The Great Philadelphia Confligration

There is a parking lot at 713 Chestnut Street in Philadelphia at an address which has been the home of two grand Masonic temples as well as the home of the Grand Lodge of Pennsylvania.  The second of those buildings was built from the shell of the first after it burned and eventually served as storefronts and a location for civic events.

Legendary architect William Strickland designed the first building, an ornate structure with a marble and stone exterior and a distinctive three-story steeple-shaped tower rising from its center.  Construction began in 1809 and took two years  when it became the home of the Grand Lodge of Pennsylvania as well as serving as a Masonic Lodge.

A magnificent building for its time, the Philadelphia Masonic Hall was one of that city's landmarks until March 9, 1819.  On that evening, as Washington Lodge 59 was meeting there, a chimney fire swept through the building, completely destroying it.  No one was hurt, and Lodge members saved some property by carrying it out of the building, but much was lost as the fire erupted into what was described as "a great conflagration."  Reports say the inferno became so intense it was visible in New Castle, Delaware, 32 miles away.  A letter from Rebecca Gratz, a well-known 38-year old Philadelphia socialite who lived next door, describes the incident in detail.  In it, she makes it clear the building might have been saved but for the fact that the volunteer firemen who came to fight the fire were drunk!  As the evening progressed and it became clear the Masonic Hall was lost and Ms. Gratz' house was safe, the event became almost festive as Ms. Gratz added fuel to the fire — pun intended — by serving alcoholic beverages to the fire fighters.

David Rice Atchison: President of the United States for One Day

Riding along the winding backroads of northwest Missouri, about a half-hour form my home, I sometimes stop at an old cemetery just outside Plattsburg. Right inside the entrance is a series of arrows pointing to a specific grave. That grave has a compelling brass marker which proclaims the man buried there was "President of the United States for one day ~ Mar. 4, 1849." After stopping at the cemetery I sometimes roll into Plattsburg where the townsfolk have erected a towering statue to the man, also proclaiming his presidency. On occasion, I've even gone on up the road, across the Missouri river and visited "The World's Smallest Presidential Library," which was built in his honor. The library is located in Atchison, Kansas, which was named after the man, David Rice Atchison.

Senator David Rice Atchison, a member of Platte Lodge #56 in Missouri, was President pro tempore of the United States Senate when Zachary Taylor was elected president. Inauguration day in 1849 fell on a Sunday and the devout Taylor refused to attend his swearing in on the sabbath, rescheduling it for the following day. Taylor's Vice President, Millard Fillmore, followed suit and James K. Polk's term had expired the previous day, technically leaving the presidency vacant. Constitutionally, Atchison was next in line for the office.

Hearing this quirky bit of news, Atchison's friend, Judge Willie Magnum, and a group of others descended on Atchison's house and tramped up to his bedroom in the middle of the night. There, with the confused Atchison in his nightgown, Judge Magnum administered the oath of office. Brother Atchison went back to sleep and spent the bulk of his "presidency" resting and reading in his home. He later said this about his auspicious day:

"It was in this way; Polk went out of office on the third of March 1849, on Saturday at twelve noon. The next day, the fourth, occurring on Sunday, General Taylor was not inaugurated. He was not inaugurated until Monday the fifth, at twelve noon. It was then canvassed among senators whether there was an interregnum (which means a time during which a country lacks a government). It was plain that there was either an interregnum or I was the President of the United States, being chairman of the Senate, having succeeded Judge Magnum of North Carolina. The judge waked me up at three o'clock in the morning and said jocularly that I was President of the United States and he wanted me to appoint him as Secretary of State. I made no pretense to the office, but if I was entitled in it I had one boast to make, that not a woman or child shed a tear on account of my removing anyone from office during my incumbency of the place."

Historians almost universally agree that Atchison was not officially the president. It is also true, however, that neither the outgoing president James K. Polk, nor Taylor were president on March 4. Duly inaugurated, who better than Brother Atchison to fill the gap? If you're not willing to agree that he was at least ex-officio President, just don't mention it around Atchison, Kansas or Plattsburg, Missouri.

John "Blackjack" Pershing — An Outlandish Urban Legend

For the past several years an outlandish urban legend has circulated on the Internet regarding Pershing's handling of the Islamic Moro population during the early 20th century war in the Philippines.

 

There is more than one version of the legend, but the gist of the story, completely untrue, claims Pershing rounded up 50 Muslim terrorists, executed 49 of them with bullets soaked in pigs' blood, had them buried in a mass grave and covered the bodies with pig entrails, barring them by an erroneous perception of Islamic law from entry into heaven.  The yarn goes on to claim Pershing released the 50th terrorist so he could pass the word about what happens to scoundrels who mess with the United States.

While Pershing indeed had skirmishes with the Moros while he was in the Philippines, there is no evidence he ever had anyone executed.  To the contrary he said many times he wanted to avoid any Moro casualties. 

When asked about this tale, Dr. Frank E. Vandiver, professor of history at Texas A&M University and author of Black Jack: The Life and Times of John J. Pershing, said, "I never found any indication that it was true in extensive research on his Moro experiences.  This kind of thing would have run completely against his character."

In addition, according to the American Muslim Association in North America, "The notion that a Muslim would be denied entrance to heaven for touching a pig is ridiculous."

Legitimate historians today agree this story is nothing more than a wild legend possibly originating or gaining momentum in the aftermath of the attacks on September 11, 2001.

Pershing was certainly a strict disciplinarian, but he was neither impulsive nor cruel.  As a whole, the Moros revered him and voluntarily bestowed their highest honors upon him.  Pershing, by his actions, showed he respected the Moro population and, when asked about his mission in the Philippines said, "I am here to wage peace."

Scottie Pippen and the Illuminati