Knights of the Wise Men

In 2011, velvet-voiced pop singer Lionel Richie, a member of Lewis Adams Prince Hall Lodge No. 67, Tuskegee, appeared in an episode of The Learning Channel's popular series, Who Do You Think You Are. The show follows celebrities as they search out their family roots, usually finding a twist or two along the way. After some digging, the show began to focus on Richie's maternal great-grandfather, John Louis Brown.

In Nashville, where his maternal grandmother had been born, Richie discovered Brown, most likely born into slavery, had married his great-grandmother Volenderver in 1890, when she was only 15 and he was about 50. Before their divorce in 1897, the product of that marriage was Richie's grandmother, Adelaide M. (Brown) Foster.

Knowing his great-grandfather's name, Richie went to the Nashville Metropolitan Archive where things got interesting as they took on a fraternal air. City directories there listed John Louis Brown as Editor of the Knights of the Wise Men in 1880 and SGA of the Knights of the Wise Men in 1885. The title of Editor was a valuable piece of information indicating Brown was literate – not a guarantee back in those days. Richie's curiosity was piqued wondering who the Knights of the Wise Men were and what the designation SGA meant.

This sent him to Prince Hall Lodge No. 1 PHA F&AM in Nashville where he met with Professor Corey Walker, Brown University Historian of African Studies. The program makes no mention if Professor Walker is a Mason.  With a prominent Square and Compasses in the background Walker explains, "Knights of the Wise Men was a fraternal order that also had a benefit for its members. The organization helped build bonds of community between African American men. It was an institution that provided financial benefits to all of its members for sickness as well as in death… It was the precursor of what we think of as modern insurance companies."

According to the show, the Knights of the Wise Men was founded in 1879 to address the needs of the black community. Walker reminds Richie that during that period white organizations were separate and did not admit African Americans. Pushed away from the white community after the Civil War, blacks created their own institutions to assist African Americans. One of these was the Knights of the Wise Men, which grew to 278 lodges by 1882. "These were the prototypes," says Walker, "of the organizations that helped propel the modern Civil Rights movement."

When Richie questions Walker about the meaning of SGA, he learns it stands for Supreme Grand Archon. "He wasn't just a member of the organization, he was its national leader." In addition, Professor Walker produces a book of the order's rules, laws, and regulations which Brown authored. The book contains lectures, signs and passwords, much like today's Masonic rituals, "J.L. Brown was at the forefront in building a significant institution to meet the needs of African Americans across the nation."

A newspaper article reveals the fate of the Knights of the Wise Men when it reports on an 1891 smallpox epidemic, which caused the organization to have to pay out substantial death benefits, draining the treasury. In addition, the article reports on the disappearance of its treasurer, S. Carl Walker, who ran off with much of the remaining funds. With that tipping point the Knights of the Wise Men began its decline.

Brother Richie points out this is the same period during which Brown's marriage fell apart, and the pressures of the demise of the Knights may have had something to do with it, concluding, "My great-grandfather went from being a scoundrel in my mind all the way to being one of the pioneers of the Civil Rights movement."

J.L. Brown moved to Chattanooga after the demise of the Knights of the Wise Men. Richie travels there to find out what happened to his great-grandfather. There, he discovers Brown became a cemetery caretaker and finds a book containing his picture. Brown's death certificate reveals his father was a Morgan Brown, his mother unknown. He is buried in the same cemetery where he worked, in an unmarked pauper's grave.

A final bit of research shows Brown was a slave, his owner being a Morgan W. Brown. In a confusing twist Richie finds a Dr. Morgan Brown had a son, Morgan W. Brown. Dr. Brown's diary reveals J.L. Brown's mother was a slave named Mariah, whom he stipulates to be freed, along with J.L., upon his death. The show leaves it to speculation as to whether Dr. Morgan Brown, 80, or his son Morgan W. Brown, 39, was J.L.'s father.

Documents shown in the program reveal John Lewis Brown died in 1931 at the age of 92. Writing of his fraternity he said, "We believe that an acre of noble oaks is worth more than a countryside full of brush wood, and that one true and loyal Knight is worth more... than a Chamber room full of trash. We fully recognize the fact that we are poor and need no weights upon us, and to make our way successfully through life requires thorough organization of the masses, without which our future cannot be a bright one. It is only by our good qualities rightly set forth that we are to succeed in the future. First by educating every boy and girl and teaching from the cradle to the grave honesty, industry, economy of time and means, and the fullest enjoyment of all rights as citizens, and the destruction, death and burial of the accursed idea that the negro is inferior, simply because he has been in time deprived of life, liberty and property. Let us all be wise men and women."

Other sources indicate that prior to the fallout from the smallpox epidemic and the treasurer depleting its funds, the Knights of the Wise Men had a peak membership of about 350 lodges. It is recognized by some as the first insurance company in the United States. Today, on St. Helena Island in South Carolina, stands a building known as the Knights of Wise Men Lodge. A wood frame building built in 1899, it burned in 1940, and was replaced with the existing concrete structure which stands as the last remnant of a once-noble fraternity.

An Encounter With The Fringe Element

I suppose we've all had varying degrees of experiences with someone who thinks the Freemasons are responsible for everything from running the Deep State to Jimmy Hoffa's disappearance. On a personal level, I haven't had many, but the following account is about one encounter I had years ago with what one might call the fringe element.

Back in about 2003, I was an IT consultant to a company where word had gotten around that I was one of those weird Freemasons. One day, I'm sitting in a conference room with a couple other guys working out the details of a database design. Across the room another guy, let's call him John, was sketching things on a white-board in preparation for a meeting later in the day. All was quiet and businesslike when in walks the corporate nutball – let's call him Tom.

Tom was a piece of work. The views he openly and freely expressed made the flat-earthers look like top scientists. He bought into every conspiracy theory around and some I think he made up on his own. On top of that, Tom had a temper. One day when his desk phone wasn't working he decided to express his displeasure by flinging it across the room, which left the wires behind the jack broken and dangling out of the wall while the phone just missed a plate glass window and shattered when it hit the wall. Some of his outbursts were more mild. Apparently he didn't get fired because he was a good programmer – it was almost like he was an idiot-savant… with less emphasis on the savant part. I always found it a good practice to stay away from Tom.

John, on the other hand, was a quiet guy with a good sense of humor. We worked together on a few things and I thought I got to know him pretty well. On occasion we went to lunch together. He was charming, friendly and popular. He had, as far as I could see, only one drawback. He hung around a lot with Tom.

So while I was working with my team, Tom walked up to John on the other side of the room and they started talking at a level that was inaudible to me. Suddenly, as loud as he could manage, Tom yelled a single word – something that would be familiar to us all – the password of a Master Mason, "Xxxxxxxxx!"

On the other side of the room, the three of us turned to look at the aftermath of Tom's Tourette-like outburst. The two guys with me merely saw it as another one of Tom's Whiskey Tango Foxtrot moments; but I knew it was directed at the weird one… the goat-riding devil-worshipper… the Illuminati… me. Oh, Tom, you clever boy, you know the password. You've broken the centuries-old Masonic code. Did you find it on one of the 10,000 websites that list it, or did God himself reveal it to you? The password's echo faded, the conference room fell silent, and we all went back to work as if nothing had happened.

Out in the bullpen, John's workstation and mine were next to each other, so we interacted, bantered, and joked back and forth a lot. I never asked him what he thought of Tom's outburst and he never mentioned it. He proved to be bright and level-headed. Then one day he shocked me when he asked for a petition. I was thrilled. This young, articulate guy was exactly the kind of man we would want in the Fraternity.

I brought him one the next day. He lived too far away to petition my Lodge, but I told him I would put him in touch with Lodges in his area. I said I could not be his first-line signer since he would not be petitioning my Lodge (a rule in Missouri that has since been rescinded), but would put him in touch with someone who could do that. I also explained the petitioning process and told him he would be meeting with an investigating committee. He took the petition and thanked me.

Later that day I walked into another area of the office. There I saw Tom and John going over the petition together. That's when I realized John never wanted to join the Freemasons. What he and Tom really wanted was to see the dastardly things a Masonic candidate had to reveal about himself and agree to, in order to join the evil empire. I'm pretty sure Tom and John didn't notice I saw them dissecting the petition. Needless to say, John never brought it back to me and I never mentioned it again.

Hey, I'm a Master Mason. It wasn't the first time I'd been hoodwinked.

Words To Ponder

In addition to a lot of the research I do for the things I write, I'm also responsible for contributing to my Lodge of Research Twitter and Facebook accounts. All that has left me with a rather extensive collection of quotes, quips and words of wisdom from a variety of Freemasons. Every day I discover more amazing facts about our Craft and the Brothers who have made it what it is. The more Masonic research I do, the more I realize what a stunning and positive impact Freemasonry has had on our country and the world. With that in mind, I thought I'd share a few of my favorite quotes from our Brothers:

"I don't suppose any organization has done so much for so many with so little selfishness as the Masonic Fraternity." ~Thomas E. Dewey

"The more I come in contact with the Masonic fraternity, the more impressed I am with our great charitable work." ~Franklin Roosevelt

"A pessimist makes difficulties of his opportunities and an optimist makes opportunities of his difficulties." ~Harry S. Truman

"I always advise people never to give advice." ~P.G. Wodehouse

"A thorough knowledge of the Bible is worth more than a college education." ~Theodore Roosevelt

"My Lodge had at least 4 creeds. I was entered by a Hindu, passed by a Mohammedan and raised by an Englishman." ~Rudyard Kipling

"Don't let yesterday use up too much of today." ~Will Rogers

"If the freedom of speech is taken away then dumb and silent we may be led, like sheep to the slaughter." ~George Washington

 "Let us not paralyze our capacity for good by brooding of man's capacity for evil." ~David Sarnoff

"Anti-Semitism is a noxious weed that should be cut out. It has no place in America." William Howard Taft

"Courage is doing what you're afraid to do. There can be no courage unless you're scared." ~Eddie Rickenbacker

"Any jackass can kick down a barn, but it takes a good carpenter to build one." ~Sam Rayburn

"I'm proud to pay taxes in the United States; the only thing is, I could be just as proud for half the money." ~Arthur Godfrey

"Knowledge is ecstatic in enjoyment, perennial in frame, unlimited in space and indefinite in duration." ~DeWitt Clinton

"The man who doesn't read good books has no advantage over the man who can't read them." ~Mark Twain

"If I had to choose, I would rather have birds than airplanes." ~Charles Lindbergh

"I am a Mason because care for those who cannot care for themselves." ~Danny Thomas

"We were put here for a purpose—to build not to destroy. If I can make people smile, I've served my purpose for God." ~Red Skelton

"A man wrapped up in himself makes a very small bundle." ~Benjamin Franklin

"The liberties of none are safe unless the liberties of all are protected." ~William O. Douglas

"Our world has nuclear giants & ethical infants. We know more about war than peace, more about killing than living." ~Omar Bradley

"The measure of life is not its duration, but its donation." ~Peter Marshall

"Fear... is something you learn how to deal with and set aside. You want to be alert as you possibly can." ~Buzz Aldrin

"There's no education in the second kick of a mule." ~Fritz Hollings

"Be sincere; be brief; be seated. " ~Franklin D. Roosevelt

"Life is tough. It's tougher when you're stupid." ~John Wayne

Perhaps fitting for the final quote, and one of my favorites, are the last words, as reported from his wife, of the founder of the Order of DeMolay:

"It is the beginning." ~Frank S. Land

Be A Warm Body

Attendance… just like the Old Gray Mare, it ain't what it used to be.

As much as ever, maybe more, family and job pressures continue to demand the part of our time we might otherwise be able to devote to outside activities like going to Lodge. Even more than that, we have become a society of non-participators. It's easier to stay at home and watch the latest on Netflix than to go out; and drooling into cell phones on anti-social media has replaced real group interaction. This phenomenon isn't limited just to the Freemasons. Nearly all fraternal organizations, churches, clubs, even once-popular sporting events are seeing an attendance decline. Organizations like these now lack something they used to have plenty of… warm bodies.

There's not much I can do to change society's juggernaut of non-participation. But I've decided to do what little I can. I've declared myself to be a warm body.  I'm making every effort to show up where I can, when I can. That's my warm body motto: "… where I can, when I can."

Of course, being a warm body carries with it certain responsibilities. You show up at a meeting these days, you're probably going to be asked to do more. That's OK. I have no intention of going through the officer's line again, but you need a Marshal… I'll be your Marshal. And that's exactly what I am in my Lodge this year. In my Commandery, I've been Junior Warden seven years in a row. I've taken on other similar roles in other groups for one simple reason: so the head of that group has one less officer's chair to worry about filling.  Still, the word "no" hasn't left my vocabulary. It doesn't have to for me to be a responsible warm body. You know… "where I can, when I can."

I'm pretty comfortable in my role as a warm body. It gets me out the door and to some meetings where I have a great time, learn something and would be sorry to have missed.

Just showing up is a prerequisite to active participation. Looking at it in that light, we really do need more warm bodies. Try it. Next time you just don't feel like going to a Lodge meeting, put down the TV remote, silence your cell phone and head out. The guys you see there will be glad you did and I'm betting so will you. Be a warm body. It sounds trivial, but it's one of the most important things you can do for the fraternity.

Squeaky

I've been doing these Masonic minutes for several years now, since 2015, to be exact. So, just this once, allow me the indulgence of telling a personal story. My dad, Robert, Was a member of Noblesville Lodge 57 in Indiana. The Indianapolis Scottish Rite and Murat Shrine, where he was a fixture at lunch for many years. In the early 50s he took a job in Indianapolis as a purchasing agent for a large tool and die company. That company, Wallace Tool and Die, invented a metal expansion process that revolutionized the industry. By the mid-1960s the company was using that process to manufacture all the car doors for Ford Motor Company, all washing machine, dryer, and dishwasher casings for Westinghouse and Kenmore, most Ford car consoles and many other such parts. In other words, the company hit the big-time and incorporated as Wallace Expanding Machines, making Dad its secretary-treasurer.

One evening in the fall of 1975, Dad came home to find two men in suits standing on his front porch. One of the men had just taped a note to his front door and they had turned to leave. The note said simply, "Please call Bob Sabol, FBI," and gave a phone number.  Dad stopped the car halfway down the drive, got out and greeted the men. Sabol introduced himself as an agent with the Indianapolis office of the FBI. Then he asked, "Mr. Harrison, what do you know about Lynette Fromme?"

Dad knew exactly who she was. Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme was all over the news. Earlier that week she had aimed a gun at President Gerald Ford and was apprehend without firing it.  Other than that, Dad knew nothing of her.

Agent Sabol asked Dad a few other questions wanting to know where he worked and what his position was with the company.  Dad told him about his position at Wallace.

It turned out, Dad's position at Wallace, now an important player in the manufacturing industry, had earned him a listing in Standard and Poor's Directory of Corporate Executives, national edition.

Sabol went on to explain that in searching Squeaky's apartment after the incident, they found a mass mailing she was preparing and all of the envelopes used Dad's home address as the mailing's return address. The mailing also listed Dad's title as "President, US Natural Resources." Dad told them he had never heard of that company.  Sabol informed him their investigation had determined the Standard and Poor's directory had shown Dad as its president. It didn't take much in the discussion that followed to determine Dad had no relationship with either Squeaky or US Natural Resources. S&P affiliating him with the USNR was, in fact, a clerical error.

Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme, aside from being a kooky follower of Charles Manson, was a rabid environmentalist. In fact, she had gone to the Ford rally where she was arrested to try to plead with him to stop harvesting redwoods. Apparently, she thought US Natural Resources had something to do with the environment, had looked it up in the S&P directory and that is how she got Dad's name.

The conversation with the FBI sent Dad to his office where he had filed the proof copy of his S&P listing without paying much attention to it. Sure enough, right there under "Other Current Affiliations" he found himself listed as the Chairman & Chief Executive Officer of US Natural resources. He filed the note from the FBI with it as a souvenir.

Courts found Squeaky guilty of the attempted assassination of the President of the United States and sentenced her to life. She was paroled in 2009. The great irony for her is US Natural Resources is a company that deals in sawmills and equipment to harvest trees, not save them, as the Squeakster must have assumed. The FBI was easily convinced Dad had nothing to do with Squeaky Fromme and her misguided antics and never bothered him again about it… but the affair always made a good story at cocktail parties… and podcasts.

For the Whence Came You podcast, this is Steve Harrison with the Masonic Minute.

When Brothers Disappoint

There are, they say, two types of motorcyclists: those who have been down and those who are going down.  In the same vein, there are two types of Freemasons: Those who have been disappointed by a Brother and those who will be disappointed by a Brother.

It happens.  We're not perfect.  We're human.  Those aren't exactly earthshaking revelations are they?  When the anti-Masonic party courted him as a potential presidential candidate, Most Worshipful Brother Henry Clay acknowledged the imperfections of the craft, "It does not practically effect all that it theoretically promises."  However, he added, "But it must not be said that I concur in the denunciation of Masonry...  I would not denounce and formally renounce it to be made President of the United States."

Still, when we feel a Brother does not live up to Freemasonry's standards, we're surprised and hurt.  When it happens it's best to think it through in light of those theoretical promises Brother Clay mentioned.

A ray of hope is there in such situations in that within the fraternity, we are always dealing with the issue on a higher level.  That is, the Brother whom we perceive to have wronged us has knelt at an altar, his hands on his Volume of Sacred Law and sworn before God Almighty that he will not cheat, wrong or defraud another Brother. 
There is also another side to the coin.  It bears asking, "Does that Brother think I have disappointed him? Am I doing everything I can to 'subdue my passions and improve myself in Freemasonry?'"  And remember, that other Brother should be asking the same.

There are no easy answers and never will be; but we should have a leg up on solving our differences because we are, in fact, Brothers.

As far as that motorcycle thing goes, I happen to be a biker who has been down.  I have the crushed leg to prove it.  In my own particular case, I upgraded my ride to a Harley Trike.  That third wheel helps to keep me a bit more stable. It would be great to have a third wheel to help steady our Masonic relationships, too, wouldn't it? 

Come to think of it, we do.  We call it an obligation. What, my Brothers, come you here to do?

Roy Clark

Last November, we all lost a man who had become an active, dedicated, true and faithful brother among us.  Roy Linwood Clark, a talented, acclaimed musician, former Entertainer of the Year, Grammy winner, singer and virtuoso guitarist, passed at the age of 85 to that Lodge not made with hands.

Clark was a perpetual member of Jenks Lodge 497 in Oklahoma. He was made a Mason at sight in 1987 and quickly became a leader in the fraternity. A Shriner and member of the York Rite, he also joined the Valley of Tulsa Scottish Rite, which coroneted him a 33ª Inspector General Honorary in 2001.

Roy Clark was always a talented spokesman for the Craft and avidly promoted its tenets and values. A few years ago, speaking from the heart, he told this story at one of his concerts:

"The importance of Masonic Brotherhood was brought home to our band last month when we were on tour in Regina, Saskatchewan. Our guitar player, Frank Sandusky, had a blood vessel suddenly rupture in his neck, was rushed to the hospital, and the doctor's report was grave. When local brethren found out that he was a Mason they sent for his wife. They took her in, saw that she got back and forth to the hospital, and saw to her needs. It didn't cost her anything, and made an unpleasant situation more bearable — and that is what Masonry is all about. Frank is with us today, as my 'right arm' in the band and plays a lot of the beautiful harmony you'll hear."

"I know of no other organization," said Clark, "where you have a friend all over the world. It gives you peace of mind, especially traveling as much as we do."

We have all had that experience, haven't we, where you can walk into a room full of men you have never met, but they are brothers and they are immediately your friends. When you are a Freemason among Brothers, there are no strangers.

Freemason of the Century

Let's travel back in time for a few minutes. Let's set the wayback machine for 20 years and go back to the halcyon days of the turn of the century. Millennium fever was at its peak and Y2K was about to destroy us all, or so we heard from a panicked news media. We anticipated the heralding of the new century and mathematicians argued over whether it started in 2000 or 2001. Time magazine named Albert Einstein the Person of the Century. Baseball named a Team of the Century. Other groups had their picks; but as far as I know, Freemasonry remained silent on the subject. Many lodges name a Mason of the year, but how about a Mason of the Century? Well, I have a nomination: that prolific Masonic author and leader, Ray Vaughn Denslow.

When Denslow died unexpectedly in 1960, waves of shock reverberated through the Masonic world. While no single individual could ever be the glue that holds Freemasonry together, Ray Denslow was certainly a catalyst for that process. Denslow discovered Freemasonry through his father and grandfather, who were both members and Masters of their Lodges. He was fascinated with the Craft to the point that he was initiated at midnight on his 21st birthday. From there, he went from being the youngest Freemason in the world to likely being the most well-known, holding a myriad of offices along the way. Grand Master of Missouri in 1931-32, he went on to lead other organizations, most notably serving as General Grand High Priest of the General Grand Chapter of Royal Arch Masons from 1942-1946. His list of organizations, offices, and honors covers six pages of small print in his memoirs. As one of his colleagues put it, "Ray Denslow is a promiscuous joiner."

Most Worshipful Brother Denslow was also a prolific writer; perhaps the most productive Masonic author of his time. With no computers in his day, he was glued to his manual Underwood typewriter. Denslow's compulsion for writing left the Fraternity with 22 books, 75 pamphlets, and dozens of magazine articles.

Beyond that, for 28 years, from 1932 until his death, he compiled an annual book-length report on the state of Freemasonry in the world. Masonic leaders worldwide anticipated its release each year. This communique, The Masonic World, became critically important in the years leading up to World War II as the only source of information on the state of the Craft in countries where ruthless dictators were shutting down Freemasonry. After the war, it provided valuable information about the efforts to reconstruct what nearly had been lost. Denslow didn't just write about the situation. He personally visited those countries to observe conditions first-hand. Those efforts gained him a worldwide fame which hardly another of our Brothers has known to this day. His passing created a void which in many ways has yet to be filled – The Masonic World died with Ray Denslow.

All that activity did not include what Denslow regarded as his crowning achievement. In 1943, he founded the Royal Arch Mason magazine, a periodical which became the largest Masonic publication in the world and which today almost every York Rite Mason reads. MWB Denslow edited and published the magazine from its inception until his death. When he passed away, his son William, best known as the author of 10,000 Famous Freemasons, took over.

Denslow knew Masonic and political leaders all over the world. He dined with kings, prime ministers and presidents. Harry Truman considered him one of his best friends. They discussed Masonic matters frequently and he considered Denslow's writings so important that he ordered paper be made available to him on a priority basis, even when paper was in short supply during World War II. When his train came through Trenton, Missouri, Denslow's home town, on his “Whistle Stop” tour in 1948, Truman, a Democrat, pulled Denslow up onto his car and introduced him to the crowd as, “my damned Republican friend.”

When Denslow was not off traveling the world on behalf of Freemasonry or working on another book or article, he was in front of his typewriter recording his Masonic activities on a daily basis. There was no aspect of Freemasonry Denslow considered unimportant. In those memoirs he chronicled "mundane" Masonic meetings as if they were ceremonies for kings; and those ceremonies for kings… he was a part of them as well.

The man was nothing less than a Masonic icon. His writings made him famous. His efforts on behalf of Freemasonry earned him respect. In 1933, he wrote an allegorical piece which, in poetic terms, described the workings, symbolism, beauty and principles of the Craft. It was entitled, "I Am Freemasonry." That he was.

James Monroe and the Electoral College

Plumer, simply, was not a supporter of Monroe. More than that, however, Plumer was also charged to vote for Brother Monroe's Vice Presidential candidate. Monroe's pick for Vice President was Daniel Tompkins, a member of Hiram Lodge 72, Mt. Pleasant, NY who later served as that state's Grand Master. Plumer detested Tompkins, describing him as as "grossly intemperate" and having "not that weight of character which his office requires." Historians agree, it is more likely it was Monroe's association with Brother Tompkins, rather than Plumer's admiration of Washington, that cost Monroe a unanimous election.

But there is actually more to the story. Plumer was not a Freemason. The man for whom he voted, John Quincy Adams, was one of American history's most ardent anti-Masons. His strong views opposing the Craft are well-known and well-documented. Many histories of the era overlook the fact that Plumer, instead of voting for Tompkins, cast his vice-presidential vote for former US attorney general Richard Rush. Rush was initiated in Philadelphia's Union Lodge 121 on September 19, 1811. He remained an entered apprentice, attended only one meeting, resigned from the Craft, and like Adams became a vehement anti-Mason.

To recap, Plumer, a non-Mason voted for Adams and Rush, two strident anti-Masons, in opposition to two Freemasons, Monroe and Tompkins. It's hard to believe, isn't it, that didn't have something to do with Plumer's actions in what may have been one of the first shots across the bow in the then-coming anti-Masonic period.

Oriental Lodge - A Not So Enduring Tradition

I'm a big fan of the Indianapolis 500 mile race. I go every year.

Here's a fun fact about that race: The Indianapolis 500 Mile Race has never been run in Indianapolis.

Stick with me. I'll get back to the Masonic significance of that later.

Back in my DeMolay days I was a member of Oriental Chapter in Indianapolis.  We met in a magnificent building near the city's center.  Its entire first floor was an expansive lounge with plush leather chairs, couches, coffee tables and smoking stands scattered around.  Matching pool and billiards tables, massive and ornate, sat in the back of the room.  I loved the place – especially the pool table.

Oriental Lodge 500, F&AM, owned the building and met there.  That Lodge, chartered in 1875, was a Masonic powerhouse.  With a peak membership over 1,000 many of its members were the "movers and shakers" of Indianapolis society.  Among the more famous Brothers who called it home were US Vice-President Charles W. Fairbanks, US Senator Albert J. Beveridge, conductor Fabien Sevitzky, world table-tennis champion Jimmy McClure and railway president Bowman Elder.

Over the years the surrounding neighborhood changed and membership fell.  Oriental merged with Evergreen Lodge, became Evergreen-Oriental Lodge 500, and moved to a newer, albeit less distinctive building in the western suburbs.  I visited the building once and was disappointed to discover the DeMolay chapter was long gone.

Meanwhile the great old building that had been Oriental's home had become the new home of Central Lodge No. 1 of the Most Worshipful Prince Hall Grand Lodge of Indiana.  As a bonus, the building itself is now listed in the National Register of Historic Places.

So on a trip to dear old Indy, I had dinner with a lifelong friend who had been a member of that DeMolay Chapter with me, and had subsequently joined Oriental Lodge.  We talked about DeMolay and that Lodge and I discovered he was angry.  Really angry… so angry he had quit the Shrine and Scottish Rite in protest.  "In protest of what?" I asked.  (Inquiring minds want to know).

He explained there had been another merger.  As a result, he was now a member of Northwest Lodge, located in the same building as the former Evergreen-Oriental.  Sadly, the Oriental name, probably along with much of its rich history was lost.  But what seemed to anger him more was the fact that he was now a member of Northwest Lodge 770.

770?  What happened to 500?  Why not take the lower number?

Back to the little fun fact.  The Indianapolis Motor Speedway is actually located in an incorporated town known as Speedway.  As you can tell by its name, the town wouldn't even exist but for the presence of the famed brickyard.  It is also the home of Speedway Lodge 729.
Or, I should say, "was the home…"  It seems in its infinite wisdom, the Grand Lodge of Indiana yanked (I think that was the term he used) the number 500 and gave it to the Lodge in Speedway making it Speedway 500.  Cute, Grand Lodge of Indiana, very cute.  And cheesy, very cheesy.  History and tradition be damned for a cheap trick that, frankly, not many outside the Masonic fraternity will ever care about.
  
I completely understand my friend's anger.  I also wonder if it might have ticked off some of the members of Speedway Lodge.  I know, it's only a number; yeah, along with history and tradition and other things the fraternity is supposed to embrace.  It's the world we live in.  Publicity and marketing seem to be ubiquitous.  The likes of Google, Amazon and Facebook are constantly hounding us to go here, go there and ultimately spend money.  While I think the Masons need to do a better job of promotion, I'd rather see a more classy way of going about it. We're swimming in advertising, promotion and gimmicks – poor substitutes for brotherly love, relief and truth.

Besides, what did Indiana Masons get from this… more members?   I doubt it.

For a follow-up stunt I wonder if they plan to rename it Verizon Wireless Lodge 500 brought to you by Pepsi.

The Cowan

A few years ago at Missouri’s Grand Lodge session, the Grand Secretary asked me, with approval from the Grand Master, to take some photographs of the tiled Grand Lodge meeting.

We held the meeting in a large conference center jam-packed with over 1,000 Brothers.  As I walked around the room trying to figure out the best angles for the photographs it became apparent I wouldn’t get a good photo from the convention floor.  Fortunately, there was an office area above with a bank of draped windows overlooking the cavernous meeting room.  That, I figured, would give me the best vantage point for the shot the Grand Secretary wanted.

I hauled my equipment upstairs and entered the office.   There, I peeked out of each window to determine the best angle for my impending work of art.  I selected the appropriate window, opened the drapes just enough to stick my head and camera through, knelt and started snapping pictures.

When I lowered my camera I noticed a flurry of activity on my end of the room.  Right below me, Brothers were waving their arms and pointing at me. Some were even heading toward the door.  Momentarily, the meeting stopped.  The Brothers had exposed a cowan in their midst… and it was me!

Being a man of decisive action, I decided it was time to make a quick exit.  “Feet,” I thought, “don’t fail me now.”  I grabbed my stuff, whirled around and prepared to make myself scarce.

Too late.

As I stood up, the office door flew open.  There, holding his angled rod in front of his body with both hands, legs planted apart, silent and ready for battle, stood the Grand Pursuivant. 

Do I need to mention it was an uncomfortable moment?

I didn’t know the man but it was pretty obvious he was a Brother.  As a few others began to show up behind him, I introduced myself and told him what I was up to.  It didn’t take too long to convince him I was legitimate and the crisis quickly ended.  A few smiles even broke out.


I suppose there are some things to be learned from the incident… like, for example we probably should have announced that the photos were being taken.  Mainly, however, I learned some Brothers apparently have eyes in the back of their heads, since they were all facing away from me when I took the pictures.

Although I edited the Missouri Freemason magazine at the time I never published the photo, but it now hangs in the Masonic Museum at the Masonic Complex in Columbia.

That Grand Pursuivant was elected Grand Master of the Grand Lodge of Missouri in September, 2016.  We’ve gotten to know each other pretty well and every once in a while we share a smile recalling the way we met.

For the Whence Came You podcast, this is Steve Harrison with the Masonic Minute.

Was Cole Younger A Freemason?

Sometime back in the fifties my Lodge, Liberty #31 in Missouri, had a fire. It's a familiar story: the fire destroyed nearly everything including precious membership records. Members, as usually happens, rebuilt the building but the membership records were lost forever... or so we thought. Then one day back in 2004 our secretary was rooting through our "junk room" and came upon an old box. When he opened it he discovered membership logs from the mid 19^th century. What a find!

Rummaging through the records proved fascinating and before our next meeting — for what it's worth I was Master at the time — the secretary and I sat there going through some of them. We were mainly looking to confirm the names of some of our previous Masters and also trying to see if any of the members had been prominent citizens of the era.

Cole Younger

Suddenly the secretary slid a book across the table to me and pointed at an entry, "What do you make of that?"

The name on the line read, "C. Younger, Entered Apprentice." Underneath that was another entry, "Littleton Younger: rejected." The entries were from the records of 1852.

We were both thinking the same thing: "C. Younger." COLE Younger? The notorious bandit turned Confederate Civil War guerrilla Cole Younger? In my opinion, Cole Younger wasn't exactly Freemason material, but I had to find out.

I began checking the next morning. It took about fifteen seconds to figure out C. Younger was not Cole. Thomas Coleman "Cole" Younger was born in 1844 and would have been a kid at the time. But who was C. Younger; and, in fact, who was Littleton Younger and why was he rejected?

Charles Lee Younger

We found no records to indicate our C. Younger advanced beyond the First Degree. He was not Cole's father, whose name was Henry. His paternal grandfather, however, was named Charles. Cole also had an uncle named Charles Younger. Nothing in my research led to any concrete conclusions. Cole's Grandfather, Charles Lee "Cole" Younger, died in 1854. He wouldn't have been a Mason for long, but perhaps that might explain why he only received the First Degree. Since Cole's Uncle Charles was not as old, it may be more likely he was Liberty's Entered Apprentice. If he advanced, those records might be among the items still lost. Once Cole's escapades as a thief, murderer and member of Quantrill's Raiders began, Uncle Charles moved out of the area.

Born in Virginia, Littleton Younger, also one of Cole's uncles, moved to Kentucky where he met and married his wife, Eliza. From there, the couple moved to Liberty, where they had five children. After their children were born, they moved to an area northeast of Eugene, Oregon. There is no record as to why his petition for membership was denied. Once described as a sportsman, perhaps he shot something other than the white-tailed deer indigenous to the area. Whatever the case, once established in Oregon he did, in fact join the Fraternity. His gravestone shows he was born in 1816, died in 1893, and it bears that familiar symbol... the square and compasses.

It is almost certain Cole Younger was never a Freemason. At the age of eighteen he had already committed his first murder and had a $1,000 bounty on his head. He is known to have killed 17 men and was shot so many times he once said of himself, "I guess you could strike lead in me in almost any place you drilled." He died peacefully in 1916, at the age of 72. In all he was one of the most notorious men in the country, along with another famous Clay County, Missouri resident, Jesse James, whom he hated... but that's altogether another story.

DeMolay University: an incredible program for tomorrow's leaders.

Swimming in Masonic Education

The Grand Lodge of Missouri has on occasion conducted surveys asking the Brothers, among other things, what they want from Masonry. It probably won't shock you to discover the number one thing on the list is "Masonic education."

So, hats off to the Grand Lodge of Missouri — it listened to the Brothers, went to work and came up with a Masonic education program. It works this way: On a regular basis the Grand Lodge sends an information packet to each Lodge Secretary. Included within that packet is a document containing a piece on Freemasonry. Then, at a stated meeting, the Secretary, Lodge Education Officer or any Brother can read the piece and perhaps conduct a discussion afterward. Note that the program also has the added advantage that Lodges across the state are all working on the same subject simultaneously.

There you go… Masonic education handed to you on a silver platter.

What more could you ask for?

I'll tell you exactly what: you could ask for the Lodges to make use of it. I attend my share of Lodge meetings. While "reliable sources" tell me there are some Lodges that do, I have never sat in a Lodge that uses the material.

So let's recap. The number one thing Brothers want is Masonic education; the Grand Lodge provides it; and (generalizing) the Brothers don't use it. It's a bit of a paradox, isn't it? Maybe the next survey should ask, "What do you really want?"

So, I have a suggestion. If you want Masonic education more than anything, appoint yourself your own personal education officer. Read, research, write, learn everything you can; but don't stop there. Make a commitment to take it to Lodge. It doesn't take much. Maybe start by reading an article from the Midnight Freemasons Blog, or maybe an excerpt from MNF founder Todd Creason's Famous American Freemasons book. (Modesty… ahem… prevents me from mentioning you could read something from one of my books). Likely as not, just a few minutes on a subject will spark a discussion. If my experience is any indication, your Brothers will thank you for doing it. Try it: just a few minutes of Masonic education can turn a mundane meeting into a memorable meeting.

If that works, take it a step further. Ask your Brothers to do the same. Maybe think about "upping your game" and turning it into a presentation. Take it to other lodges. Ask those Brothers to do the same.

In the words of that great litterbug Arlo Guthrie, "Let's start a movement." Before you know it, we might be swimming in Masonic education.

Ten Rubies

In 1919, 28-year old Frank Land ran the Scottish Rite Masons Relief Committee in Kansas City. As the successful program grew, Land hired 17-year old Louis Lower to help with its increasing workload. Louis had just lost his father.  Land understood how much Louis missed his father due to his separation from his own Dad as a youth.  He was so impressed with young Louis that in February 1919, he suggested forming a club at the Scottish Rite temple in Kansas City for Louis and some of his friends.  Over the course of the next week, Louis rounded up eight friends to become members. Those nine boys and Frank Land met for the first time on February 19, 1919, having no clue that their little "club" would eventually become a worldwide organization known as DeMolay International.

Land named the order after Jaques DeMolay, the last Grand Master of the Knights Templar who was martyred under the reign of France's Phillip the Fair. When DeMolay refused to admit to the charges Phillip and a corrupt Pope had manufactured against him, he was burned at the stake on March 18, 1314.

Much is known of Frank Land, who in his day became world famous as the founder of DeMolay. Less is known, however, of the original nine boys even though their memory is revered within the order. Today they are all gone.

Originally ten pearls surrounded the crest on the DeMolay pin. Frank decreed that as he and each of the nine Brothers passed away, the Brother's pearl would be replaced with a ruby.

With a bit about each of the original DeMolays, the rubies appeared in this order:

Ivan Bently (March 18, 1903 – July 11, 1933): Little is known of Bentley. Until recently even his date of death was in dispute. Early DeMolay records show he died in 1921. In fact, he was killed in an accident in 1933, when he became the first ruby on the crest. His only known accomplishment -  he was one of the first DeMolays to earn the Chevalier honor. Bentley is buried in Kansas City's Forest Hill cemetery with his parents.

Louis Lower

Louis Lower (February 2, 1902 – July 18, 1943): The first DeMolay was born and lived his entire life in Kansas City. Having received the Chevalier honor, Lower was the first member of the DeMolay Legion of Honor. He was an up-and-coming civic leader who had a significant role in cleaning up the corrupt Kansas City political machine. After accomplishing this, the mayor of KC appointed Lower as manager of the Municipal Auditorium.  On his way home from a long day of work in the early July morning hours, a drunken security guard attempting to direct traffic confronted Lower for driving in the area.  Fully within his rights, Lower challenged the guard for directing traffic while under the influence.  The guard responded by pulling out his revolver and shooting Lower in the chest at point-blank range. The guard was convicted of murder, but served only three years of a fifteen-year sentence. Eight hundred people attended Lower's funeral, with a shocked and saddened Frank Land delivering the eulogy. Lower is buried in Mount Washington cemetery, Independence, Missouri.

Frank Land

Frank Land (June 21, 1890 – November 8, 1959): DeMolay's founder became the third ruby on the crest when he died unexpectedly of scleroderma, a buildup of collagen in skin and organs. In addition to his role with DeMolay, Land was Imperial Potentate of the Shrine. He held the thirty-third degree in the Scottish Rite and was awarded its highest honor, the Grand Cross. He was a great friend of Harry Truman and President Calvin Coolidge appointed him to promote his national youth program. Land is buried in Kansas City's Mount Moriah cemetery.

Edmund Marshall (September 29, 1902 – November 7, 1966): Awarded the Chevalier honor in 1920, Marshall graduated from the University of Missouri. He was the president of the Kansas City Board of Trade, an American commodity futures and options exchange. Marshall is buried in Mount Hope cemetery, Webb City, Missouri.

Clyde Stream (June 15, 1902 – May 13, 1971): Born in Warrensburg, Mississippi, Stream lived briefly in the Kansas City area, then moved to Springfield, Illinois where he worked for the Sangamo Electric Company until his retirement in 1967. A recipient of the DeMolay Legion of Honor, he was an active member of Springfield Lodge and other Masonic Bodies. He died in Bradenton, Florida and is buried in Oak Ridge Cemetery, Springfield, Illinois.

Gorman McBride (March 14, 1902 - November 10, 1973): He was the second obligated DeMolay and the first Master Councilor of the Mother Chapter. He received the Chevalier honor in 1920 and was a member of the International Supreme Council. McBride was the only one of the original nine to receive the Founder's Cross from Frank Land. He became a Kansas City area attorney. He is buried in Kansas City's Mount Moriah cemetery.

Ralph Sewell (February 27, 1901  - July 1976): Sewell was born and lived his entire life in the Kansas City area. He became the credit manager for the H. D. Lee Mercantile Company, makers of Lee jeans. He was a skilled pianist and organist. He is buried in Mount Moriah cemetery, Kansas City.

Elmer Dorsey (July 20, 1903- November 17, 1979):  Dorsey was a successful businessman who moved to Dallas, Texas and became an Advisor to Richardson DeMolay Chapter. He died in November 1979.

William Steinhilber (October 7, 1903 - October 28, 1992): He was the first captain of a DeMolay baseball team. Born in Arkansas, Steinhilber lived in Kansas City prior to moving to San Diego California, where he became a Stock and Bond broker.

Jerome Jacobson (October 05, 1904 - May 10, 2002):   Jacobson graduated from the University of Kansas and was a successful attorney in Missouri. The last survivor of the original nine DeMolay boys, he is the only member of that group to be inducted into the DeMolay Hall of Fame. A lifetime resident of Kansas City, he is buried in its Mount Moriah cemetery.

Some may not even realize that ten rubies now adorn the DeMolay Crest and every member's DeMolay pin. They are small and many may not even notice them, yet they represent a legacy of accomplishments and the bond of brotherhood of nine young men and their leader.

The author's DeMolay pin with seven pearls and three rubies. 

The rubies represent Ivan Bentley, Louis Lower and Frank Land.

DeMolay at 100

In September, 1914, the Kansas City Scottish Rite offered an energetic young Mason a job as Administrator of the newly-formed Mason's Relief Committee. A restaurant owner, the young Brother sold his business and went to work for the Masons. Frank Sherman Land didn't realize it but, at the age of 24, his destiny was now laid out before him.

In the years that followed, Land built the program into one of the premier relief organizations in Kansas City, helping secure hundreds of jobs for the unemployed and distributing food and clothing to the needy.  The organization grew and, in time, Land needed assistance, so he hired 17-year-old Lewis Lower to help him during evenings and weekends.  Lewis had just lost his father.  Land understood how much Lewis missed his father due to his separation from his own dad as a youth.  Land was so impressed with young Lewis that in February 1919 he suggested forming a club at the Scottish Rite temple in Kansas City for Lewis and some of his friends.  The following week, Lewis and his friends met there for the first time.

Over the next couple of months Land and Lower met with a core group of eight additional boys. Others joined and the little club began to flourish. They named this new organization after the last Grand Master of the Knights Templar who, rather than betray his God, defied the Pope and the King of France and was burned at the stake. Thus was born the Order of DeMolay which today, in 2019, celebrates 100 successful years of helping turn boys into men. My father, my brother and I are among the thousands who have benefited from its precepts. Also in that group are Frank Borman, Walt Disney, John Steinbeck, Fran Tarkenton, John Wayne and a host of others you would immediately recognize as leaders and role models.

To be sure, my experience as a DeMolay was somewhat different than boys who are members today. Like the Masons, the organization has suffered a decline in membership over the years. We had more members and more participation than typically found in chapters today. In fact, my chapter had so many members officers terms were limited six months so to give more boys a chance to advance. As Master Councilor I had a full line of officers – 22 in all.

I had the standard insecurities of any geeky high school student. My extra-curricular activities were church, Boy Scouts and DeMolay. Of all those it was DeMolay that best taught me I could be a leader. During my term we had a major event with Master, Senior and Junior Councilors coming in from all over the state for a Councilor's Night; and there I was, a 17-year-old kid, standing in the East with a Chapter packed with statewide DeMolay and Masonic Leaders. It was a big deal, and I was just a little too young and naive to recognize the support I had from the Chapter advisors who were really the ones who put it together. That's OK. Events like that gave me the confidence to be a leader, not a follower. And that is exactly what those advisors wanted.

I did not join the Freemasons immediately after being a DeMolay. I went off to college and never thought much about the Masons. When my father became a 50-year member, he asked me to attend the ceremony and present his jewel. As I walked into that Lodge room – my first time in about 25 years, the memories of my DeMolay experiences flooded back to me. Everything was as I remembered. It was all familiar, comfortable and even inspiring. Right then and there I decided I wanted to join, and I can say without hesitation if I had not been a DeMolay, I would not be a Freemason today.

It is my sincere hope and prayer that today's smaller groups of DeMolays get as much out of the organization as I did; and from what I've seen of many of them, they do. A recent survey showed about 9% of all Freemasons are former DeMolays. You could say that's not a high percentage. I prefer to look at it another way. You could also say fully nine per cent of our membership comes from DeMolay and in an era of falling membership any group that provides that percentage of our members is significant. Whatever the case, it wouldn't surprise me if many of those DeMolays who become Masons will also be among our leaders. Happy 100th birthday, DeMolay. May you flourish and have many more.

Louie Louie

The 1960s – the decade where the 1950s white bread era evolved into what some thought was an ill-bred era: the baby boomer's coming of age. Smack-dab in the middle of that transition The Kingsmen, an obscure rock group of limited talent, released a song that may have been destined for the dung-heap of obscurity… except for one thing. It was so lousy, no one could understand the words. Sounding like it was recorded inside a rubber hose, the recording's muffled lyrics led to much speculation as to what the group was really saying. When the collective jury issued a verdict on that debate, however, the word came down that the lyrics were "dirty." The debate and informal conclusion that the words were obscene skyrocketed the song, Louie Louie, into the Billboard top 10.

The debate raged on until even the FBI got involved and ruled it couldn't tell what the hell the group was saying. Matthew Welsh, Indiana Governor, didn't wait for no stinkin' FBI verdict. He bought his own copy of the record, played it at different speeds and declared it inappropriate. "It made my ears tingle," he said, whatever that means.

Welsh contacted a friend, Reid Chapman, who was the President of the Indiana Broadcasters Association, and told him, "It might be simpler all around if Louie Louie wasn't played." Chapman complied and yanked the song from the airwaves. People jumped to the conclusion that Welsh had banned Louie Louie.

The uber-conservative Indianapolis Star pounced right on that and wrote a scathing editorial that demolished both the song for its suspect lyrics and the Governor for overstepping his authority.

Soon after it was… or wasn't… banned in Indiana, Louie Louie dropped from the charts. Welsh, later in life, lamented the fact that although he really didn't ban the song, per se, "It's the only thing I'm remembered for."

Fast forward a few years to my sophomore year in college.

All the furor over the song had died down. Louie Louie remained relatively popular given, or in spite of, what one critic called "an abomination of overbearing jungle rhythm." In other words, it was a good party song. The hippie era was blossoming and the Kingsmen were considered an oldies band.

I lived in Wright Quadrangle, a sprawling dormitory on the Indiana University campus. My roommate, Mike, was its student government President. Mike was a great source of inside information about what was going on in the life of the dorm, which amounted to not much. He intended to change that. He told me for the past several years the quadrangle's Board of Governors hadn't planned any social activities. As a result, their budget for such things sat idle and they had accumulated quite a tidy sum. Mike decided we should have a giant blowout party with the funds. "I want a big-name band," he told me.

Even with a "tidy sum" tucked away, big-name bands weren't cheap and, even though the dorm had an enormous dining room, most of them wanted more than a dorm party. Mike's party fund was just enough to attract – guess who – the Kingsmen. Word spread across campus and the response was incredible. This was going to be… and maybe still is, the biggest party Wright Quad had ever seen.

The appointed night came for the widely-anticipated event. The gargantuan dining hall was packed beyond capacity; no one had bothered to invite the fire marshal. The Kingsmen didn't make the crowd wait for its signature song. The lights went down, the sound came up and the crowd went crazy with that familiar riff… ba-ba-ba ● ba-ba ●  ba-ba-ba ● ba-ba.

I don't remember any of their other songs but steadily throughout the night they reverted to Louie, driving the crowd into a frenzy.

I'm not sure what the truth is about what's on the record, but I can tell you first hand a couple things. First, the words weren't much more clear as I stood listening to them sing it in the same room. Second, as the evening progressed the crowd took over singing along with its own version of the song. That version was, by the standards of that time, obscene... had he been there, it would have made the Governor's ears tingle.