Absolute Power

Power corrupts. Absolute power, they say, corrupts absolutely. We in Freemasonry, however, elect men to whom we then hand absolute… well, nearly absolute power. Apparently, that's the way we like it.

Not long ago I had dinner with a Brother who was indignant at the fact a Grand Master had expelled an officer out of the Grand Line, "He can't do that!"

What do you mean he can't do that? He's the Grand Master. I'm not bylaws expert but I believe he was well within his rights to do it. The expelled member, in fact, was appointed, not elected. I then gave the Brother a couple examples I've seen where a Grand Master and a Master of the Lodge of Research each had expelled elected line officers. We actually had one Grand Master who said no Lodge could have its own website and ordered all of them taken down. Can't do that? Of course they can. And do.

Absolute power — it's practically an aphrodisiac. You've been Master of your Lodge? You've had it, felt it, embraced it. Some use it wisely; some abuse it. Still, face the facts, we as Freemasons elect a benevolent (we hope) dictator.

When I was Master of my Lodge I tried to be reasonable as I swam in the seductive waters of absolute power. Oh, I made an "executive decision" now and then but all-in-all I think I controlled myself. Well, I controlled myself until…

...Monday, September 20, 2004. It was a week before Grand Lodge and three weeks before my final meeting as Master. I had practically the entire year behind me. I had wielded absolute power with a gentle hand but its siren song now called louder and louder. I was Clark Kent wanting to jump into a phone booth and become Superman. I was Thor unable to resist the pent-up urge to hurl thunderbolts. I was me, crazed, wide-eyed and drooling, ready to unleash my venom on the innocent, unsuspecting world of my Brothers.

"I'm going to do it," I told myself, resigned to the criticism that would surely follow. Who cares… I'm the Master, Captain Marvel, Iron Man, the Hulk, all rolled into one. I can do what I want. Damn the torpedoes, full-speed-ahead.

The unremarkable meeting neared its end. Business over, the Brothers sat on the sidelines ready for the standard closing. My next line, "Brother Senior Warden," which would set things in motion, never came.

Instead, I stood and rapped my gavel on the podium three times. The Brothers rose from their seats. I turned to my left, "Brother Chaplain, you will lead us in prayer."

The Chaplain was a little rattled. "What prayer," he whispered.

"The closing prayer."

"Supreme Architect of the Universe," he began and then ended with his usual flourish.

Then, awash in the intoxicating flood of absolute power, completely within my rights to do so, I skipped all other closing ceremonies, "Brethren, by the power vested in me as its Worshipful Master, I declare Liberty Lodge number 31 duly closed!" By God, I'm the Master. I have the authority. I can do it that way, and I did it. Live with it.

I gave a single rap of the gavel and waited for the onslaught of criticism that was about to come. I was ready. Give me your best shot.

Sometimes, in the ebb and flow of events, things don't happen exactly as we expect. Some call this "the law of unintended consequences." The thing is we usually think of that law implying a negative outcome where a positive outcome is expected.

Well, something unexpected happened here, but it was the opposite. I truly had expected a negative outcome. Instead, the entire Lodge erupted in cheers. Although the Brothers were already standing, I think it counted as a standing ovation.

Who knew giving in to the allure of absolute power could make a guy so popular? Or maybe they were just happy they could get to that second helping of dessert a little sooner. So mote it be.

George Washington's Invisible Ink

Brother George Washington was fascinated with the tools used in espionage and, in fact, there are books that delve into the subject. It's understandable... the man had a revolution to win. Invisible ink was one of Brother Washington's favorite tools, but it was fairly ineffective. Invisible ink of the day was made of a concoction largely comprised of lemon juice. The British were well aware of that type of invisible ink and knew all that had to be done to expose the writing was to subject it to heat. The process of heating the paper made it brittle and not many of the secret documents created that way survive today.

Realizing the fallibility of the lemon-based ink, Washington eventually used a special chemical ink which James Jay, brother of first US Chief Justice John Jay, had developed. Jay's ink was invisible until a second chemical agent revealed it, and was far more effective. This particular formula, known as "sympathetic stain," consisted of ferrous oxide (FeO) granules dissolved in water. A solution of sodium carbonate (more commonly known as baking soda) and water applied to the ink made it visible.

One rare surviving invisible ink specimen Washington sent involves another well-known aspect of his life: his troublesome teeth. It is a letter to his dentist, Dr. John Baker. In it, the General complains of a rough spot on his infamous dentures and requests the dentist send him one of his cleaning tools.

It might at first seem ridiculous Washington would be so careful as to write a such an innocuous letter to his dentist in invisible ink, but Washington knew if the letter fell into the wrong hands it would provide British intelligence with the name of a pro-American dentist, as well as Washington's location — new Windsor, New York — in the return address. The British, in fact, did intercept the letter. Accounts differ as to the ramifications of its capture. Some say they were unable to read it, and that may have saved his dentist's life, some say they decoded it and were amused by its content, others say it provided valuable information as to Washington's whereabouts.

Whatever the case, Washington made ample use of invisible ink in secret messages during the American Revolution and even had an organized spy ring, the Culpers, to, among other duties, deliver those messages. George Washington's most important secrets, it seems, had nothing to do with the Freemasons.

Bob Evans

Most Freemasons know about two of our Brothers who founded successful, even iconic restaurant chains. We hear lots of stories about the deeds, Masonic and otherwise, of Colonel Harlan Sanders (Hugh Harris Lodge 938, Corbin, Kentucky) and Dave Thomas (Sol. D. Bayless Lodge 359, Fort Wayne, Indiana). I don't have to tell you those two men started, respectively, Kentucky Fried Chicken and Wendy's Restaurants.

Did you know there is a third Brother who belongs in that elite group? Successful as he was, you may never have eaten at one of his restaurants unless you live in a specific geographic region. Legend has it that Bob Evans, founder of the restaurant chain bearing his name, would never open a restaurant where it would take more than a day to ship his "farm fresh" sausage by truck.

True or not, sausage was Brother Bob Evans' claim to fame. When he started a tiny diner in Gallipolis, Ohio in 1948 he was unable to get enough sausage, so he started making his own on his farm nearby. Over time, family and friends thought the sausage was so good, they encouraged him to make a business of selling it. Made with the best parts of the hog, however, restaurants and groceries judged his high-quality product to be too expensive. Unable to sell enough sausage elsewhere, Evans started his own restaurant chain, opening the first location on his farm in 1962.

From there, Evans expanded his culinary empire to become a $1.7 billion retail food products company with 480 restaurants in 22 states. Later, outside of his alleged delivery area, he purchased the Owens restaurant chain, based in Texas.

Raised in Morning Dawn Lodge #7 in Gallipolis, Ohio, Brother Evans was also a member of the Scottish Rite, Northern Masonic Jurisdiction, where he received the 33°. Dedicated to the Masonic tenets of Brotherly Love, Relief and Truth, Evans retired from the restaurant chain in 1986 to devote his life to humanitarian causes. He channeled his energies to helping youth in the 4H and FFA organizations as well as becoming a member of the Ohio Board of Regents where he supported higher-education. He was tireless in his efforts for the Heart Fund, the Ohio Society for the Prevention of Blindness, Arthritis Foundation and Easter Seals among others.

Brother Evans passed away in 2007 at the age of 89. Since his death his farm near Rio Grande Ohio has been listed on the National Register of Historic Places. The house is the home of the Homestead Museum which features items from his life and the company he founded. Although a big conglomerate has gobbled up his venerable restaurant chain, the food hasn't changed and you can still feel the presence of Brother Bob inside. The next time you're traveling through the Midwest, you might run across one of its distinctive red and white buildings in what is known as the"Steamboat Victorian" style. If you do you might stop in and remember our Brother as you have the same kind of meal he would have served you down on the farm years ago.