Everybody came to know the "holy porter," strangers as well as the regular customers. They recognized his gestures, remembered his word, basked in his smile and admired his gentle ways. He was as regular as a clock, always at the same place at the same time. When the friars assembled for midnight office they used to find Bro. Conrad already in the choir, kneeling in the last stall with his head bent a little to the side as if he were fighting off drowsiness. He slept very little. One witness recalled that his desperate need for sleep sometimes caused him to nod but he quickly shook himself awake and continued to pray. One day he appeared with a bruise on his forehead. He explained, "I was overcome with sleep in my cell and fell to the ground."

Very often at night he used to go to the crypt and pray for his departed confreres. The superiors finally forbade him to do this because they felt that he needed his rest. He transferred these prayers to whatever time he might find during the day. He had great devotion to the souls in purgatory and once admonished a novice who was negligent in this matter.

"You pray too little for the souls in purgatory. If you had prayed more for the poor souls they would have reminded you not to leave the loaves in the oven all night. We have taken a vow of poverty. We live off the alms of the people. We must not abuse them."

Since he spent so many hours of the night awake in any case, he offered to take the place of Bro. Aniano Butz, the sacristan, when the latter fell ill. It meant opening the three doors of the church at four in the morning in winter and half past three in the summer. He did this for several years. Bro. Aniano was so grateful that one day he hugged Bro. Conrad. Brother pushed him away saying, "Brother, you'll never have any sense!"

More than sentinels wait for the dawn, Bro. Conrad looked forward to the hour of communion. At half-past four in the morning he would wake the priest who was to say the five o'clock Mass in the Gnadenkapelle. He considered himself privileged to serve this Mass after having received communion, as was his custom, in the church of St. Ann. He had such a great longing for the Eucharist that his spiritual director gave him permission to receive daily. He would then serve another Mass in the Gnadenkapelle at 5:30, but on days when the entire community received communion, three times a week at 5:45, he joined his confreres.

His work day at the door began at 6:00. Sometimes he waited to finish his thanksgiving and perform other devotions. He then checked the Mass book, set out religious objects and received the alms of the faithful, even from the bashful farm children who brought gifts of bread and milk.

All they asked in return was to be remembered in his prayers. He also had to prepare the altar and set out the vestments for the conventual Mass and offer visiting priests some breakfast or give an offering to the preachers and confessors who came to help at the shrine. He took in a large number of Mass offerings, sometimes as many as 50,000 marks a year. He had to keep an exact count of them.

As groups of pilgrims began to arrive, the work piled up. The people asked for religious articles, blessed seeds and medicinal herbs. Some came for a blessing and wanted to go to confession. It was up to Bro. Conrad to call the priest. It was customary, too, to treat the pilgrims to bread and beer. One superior frowned on this practice and tried to put an end to it. The people, naturally, did not take kindly to this restriction and the poor porter had to bear the brunt of their complaints.

He always seemed to be busy, but he was never anxious or tense. He went up and down the stairs so many times a day that he might have competed in a marathon race. When the clock struck 11 the poor, the young women and children all came looking for their bowl of soup. The Brother's face beamed with joy. His happiness here on earth was helping the poor. He would go to the kitchen and say to the cook, "Lift up the lid a little so I can take out a few meatballs for the poor." Bro. Hartmann Gaisberger, the head cook, sometimes had to restrain him. When he caught him dipping his spoon into all the pots he would say jokingly, "Cover all the pots! Otherwise he will take everything." But the Brother replied, "Anything we give to the poor will be repaid generously." It was all in the best Capuchin tradition and mirrored the example of the Poverello himself.

And divine providence never let the friars down.

He held his rosary in his hand as he went about his duties. So as to have enough beer to serve his poor and the other people who came, he asked Bro. Deodat Ring, the friary brewmaster, "Make a lot of beer." He was never happier than when he had plenty of bread and beer for his poor. He was no respecter of persons. He cheerfully dished out soup, vegetables and beer, even to some who already had one or two helpings, including a priest who got into line.

Finally the bell would ring for community prayer, and then for dinner. He participated as far as he could. But if the door bell rang, he left his food on the plate and hurried from the refectory. Often he had to come back to a cold meal. After dinner he went to the kitchen and looked around to see if he could salvage anything for the poor. Or he would fetch something he had stashed away in his table drawer and put it into his pocket to give to the poor.

He got a little break from his work from 12:30 to 2:00 p.m. but he did not rest. He took a walk in the garden to ward off drowsiness and then went to pray before the altar in the Gnadenkapelle. Or he would go to the "Alexiuszelle," a little space under the stairwell from where he could see the tabernacle in the church. In the afternoon priests often came to confession , or the people to pour out their troubles. He had a place in his heart for all of them.

After school let out at four o'clock the children came running like a flock of hungry sparrows looking for some bread. They were happy to get it from their good friend, Bro. Conrad. He would tell them not to make so much noise and say, "Now you must say a prayer, because we Capuchins receive our bread as a gift from the good Lord." The children understood him. They made the sign of the cross and devoutly prayed the Our Father in front of our Lady's statue which stood near the door. When they got their bread they all shouted, "Vergelt's Gott, lieber Bruder Conrad" (Thanks, dear Bro. Conrad"), and off they were on their way home.

After some more visits he might find a chance to read a few lines from the Bible that he kept open on his desk or perhaps a page from the Imitation of Christ or some other pious book like, "Maria, meine Zuflucht und mein Trost," by Michael Sintzel or a few passages from Capuchin Fr. Martin von Cochem's "Der grosse Myrrengarten des bittern Leidens," or the "Tugendspiegel" of his confrere Father Augustine Ilg.

He never wasted a moment. "Time is precious," he would say. He used the time for prayer or for reading, for making rosaries or for working in the friary.

The evening meal was served at seven o'clock. There might still be some poor people to be fed. Perhaps they had no money and had to spend the night in some barn. After supper Bro. Conrad went back to the Alexiuszelle or walked back and forth behind the altar. At nine o'clock he locked the friary and the doors of the church. At last he could be alone with God. Sometimes, however, sleep gained the upper hand and a confrere might find him late at night still in the church. He was exhausted. What sustained him in this daily routine for 40 long years?

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