I got an amusing mix of responses when I told friends and family I was visiting Muenster, which sits about 15 miles south of the Red River, 65 miles north of Fort Worth, and 5,000 miles west of its namesake, in Germany. “I thought Muenster was a cheese.” “Is that where Eddie Munster lives?” And my favorite: “That’s near Rednecks With Paychecks!” from an enthusiastic cousin. (RWP, I would soon learn, is a biannual off-roading festival held outside the neighboring hamlet of Saint Jo.) This tiny town of about 1,600 may not be on every Texan’s radar, but it’s a hidden gem for those in the know. And there are a lot of them: Metroplexers looking for a weekend escape; oenophiles eager to sample North Texas wine; connoisseurs of boisterous festivals known for beers and brats; and, apparently, folks who like to spend their hard-earned money careering around in vehicles made for “mud crawling” and “rock bouncing.”
When we think about our state’s German enclaves, which many of us do during Oktoberfest, we often picture towns such as Comfort, Fredericksburg, and New Braunfels, which are located in the swath of south Central Texas known as the German Belt. But though most of our mid-nineteenth-century German immigrants did settle in that area, there are pockets of strong Teutonic heritage scattered about the northern part of the state. Muenster (the “Muen-” rhymes with “sun”) was founded in much the same fashion as its counterparts to the south, by opportunity-seeking immigrants who secured a promising spot and set about naming it after a beloved place they’d left behind. In this case, it was the Flusche brothers—Anton, August, and Emil—each of stern visage and copious facial hair, who arrived in the area in the late 1880s, having first established communities in Iowa and Kansas.
Acting on behalf of “German Catholic farmers who sought suitable locations to rear their families in their faith,” as a Mrs. Abby Cooper wrote in the Wichita Falls Times in 1957, the brothers acquired 22,000 acres of pastureland in the Red River watershed. They sold most of it off for around $10 an acre to adventurous Midwesterners, who found a warm Willkommen in the milder climate, fertile soil, and fellow believers—even if a succession of violent storms tore up the town’s first two churches (at one, the congregation reportedly sat on planks supported by beer kegs). Muenster was officially established in 1889, and today most of the population is descended from early settlers.
It’s easy to see why the undulating landscape of what modern-day boosters like to call the North Texas Hill Country would have appealed to the Flusches, perhaps reminding them of their German home of Attendorn, about sixty miles east of Cologne, in the Westphalia region. (Muenster was named for Münster, the cultural center of Westphalia.) It’s also easy to imagine that if they were to see it now, they’d feel at home, recognizing the grassy prairies and shade-seeking cattle, if not the pump jacks and wind turbines.
This is still farming and ranching country, but Muenster’s diminutive downtown serves as the heart of what the chamber of commerce touts as “Texas hospitality with a German flair.” Most visitors come from Dallas and Fort Worth, drawn to the pastoral scenery, leisurely pace, and friendly people. Those who wander from farther afield are usually coming for Oktoberfest (which this year will be held the weekend of October 4) and, for the past 48 years, the even bigger Germanfest, in April. Alas, the future of the spring festival is up in the air, thanks to a disagreement between the chamber of commerce and the local Jaycees chapter over how to distribute proceeds from the sale of the one thing that should always bring Germans together: beer.
But Muenster’s two and a half square miles of charm attracts visitors year-round. Old cottage-style houses branch off Main Street, which is home to, among other things, a handful of stores, a library, a museum, and the Sacred Heart Catholic Church and School. Shoppers flock to spots such as the Bird Nest, a delight for gardeners and wildlife lovers, and Fresh Fellas Furnishings, a smartly curated collection of home decor. Enthusiasts of vintage goods can lose a whole day at Main Street Mercantile (the collection of beer steins is magnificent) and the Muenster Antique Mall, seven thousand square feet of treasures owned by Harold and Jeannine Flusche. At Gehrig Hardware (and fishing, camping, and everything else) store, glass-and-wood cabinets from what was originally the town’s shoe and harness shop boast labels such as “beer making caps” and “pecan gatherers.”
Should you work up an appetite shopping, Muenster has a handful of options—Rohmer’s for schnitzel and chicken-fried steak, Doc’s for wings and burgers, Rico’s for Tex-Mex—but I’d recommend building the picnic of your dreams at family-owned Fischer’s Meat Market, in a Bavarian-style building whose sign features a little fella in lederhosen holding a ring of sausage. Opened in 1927, it offers row after row of made-on-site spice mixes, relishes, and jams; a whole bunch of cheeses; and cured meats that range from your standard knockwurst to “taco flavor hot links.”
About the only thing Muenster lacks is a biergarten. An attempt was made about four years ago to turn the old Muenster Cheese Factory into a brewery; it didn’t work out, which might have been a blessing. The business plan envisioned a mixed-use development that also included—mein Gott—
“artisan lofts.”
What Muenster (and its surrounding communities of Saint Jo and Montague) does have is wine. In fact, this region was home to the so-called Grape Man of Texas, T. V. Munson, whose research on phylloxera-resistant rootstocks in nearby Denison helped save the European wine industry in the mid-1800s.
With north-facing hills and sandy soil, the lauded Texoma American Viticultural Area is suitable for varietals such as cabernet franc, chardonnay, and grenache. And you can sample these at four wineries within twenty miles of downtown Muenster: Arché, in a modern glass-and-steel building with a patio overlooking rows of grapevines; Blue Ostrich, where your tasting can include a visit with the three namesake birds on the property; 4R Ranch, with its spectacular views of the Red River Valley; and Lonesome Vine, a husband-and-wife operation with a holistic approach to grape growing and a tasting room that evokes an Old West saloon.
Recover from all that sightseeing and wine sampling at the Schillinghaus Bed & Breakfast, just off Muenster’s Main Street. The Bavarian chalet–style inn offers comfortable, well-appointed suites with full kitchens. Another option is Elm Creek Manor, about five miles northeast of downtown, a fifteen-acre retreat featuring goats, chickens, and rabbits; a vegetable garden and inviting pool; and rustic rooms inspired by the owners’ European travels.
Don’t leave Muenster without stopping by its museum. The white clapboard building houses a repository of esoteric objects that tell the story of the immigrants who dared to make a life so far from home, from a rusty antisuckling device called a calf weaner, “found in a load of fill sand taken from the Red River in 1980,” to a Chandler & Price printing press displayed with the laminated front page of the November 27, 1936, edition of the Muenster Enterprise (“First Section of Pavement Open to Public”). Filling in any gaps are devoted docents, many of them descendants of those immigrants, who, with the satisfaction of knowing exactly where they come from, will invite you to sit down at a table covered in dominoes and tell you all about it.
Just Minutes From Muenster
Why you should go to Saint Jo.
About nine miles west of town, Saint Jo, which makes Muenster look like a metropolis, was established in 1849. It was originally called Head of Elm, after its proximity to the headwaters of the Elm Fork of the Trinity River. According to local lore, the town was renamed in 1873 for surveyor Joseph Anderson Howell by his fellow surveyor Captain Irby Holt Boggess, who added the “Saint” because “Jo” was a teetotaler.
Do + See
Carve out some time to visit the Stonewall Saloon. Built in 1873 to minister to cattle drivers traveling the Chisholm Trail, it now serves as a museum staffed by friendly volunteers eager to show you around. Also of note on the town’s picturesque square are the International Artillery Museum, which claims to be the largest privately owned collection of artillery in the U.S., and the Davis & Blevins Gallery, a repository of fine Western art.
Dine + Drink
Step through the persnickety screen door to Windmill Grill, walk the
scuffed wood floors to the L-shaped bar, and order a griddled cheeseburger (perfectly crispy at the edges) and a beer or a glass of wine from nearby Lonesome Vine.
Stay
Spend the night at All Is Well Resort, a small collection of yurts and “bubble huts” on 63 acres of oak-and-cedar wilderness complete with a trail to nearby spring-fed creeks. Just look out for the enormous spiderwebs and their equally large occupants.
This article originally appeared in the September 2024 issue of Texas Monthly with the headline “Muenster, Inc.” Subscribe today.
