WHERE WE LIVE: NEW HAMBURG

St. Lawrence church member Charles Heuring has been selling plots at the church's cemetery for about five years now. At the age of 80 Heuring has been a resident of New Hamburg since 1926.

The Rev. James Seyer, "Father Jim," shares priestly duties at St. Lawerence Catholic Church with the Rev. Normad Veron. Here he says the Eucharistic prayer before offering communion at a Saturday afternoon Mass.

Joe P. Heisserer settled down in New Hamburg during 1952 and at the age of 83, the former farm machinery repair man says he has no plans of moving. "From here, I go to the grave yard. No more movin."

Almost every road in New Hamburg leads to a hard-working farmer. Over the years, several people have wanted to move to New Hamburg, and although the land is plentiful, it's hard to come by. Very few people sell.

Marty Steimle comes around his brother's grocery store every once in a while to help him make the pork sausage. Kern's Grocery still offers food on credit and delivers groceries to the town's elder residents.

Locals share a drink and a game of cards on a slow Saturday afternoon at Schindler's Tavern, New Hamburg's only watering hole. The tavern, a favorite gathering spot for all ages is known best for its bologna burgers, cold beer and home-town atmosphere.

Albert "Felix" Enderle spends the afternoon moving straw, preparing his barn for a cow about to give birth during a mid-March snow. Felix bought his home in 1962.

David Westrich comforts his daughter, Jessica, after she took a spill on the gravel driveway. Born and raised in New Hamburg, David says he wouldn't leave for anything.

There's no mayor, town council, chamber of commerce or local police force. Nobody gives speeches using the word "infrastructure." In fact, unless you count sermons at St. Lawrence or the occasional brew-induced oration at Schindler's Tavern, speeches are pretty rare in New Hamburg.

And, frankly, nobody seems to mind.

"Never lose a chance at saying a kind word." The sign greets drivers entering the village. It's the kind of simple, feel-good philosophy that might earn a sneer in more urban areas. But it reminds commuters from this small town why they choose to call New Hamburg home.

Downtown takes up less than a block. The church, the school, the tavern and the grocery are within a stone's throw of each other. Pecan trees lend shade and forsythia bushes add color to the unassuming street at the heart of New Hamburg.

At the center of the community is St. Lawrence Catholic Church, the steeple of which soars over the other buildings. The parish was formed more than a century and a half ago by German-Catholic farmers who built what is now the oldest church and schoolhouse left in Missouri.

The original 1847 log church still stands next to the larger stone structure where Mass is celebrated today.

Many in the congregation the descendants of those German farmers, including the Essners and Enderles, Heurings and Dirnbergers still work the land.

Shared faith is one the strongest ties binding this community, and in a nomadic country filled with movie theaters, restaurants and malls, the St. Lawrence parish hall is still the center of New Hamburg activity. And it's always busy. It serves as a gymnasium for Kelso students across the street and is packed every year by the annual church variety show.

Dave and Laura Westrich live across the street from the St. Lawrence cemetery and walk to church each week. Dave grew up in New Hamburg while Laura is from nearby Chaffee.

"This is a real quiet, calm community," Laura said. "I feel safe here." And here is where they plan to raise their children: Jessica, 4, and Eric, 3. Dave says he can't imagine living anywhere else and Laura says she'd never move anyway.

They know all their neighbors, and in fact, are related to many of them. Next door is Dave's grandmother, and sisters and cousins also live nearby.

The Westrich's, like most people in town, get their meat at Kern's Grocery.

The store serves as the town's grocery, quick stop, gas station, meat market and hardware store. In addition to the best pork steak in eight counties, you can buy everything from a trailer hitch to a birthday card, a bag of onions to a bag of nails.

Near the meat counter are bags of dumplings and noodles for sale, homemade by the store owner's mother.

Now in his mid-60s, Bill Kern grew up in New Hamburg and raised four sons and two daughters here. All still live close by, though they work out of town.

Kern bought the store 30 years ago and has seen its role in the community change dramatically with the advent of two-income families and the popularity of eating out.

No longer does his bread and butter come from the stay-at-home moms needing bread and butter to stock their kitchen pantries. Instead, the store keeps afloat by selling large orders of meat to organizations like the Knights of Columbus and American Legion.

Still, some practices survive. The store still sells groceries on credit to regular customers and delivers to those who need it.

Across the street is Schindler's Tavern, which has been in place for more than 100 years and is as essential to the community as the church or grocery store.

Owner Brenda Schwepker can't decide if the tavern is more famous for its bologna burger or the annual Kowpasture Klassic hosted each year to benefit the "Make a Wish" foundation.

A glance at the tavern guestbook reveals visitors from London and Australia and all over the U. S. complementing both the burger and the quirky golf-like tournament.

In 1967 the New Hamburg Schindler's, a fast-pitch softball team, swept the state championship series with six straight wins. Many say that team put New Hamburg and Schindler's Tavern on the map.

But mostly, the tavern is not famous. Like the parish hall and the grocery, it belongs to New Hamburg. It's a place where Aurelia "Rella" Roberts, can play euchre each Thursday with other seniors; where Dolly Kluesner, director of the church variety show, can send her son for a quick snack; or where the Essner boys can grab a cold one and watch the game.

A church, a grocery and a tavern. That's the bulk of downtown New Hamburg.

And, frankly, nobody seems to mind.