Vogt's Clothing
by Becky Vogt Minster
The Vogt family were early settlers to Boerne and their influence is still evident, in part from the name carved in stone above the bakery door. Joe Vogt was a younger brother of my great-grandfather. Many of the family were businessmen. They may not have their names remaining on a store front, but they too were important to the life of Boerne.
August and Pauline (Pfeiffer) Vogt, my great-grandparents had eight children and opened a hotel in the late 1880's. My grandparents, Eddie and Georgia (Bitterman) Vogt, owned a general store located on the west side of Main Street, on the southern most part of the group of buildings to the south of the Plaza. Unfortunately, Grandpa Vogt died of a heart attack at the early age of 42, leaving my "GaGa" to take over the business, as well as tend to their four children. Frances, "Tan", already 18, helped with the many responsibilities, John Edward (my father), now the man of the house, was 13, and the twins, Fred and Mary Pauline "Molly", were only 8. The stress of all the responsibilities was too much for my pampered grandmother, resulting in her own heart problems, so the store was closed. Luckily Grandpa had stashed a considerable amount of money away in shoe boxes on the shelves and buried next to the vacant house behind the store, and this, along with the rent of the building, sustained the family.
After Daddy graduated from Boerne High (much to the relief of many teachers) and served a brief (much to the relief of his sergeant) term with the army, he had hopes of going to Law School. But there wasn't money for such dreams, so in 1947 he reopened the family store. It was a simple dry-goods store, selling the basics: work clothes, boots and shoes, fabric, pots and pans along with a few toiletries and toys.
This was not the challenge Daddy had hoped for in his life, but from the front windows it allowed him to watch the new young teacher, Nelda Collins, as she walked in her brisk, self-confident style to school each morning. They married in December 1951 after a brief courtship and remain dedicated these 57 years later.
It was from those same store front windows that my
Vogt's Store 1954 brother, three sisters and I saw the city life of Boerne. Our home was in the country, just north of town. Neighbors could barely be seen, and having friends over to play with was a rare occasion, after all there were already five of us, plenty for any kind of a game. But with five kids underfoot, ever patient Mama could always use relief so we kids were able to take turns "helping" at the store. Sometimes we would go in with Daddy at 7:30 in the morning to help open, other times we would just wait for him to come home for lunch then go in until the 6:00 pm closing. We liked the latter best for several reasons, the first being that if we asked Mama before lunch then we could use the crank phone, telling the operator "119W, please", to call and get Daddy's permission (I think it served more as a warning).
A dry-goods store in a small town isn't the most exciting place. When we would go to the store in the morning, the main chore was sweeping the sidewalk with the thick handled, heavy, straw broom. That was usually no big deal, unless it was cricket season. I don't remember when or why, but Boerne would occasionally get overtaken with black crickets. Like the Biblical swarms of locusts, Main Street would be covered with these black critters, crunching under the car tires as you drove, crunching under foot as you walked. There was no way to avoid the masses of them. Plus, there was the horrid smell of them as they rotted everywhere.
Afternoon store duty was the best. Before closing we got to throw oily sawdust all over the floor and then run up and down the aisles with the wide dustmop sweeping up the sawdust and all the dirt that adhered to it. At 6:00, or as soon as the last customer finished her purchases and sharing the news, we would walk across Main Street to "Max's Place", but we called it "Udo's" because it was owned by Udo Harz. It was the skinniest place, maybe 10-12 feet wide, but so intriguing. Being located between two other buildings, the only natural light came from the small store-front window, resulting in it being very dim. I don't remember any other light fixtures, although there must have been some. The inside was filled by the large oak bar with its brass foot-rail, and the huge wall mirror behind in which you could see yourself if you could stand on the foot-rail without tipping over backwards. There was also a red Coke chest full of nickel sodas, a couple of small two-chair tables with oilcloth coverings, beer advertisements with Mexican bullfight scenes and flamenco dancers, seemingly hundreds of deer antlers, a golden eagle, and the Moose Head, giant, looming overhead, his eyes watching no matter where you went.
As special as it was to work at the store in the afternoons and get to go to Udo's afterward, there was a dilemma.....do you get a Coke or a nickel's worth of rock candy? We never had Cokes at home, only Koolaid, water or milk, and Daddy sold candy in the store, but not rock candy. To this eight year old it was like nuggets of gold. The decision was always a painful one to make.
Other memorable times at the store were Parade Day. Saturday morning of Labor Day weekend, then as now, saw throngs of people coming to town for the Fair, lining Main Street to watch the parade. Our aunts, uncles and cousins would meet at the store, along with all sorts of friends and acquaintances. I especially remember the deaf couple, Emil and Ellenora Beutnagel. They would stand on the sidewalk in the shade of the overhang with their daughter and little granddaughter, Lucille and Debbie Holman, 4 sets of fingers flying in conversation. It seemed magical that they could communicate in that way. We kids would sit on the curb with the morning sun shining in our eyes, waiting to wave to the beautiful Kendall County Queen, Princess and Duchess wearing strapless gowns as they sat on the top of the backseat of a shiny convertible or high on the roof of a fancy Cadillac with their flouncey skirts spread across the front windshield. We would clap for the graceful horses with riders in fancy cowboy duds, and clamor after the candy throwing clowns. We all got at least 2 or three pieces!
Christmas brought a special touch to the store's front window. In the mid-1950's Daddy bought a life-size electric Santa, splendid in his red velvet suit, shiny black belt and boots, the works. He would stand in the window, bending at the waist with a HO-HO-HO three point stop before straightening up. We weren't Joske's, but this was an exciting site for a small town.
In 1978, the store called it quits after 69 years of service, first as "Eddie Vogt's", next as "John E. Vogt's" and finally "Vogt's Clothing". Bill's Dollar Store and Winn's had moved into town taking much of the business Daddy relied on. Through the store, two generations of Vogts had provided adequately for their families, but more importantly had served the community well, providing necessities, credit to those in times of need, and a gathering place for country folks coming to town to get supplies, catch up on the latest news, and enjoy the parade.
