive? Fresh killed? There were no frozen turkeys in those days. And on a weekday, in a pool hall?
What may have been Jefferson City’s first community Christmas tree was described in the December 14, 1915, newspaper. The carpenters’ union built a 50 x 50 foot platform for a community Christmas tree 30 feet high (that’s three stories high!) on the courthouse lawn. What held it up? Did it have electric lights and decorations? Did the mayor give a speech?
German Christmas traditions flourished in individual homes. The Germans had small, tabletop cedar Christmas trees in their homes well before they became common in the general population. The candles were mounted in small metal candleholders that were secured to the branches with small clips. They were lit only on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, because the candles didn’t last very long and people celebrated Christmas as only a one-day event. (It didn’t begin the day after Thanksgiving!) The tree was decorated with red paper bells, papier-mâché birds, fruit, nuts, pinecones, and other symbols of nature. Delicate, blown-glass ornaments imported from Germany became available about the same time that electric lights came into homes, around 1890–1910.

Reformer Martin Luther was successful in convincing Germans to shift the date for Christmas gift-giving from December 6, the Catholic feast day of St. Nicholas, to December 25, the accepted date of Christ’s birth. But German families in Jefferson City continued to use December 6 as Kriss Kringle night, when St. Nicholas’s helper visited houses to see if the boys and girls were being good or bad. I can personally vouch that one year I got a lump of coal in my shoes that I set at my bedroom door on December 6. That was a serious sign to shape up before Christmas.

Some families gave presents around the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve, in keeping with the visit of Luther’s Christ Child to the family. Others, perhaps influenced by Clement Moore’s popular poem, “A Visit from Saint Nicholas,” in which Santa Claus came down a chimney during the night, waited until Christmas morning to open presents.
The traditional Christmas dinner in Germany centered around a Christmas goose, but immigrants to Jefferson City quickly replaced it with the abundant American turkey. Traditional German stollen (candied fruit and nut bread) and cookies still highlight many Munichburg and Jefferson City Christmases today.

Cookies include lepkuchen, a honey or molasses cookie, which is made from different recipes according to what part of Germany the family came from; springerli, the square, anise-flavored cookie with a delicate pattern imprinted on it; and pfeffernuesse, or pepper nuts, a spicy cookie that may have black pepper in it.

Frohe Weihnachten! Merry Christmas!
Copyright 2011 by Walter A. Schroeder.
---------------------------------------
Best wishes for 2012! Make a resolution this year to help the efforts of the Old Munichburg Association, or to get involved with your own local community, wherever you are! We bid you peace.
German traditions were always part of the Christmas observances in all four German churches in Jefferson City: St. Peter Catholic; Trinity Lutheran, then at Monroe and McCarty; Central Evangelical (now Central United Church of Christ); and the German Methodist Church on the corner of Broadway and Elm. The latter two are in Munichburg. These churches had Christmas services on three separate days: Christmas Eve especially for children, Christmas morning, and on the day after Christmas, called Zweite Weihnachten or “Second Christmas.”
In December 1891 the Evangelical women held a Christmas supper and bazaar in their new church, just finished the month before. According to the newspaper, the supper cost 25 cents, and the women sold numerous items suitable for Christmas gifts. In 1906, when many homes in Jefferson City were still without electricity, Central Evangelical Church had a Christmas tree with electric lights that dazzled everyone. Candles had been on their annual Christmas trees since the beginning, and the congregation was happy to get rid of them because of the fire danger, let alone the trouble of lighting and extinguishing them all. There were no commercial Christmas tree lots then, and members of the four German congregations provided cut cedars from their farms.
At Trinity Lutheran, the Christmas Eve service was devoted to the children. Children of the Lutheran parochial school filed into church for the impressive Christmas Eve service, where they sang in German and one by one recited memorized Bible verses to tell the Christmas story. Afterwards, they were treated with small, brown paper sacks of hard candy. Then they went back to their homes to open gifts, which had been mysteriously placed under the Christmas tree while they were in church.
In the smaller German Methodist Church, the Sunday School children sang traditional German Christmas songs like Kling, Glockchen, Kling-a-ling-a-ling (Ring, little bells, ring-a-ling-a-ling). The young children, dressed all in white like the Christkind (Christ Child), stood in front of the congregation on Christmas Eve and rang little bells while they sang. In German tradition, ringing bells announced the arrival of the Christ Child in our midst.
Later, the children were given hard candy in little containers made to look like Santa Claus. (One of these is still displayed today at Christmas in that same church building, now a residence, along with a 120-year-old German Weihnachtspyramide, a revolving Christmas pyramid tree, also a German tradition.)Christmas became commercialized in Jefferson City by 1900, according to the great explosion of newspaper ads for Christmas gifts. High Street merchants put Santa Claus in their December ads and announced the best prices for clothing and candy for Christmas gifts. But there were very, very few ads for toys!
Businesses in German Munichburg also went commercial for Christmas in the beginning years of the 1900s. The big Moerschel Brewery on Dunklin suggested giving a case of Muenchener beer for Christmas, which you could pick up at the brewery or have delivered to your residence by horse-drawn wagon, at no charge. Busch’s Florist began advertising cut Christmas trees for those who did not want to go out into the country and cut their own.
Grocery stores, saloons, even barbershops gave out free turkeys to attract business. In 1912 the newspaper reported the Southside pool hall at 704 Jefferson Street gave away 35 fresh turkeys on one December Wednesday alone. Can you imagine that? Were they alive? Fresh killed? There were no frozen turkeys in those days. And on a weekday, in a pool hall?
What may have been Jefferson City’s first community Christmas tree was described in the December 14, 1915, newspaper. The carpenters’ union built a 50 x 50 foot platform for a community Christmas tree 30 feet high (that’s three stories high!) on the courthouse lawn. What held it up? Did it have electric lights and decorations? Did the mayor give a speech?
German Christmas traditions flourished in individual homes. The Germans had small, tabletop cedar Christmas trees in their homes well before they became common in the general population. The candles were mounted in small metal candleholders that were secured to the branches with small clips. They were lit only on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, because the candles didn’t last very long and people celebrated Christmas as only a one-day event. (It didn’t begin the day after Thanksgiving!) The tree was decorated with red paper bells, papier-mâché birds, fruit, nuts, pinecones, and other symbols of nature. Delicate, blown-glass ornaments imported from Germany became available about the same time that electric lights came into homes, around 1890–1910.

Reformer Martin Luther was successful in convincing Germans to shift the date for Christmas gift-giving from December 6, the Catholic feast day of St. Nicholas, to December 25, the accepted date of Christ’s birth. But German families in Jefferson City continued to use December 6 as Kriss Kringle night, when St. Nicholas’s helper visited houses to see if the boys and girls were being good or bad. I can personally vouch that one year I got a lump of coal in my shoes that I set at my bedroom door on December 6. That was a serious sign to shape up before Christmas.

Some families gave presents around the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve, in keeping with the visit of Luther’s Christ Child to the family. Others, perhaps influenced by Clement Moore’s popular poem, “A Visit from Saint Nicholas,” in which Santa Claus came down a chimney during the night, waited until Christmas morning to open presents.
The traditional Christmas dinner in Germany centered around a Christmas goose, but immigrants to Jefferson City quickly replaced it with the abundant American turkey. Traditional German stollen (candied fruit and nut bread) and cookies still highlight many Munichburg and Jefferson City Christmases today.

Cookies include lepkuchen, a honey or molasses cookie, which is made from different recipes according to what part of Germany the family came from; springerli, the square, anise-flavored cookie with a delicate pattern imprinted on it; and pfeffernuesse, or pepper nuts, a spicy cookie that may have black pepper in it.
Frohe Weihnachten! Merry Christmas!
Copyright 2011 by Walter A. Schroeder.
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Best wishes for 2012! Make a resolution this year to help the efforts of the Old Munichburg Association, or to get involved with your own local community, wherever you are! We bid you peace.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Grandpa’s Friend Herr Goldammer
When the German Methodist Church at Broadway and Elm closed in 1917, my Grandpa Albert Thomas, who lived next door, bought the vacant building without knowing what he was going to do with it. In the 1920s he rented it to his good friend and fellow German immigrant Fred W. Goldammer, who used it for a carpenter and general repair shop. Mr. Goldammer and family lived in a house on Swift’s Highway near where Helias High School now stands.
Grandpa and Mr. Goldammer (I always heard him called Herr Goldammer) were close friends. They both came to Jefferson City about the same time, attended the same church, and were about the same age. I imagine Grandpa, a carpenter himself, spent many hours with him in the carpenter shop talking and woodworking.
After Grandpa converted the church building into our residence and both he and Herr Goldammer had retired, they continued to visit each other. When Grandpa went to visit him on Swift’s Highway, he sometimes took me along. One of those trips was a summer morning in 1940, when I was six years old.
Our route was to walk south to the dead end of Broadway, the 1000 block, which was the entrance to the Evangelical Cemetery (since removed). It is the place where Highway 54 now passes over Broadway. At the end of Broadway we opened a gate in a fence and hiked across Affolter’s cow pasture. Affolter’s pasture since has become the Panorama Subdivision with Linden, Holly, and Laurel drives. We walked diagonally up the long hill to Swift’s Highway, across where Pamela and Darlene Streets now are.
As we walked through the pasture, we met many cows. Grandpa taught me how to greet cows in German. We went right up to a cow and looked her in the eye. Grandpa told me to greet her by saying, “Wie geht’s, Frau Kuh?” (How are you, Mrs. Cow?) As I greeted Mrs. Cow with those words, Grandpa told me I should also tip my hat, which was the German way to greet someone. He showed me how to touch the bill of my cap with my thumb and forefinger and lift it slightly off my head. We greeted several Mrs. Cows while walking through the pasture, so I got good practice in greeting Mrs. Cows.

Behind the Villa Panorama mansion on Swifts Highway was Botz’s chicken hatchery, which smelled badly, so we avoided it by reaching Swifts Highway well east of Villa Panorama, and then walked along the sidewalk to Herr Goldammer’s house.
Grandpa and Herr Goldammer sat on straight-back kitchen chairs on the open back porch that was built around a cistern, and I sat on the thick concrete slab capping the cistern. The two old men smoked their pipes and spoke in German, but I couldn’t understand a thing they said. Frau Goldammer came out of the house and brought me a piece of apple pie on a saucer with a shiny fork and a glass of milk.
As I was sitting there eating, something happened that a six-year-old can never forget. Herr Goldammer bent over from his chair and placed a neatly folded white handkerchief on the concrete cover of the cistern right next to me. Then I looked up at Herr Goldammer just as he put his right thumb in the corner of his left eye and popped out his big glass eyeball. He bent over again and carefully laid it on the white handkerchief next to me, all the time continuing to talk.
I was afraid to look up at Herr Goldammer to see what he looked like without an eye in the socket. But his big glass eyeball just lay there next to me, staring up at me while I ate the pie. I couldn’t take my eyes off it! That motionless eyeball staring at me I can never forget, even seventy years later.
When it was time to go, Grandpa and Herr Goldammer bid each other “Auf Wiedersehen!” and we retraced our path through the pasture and again greeted several Mrs. Cows in the German way. We picked blackberries to take home, where I told Mom all about our expedition and Herr Goldammer’s glass eyeball.
Copyright 2011 by Walter A. Schroeder.
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Join the Old Munichburg Association, where you will find many other people with roots in Jefferson City’s historic German-settled district.
Grandpa and Mr. Goldammer (I always heard him called Herr Goldammer) were close friends. They both came to Jefferson City about the same time, attended the same church, and were about the same age. I imagine Grandpa, a carpenter himself, spent many hours with him in the carpenter shop talking and woodworking.
After Grandpa converted the church building into our residence and both he and Herr Goldammer had retired, they continued to visit each other. When Grandpa went to visit him on Swift’s Highway, he sometimes took me along. One of those trips was a summer morning in 1940, when I was six years old.
Our route was to walk south to the dead end of Broadway, the 1000 block, which was the entrance to the Evangelical Cemetery (since removed). It is the place where Highway 54 now passes over Broadway. At the end of Broadway we opened a gate in a fence and hiked across Affolter’s cow pasture. Affolter’s pasture since has become the Panorama Subdivision with Linden, Holly, and Laurel drives. We walked diagonally up the long hill to Swift’s Highway, across where Pamela and Darlene Streets now are.
As we walked through the pasture, we met many cows. Grandpa taught me how to greet cows in German. We went right up to a cow and looked her in the eye. Grandpa told me to greet her by saying, “Wie geht’s, Frau Kuh?” (How are you, Mrs. Cow?) As I greeted Mrs. Cow with those words, Grandpa told me I should also tip my hat, which was the German way to greet someone. He showed me how to touch the bill of my cap with my thumb and forefinger and lift it slightly off my head. We greeted several Mrs. Cows while walking through the pasture, so I got good practice in greeting Mrs. Cows.

Behind the Villa Panorama mansion on Swifts Highway was Botz’s chicken hatchery, which smelled badly, so we avoided it by reaching Swifts Highway well east of Villa Panorama, and then walked along the sidewalk to Herr Goldammer’s house.
Grandpa and Herr Goldammer sat on straight-back kitchen chairs on the open back porch that was built around a cistern, and I sat on the thick concrete slab capping the cistern. The two old men smoked their pipes and spoke in German, but I couldn’t understand a thing they said. Frau Goldammer came out of the house and brought me a piece of apple pie on a saucer with a shiny fork and a glass of milk.
As I was sitting there eating, something happened that a six-year-old can never forget. Herr Goldammer bent over from his chair and placed a neatly folded white handkerchief on the concrete cover of the cistern right next to me. Then I looked up at Herr Goldammer just as he put his right thumb in the corner of his left eye and popped out his big glass eyeball. He bent over again and carefully laid it on the white handkerchief next to me, all the time continuing to talk.
I was afraid to look up at Herr Goldammer to see what he looked like without an eye in the socket. But his big glass eyeball just lay there next to me, staring up at me while I ate the pie. I couldn’t take my eyes off it! That motionless eyeball staring at me I can never forget, even seventy years later.
When it was time to go, Grandpa and Herr Goldammer bid each other “Auf Wiedersehen!” and we retraced our path through the pasture and again greeted several Mrs. Cows in the German way. We picked blackberries to take home, where I told Mom all about our expedition and Herr Goldammer’s glass eyeball.
Copyright 2011 by Walter A. Schroeder.
-----------------------------------
Join the Old Munichburg Association, where you will find many other people with roots in Jefferson City’s historic German-settled district.
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