Three Encounters of the Close Kind

My seemingly never-ending quest into Masonic research has taken a strange turn lately. I blame Google; promising links gone bad. We all know there is some off-the-wall stuff out there about Freemasons, but lately I just seem to be hitting an abundance of space/alien/Masonic connections. It's not always a direct link, but I've found mysteries with multiple theories where the author spirals into a shotgun approach that ends up with, "If you can't blame the Freemasons, blame it on aliens." The treasure buried on Oak Island is a perfect example: "If the Freemasons didn't put it there, ET did." Then there is my personal favorite — Freemasons get mystic powers from the hexagon on Saturn. Really, I wish these creative conspiracy theorists were right. I could use a few mystic powers.

In our Masonic Lodges we are not to discuss politics or religion. I think we should add UFO discussions to that. I have learned differences in opinion about the nature of UFOs can lead to big trouble between two people who are otherwise friends. Suffice it to say, I'm a skeptic. That's all you get. I don't want any big trouble.

Having said that, hitting a bonanza of links about Masons and aliens lately has given me reflections about my three UFO experiences. That's right, I've had three encounters of the close kind. All three happened when I was in college. I should add, none of those experiences were enhanced by any recreational chemicals so prevalent on campuses then... and now.

Trash Bag UFO

Encounter One: Strange Lights I personally never saw the strange lights hovering over the campus, but I knew people who did. For a few days talk of the lights was all the rage. They were rumored to appear just after dark. I made a couple of rooftop excursions with friends. We didn't see any UFOs, but at least it was a diversion from studying... which was good enough for me. Apparently, the lights just hovered in the sky. Some saw one light, some saw a group of lights. It remained a mystery until one of the lights "crashed." Turned out to be a prankster or group of pranksters who fashioned miniature hot-air balloons out of garbage bags, and launched them in the same manner as Japanese sky lanterns. The flame at the bottom created the mysterious light and kept the contraption airborne. As I heard it, their first effort was an experiment with one balloon, but the fact that it attracted attention inspired the perpetrators to expand their efforts. Mystery solved.

Encounter Two: A Cover-Up My roommate during my sophomore year was a level-headed guy. He was, in fact, the president of our dormitory's student government group (I understand it's debatable any politician could be level-headed, but let's move on anyway). One night he raced into our room and announced he had just seen a UFO. Mr. Levelhead went into great detail describing the thing, and said he was convinced it was the real deal. According to him it had a flashing light, moved in three dimensions, turned at right angles and changed direction rapidly. He finally decided it should be reported, so he called the Campus Police (not exactly the FBI, but again I digress). He gave them a description in great detail. When pressed further about the object's appearance he said, "I guess you could say it looked kind of like a helicopter with a strobe light." The next day, much to our initial delight, the story appeared in the campus newspaper (never in danger of winning a Pulitzer). The writers there checked the campus police logs daily and got the story from my roommate's report. It pretty much followed his description of the object and the way it moved, but we were a bit surprised when we read the last line: "Authorities determined the object was a helicopter with a strobe light." If that's not proof of a cover-up, I don't know what is.

Encounter Three: Contact! Then there was the night my friend Carl (That's his real name. This is, after all, non-fiction) came running down the hall banging on doors yelling that he had seen a flying saucer. Carl was not a levelheaded guy. It seems he and his girlfriend had been out in a remote area... uh... collecting plant samples for biology class... nocturnal plants. "We saw it land," he assured us. Well, it was either keep studying or save the world from space aliens, a no brainer. So a few of us grabbed cameras and headed for the hinterlands. We soon found ourselves on farmland a few miles outside of town. It was a moonless night and pitch black. Good thing we remembered cameras. Too bad we forgot flashlights. We spread out to search the area. I headed for a dim light which turned out to be some kind of outbuilding. I stumbled up to the side of it, felt my way along to a corner, rounded it and... There wasn't enough light to see how big the spaceship actually was. I could see it was made of metal and had rounded edges. Even though it was completely dark, the thing almost gleamed in front of me. I froze. I couldn't hear any of my friends who were out there somewhere hunting the amazing thing I had found. It was just me and the space aliens. I didn't know what to do, so I just stood and stared. As I did my eyes became more accustomed to the dark. Gradually I could see more of it until I saw its entire shape. No space alien was going to get me. Boldly I walked up to it and smacked it with my open palm. It made the metallic ping I had expected. Suddenly I heard one of my buddies yell and ask if I had found anything. I smacked it again. "Naw," I said, "just this propane tank." Can't fool me, no sir.

So that's where my Masonic research has taken me lately: to sites linking us with space aliens — and fuzzy memories of encounters long past. I think I'll resolve to sticking to the first few hits on Google searches. You never really find much worthwhile on page 27. But I am happy to know about the hexagon on Saturn, which is, in fact, very real. That's cool.

The Gift

Dr. Gibbon W. "Gib" Carson

Grand Commander, Knights Templar,

Missouri, 1908

Thursday, September 26, 1929, the annual communication of the Grand Lodge of Missouri culminated with a formal dinner in the third floor dining hall of the new Masonic Temple in St. Louis.  Four hundred guests had gathered there to honor Dr. Gibbon W. Carson and his wife Betty on their fiftieth year of marriage.

Brother Carson, then 75, was a St. Louis area physician who had held many posts and committee chairmanships in Missouri Freemasonry, most notably having been Past Grand High Priest, Past Grand Illustrious Master and Past Grand Commander of the Grand York Rite bodies in Missouri.  In short, he was a well respected fixture in the fraternity.

In the ceremony after the dinner, John Q. Brown,  Commander of St. Aldemar Commandery, presented a gift to the Carsons on behalf of those in attendance.  It was a small purse containing $1,000 – fifty $20 gold pieces, one gold coin for each year the couple had been married.

Even today a gift of $1,000 would be a significant gesture of appreciation.  In 1929, however, that amount of money had substantially more buying power than it does now.  According to the United States Bureau of Labor Statistics inflation calculator, the present-day value of $1,000 in 1929 makes that an equivalent gift of nearly $15,000. Today the gold in each of those coins would have a "melt value" of about $1,300, or a total of $65,000.

Moreover, assuming the Brothers presented the Carsons with gold coins of that era, most likely the St. Gaudens $20 gold piece, today's numismatic value of those coins (in average circulated condition) would be a minimum of $800,000!

Of course, as we Freemasons would say, the gift was given "not for its intrinsic value or worth," but as a gesture of appreciation for the Carsons' service to the fraternity.  Still, it's enticing to speculate what the Carsons, who had no surviving children at the time, might have done with the treasure.

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.

An Interesting Parallel

Notice: For the next few minutes, put your politics aside. This is published without comment as a scenario from the past with an interesting parallel to today's current events. Once you have read it, take three deep breaths and count to ten before taking it to FaceBook, Twitter, or other anti-social media platform of choice. Thank you. You may now continue reading the article.

The week of February 19-24, 1947, Freemasons convened in Washington, DC, for a series of combined meetings. On Friday of that week, Frank Land, the founder of DeMolay, arranged for a select group of Brothers, mostly Grand Masters, to meet with President Truman. The meeting was more than a formality, given Truman's interest in Masonic affairs.

Truman greeted the Brothers in the Oval Office, beginning with some informal chit-chat and pointing out some of the items there. He said he was somewhat preoccupied, having just received notice his mother, 94-year-old Martha Ellen Young Truman, had fallen and broken her hip.

The group got down to business and the subject of Truman's impending trip to Mexico came up. Masonic relations between Mexico and the US were good, but there were still issues needing to be ironed out. Chief among those were concerns about some of the Spanish Ritual translations. In addition there were Masonic divisions within Mexico itself.

Truman was to meet with Mexico's President Miguel Alemán Valdés.  Alemán was a member of City of Mexico Lodge No. 35 and also a Scottish Rite Mason. They asked Truman if he would arrange for himself and Alemán to meet with a group of Mexican Freemasons in the interest of harmony.

Truman declined, saying his agenda was full. "The sole purpose of my trip," he told them, "is to discuss how to patch up the holes in the Mexico-USA border."