Texan in Action - A Profile
A Century Taps The Counter at Unique Fischer's Store
Source: Article by "M.W."; Publication, Date unknown
This is the story of Fischer's Store that sits tolerant refuge in a small community where bustling pioneers once preserved to out homesites from the new and beautiful hill country. In turn it is the saga of Herman Fischer who followed a rainbow dream from Wiesbaden-am-Rhein to Texas in 1847. and found his pot of gold in the middle of the vast and lovely wilderness. It is the story, too, of Willie Fischer, the youngest son of Herman, who has carried on for nearly half a century in the footsteps of his father.
Nearly 100 years of Central Texas day-by-day history are wrapped up in the inexorable march of time since Herman Fischer first set eyes on what he declared to be the prettiest place he'd ever seen. He has gone these many years from the haunts of mortal man. Yet, sometimes, when a midday stillness is broken by a harsh cry of a truculent crow, an indignant whirl of dust might rise and swiftly whip itself through the Store's wide doors and settle on the clean swept planks that once echoed to the endless beat of countless boots.
There are those, then, who might say it is the spirit of Herman Fischer returning once again to check on the unforgiving and relentless stride of time.
Willie Fischer, born at Fischer's Store on Oct 10, 1868, married Elfrieda Pantermuehl 56 years ago. The couple now lives in a big, rambling house a few yards from the store.
It is Willie Fischer who tells this story with a happy unconcern-a charming fusion of the new and old, of Wrigley's chewing gum and women's high top button shoes, of tapioca and Wesson oil and boys knee pants and fancy flowered-bosom skirts.
In wiesbaden, young Herman Fischer came face to face with his 18th birthday and the unhappy choice of going to work in a bank or entering military training. Neither appealed to him, and in the end he skipped both and came to Texas-which was what he wanted to do all along. He wrote an older sister that "I hope you will stand by me, as I am determined to go to Texas..."
He landed in 1849 at Indianola, a Texas port established in 1844, first called Karishaven by the German immigrants. He proceeded first to Seguin, a mecca which beckoned to most of his fellow passengers. There, shortly after, he met and married Anna Lindemann. It was in 1853 when they were returning from a visit to relatives in the Blanco section, that Herman and Anna came upon a little rolling valley, knee deep with grass, and Herman said "This is the prettiest place I have ever seen".
Soon he took 160 acres surrounding the spot. It was all the land Herman Fischer ever owned-all the land he ever wanted. "I like neighbors". He told Anna, "They will take up the land around us.
The neighbors came, and so came Fischer's Store. Herman built a small one-room log house, stocked it with goods and merchandise hauled from Indianola-a 30 day journey by ox team. That was in 1865, about the time Robert E. Lee surrendered the Confederate armies to Ulysees S. Grant at Appomattox.
At intervals, new little Fischers came to Herman and Anna. First Otto, then Emma, then Herman Jr, and finally Willie. Father Fischer closed his accounts with the Great Bookkeeper around the turn of the century and the sons carried it on.
In 1902 the Fischers built a new store 25-by-90 foot structure which is the present Fischer's Store over which white-haired Willie presides. Two years before that Willie and his brother hauled machinery from Austin to erect a gin. Willie recalls that the first year 1900. They ginned 1,201 bales, a fact that he looks upon as remarkable. The next year the gin output was 800 bales, and each year the number dropped as cotton farming gave over to the raising of horses, cattle, sheep, and goats. Although the gin still stands, it has been idle for many years. "Should have sold that tin when it was really worth something," Willie reproaches himself.
He recalls that a cattle-raising uncle used to take a $1 a head from trail driving neighbors who drove the cattle up to Kansas, returned with tales of stampedes, trail losses and low market prices-and offered another dollar a head. His uncle, Willie says "was glad to get that."
Meanwhile, the Store thrived. Four clerks were kept busy attending to the needs of customers. Long rows of shelves-shelves made by the Nelle Lumber Company at Austin-were crammed from floor to ceiling with merchandise. A friendly and flourishing candy trade existed between the Store and the 80 children attending nearby Fischer's Store school.
Today, save for a short section of grocery items at one end of the long store, the shelves are largely bare, although odds and ends of items popular 30 years ago still are on display. "Those shoes," says Willie with an engaging grin, "are not exactly new." These include the high-top button and lace up numbers desired by feminine buyers of the period. The ones left are mostly small sizes, and Willie think maybe he made a mistake when he ordered them, back before World War I. "Our women liked to go barefoot-and they just couldn't squeeze into 'em".
A few years ago burglars visited the establishment, departed with a number of articles including 25 pairs of new, modern footware-they didn't take the 1915 models-and Willies pistol. The culprits later where rounded up by Austin constabulary and Willie journeyed to the Capitol City to identify some of the loot and get his pistol back. Willie doesn't need firearms now, But there was a time when a good rifle came in handy-for coyotes, wolves, wildcats, and deer. Such as the time when Willie lay in wait at the edge of his young son's corn patch and counted seventeen deer trotting out. "Couldn't kill 'em all," Willie reasons. So he just let them go. The corn was gone anyway. There where no more coyotes or wolves around Fischer's Store, but just the other day Willie received a communication from the Wolf Club at New Braunfels notifying him that he owed a one dollar-his share of the bounty paid a man for catching a nearby district.
The Fischer family has owned a monopoly on the postmastership at Fischer's Store, Texas ever since the government recognized the need for an office there in 1875. Father Herman, of course, was the first. He served 18 years, followed by Herman Jr., 35 years, and Willie for 19. Willie might have postmaster yet, had not Uncle Sam discovered a few years ago, amid considerable confusion at Washington D.C., that he was past the retirement age. "Willie," said Uncle Sam, "You have got to retire, but before you do you can recommend somebody for the job". Willie gave considerable thought-perhaps 30 seconds-before suggesting Nephew Eddie Fischer for the job.
Five boys and six girls were born to Willie and Elfrieda Fischer. Alma, Lola, Gilbert, Paul, Rickey, Lother, Willie Jr., Elsie, Lillian, Raymond, and Anna. Anna who was a Navy nurse in Austrailia for two years, now lives in Santa Ana, California. Others, too, are scattered over the country, but mostly, like dairyman Paul, they live and near New Braunfels.
Fischer Store's liesa short distance off the main highway, halfway between San Marcos and Blanco. White-haired and white-mustached Willie Fischer will lay aside his daily newspaper, uncurl himself from a chair, and extend you a hearty welcome to his establishment; discuss with remarkable understanding the world important matters of the today.
Willie will not, however, join you in a cigar or a cigarette, "I smoked for 40 years", he tells you with a wry grin. "Until one day my wife said, "Willie, I can't stand to drink out of the dipper after you".
Willie met this new challenge with the same directness and logic used in a somewhat similar situation years before-when he faced the seventeen deer coming out of his son's ex-corn patch. "Well," he told her, "I can quit". M.W.