St. Patrick's Day

Every school kid learns March 17 is the day we celebrate the life and deeds of Maewyn Succat, the second Bishop of Ireland, who is better known as Ireland's Patron Saint, St. Patrick. Those same school kids also learn Patrick's great triumph was chasing the snakes out of Ireland. It's true, there are no snakes in Ireland; however, that's more likely because there have never been any snakes on the isolated island.

Captured and taken into slavery as a youth, Maewyn, a.k.a. Patrick, escaped to the European mainland. While a slave he had converted from paganism to Christianity, and once on the continent, he sought refuge at Marmoutier Abbey, a French monastery. There, he accepted his calling, which was to convert other pagans to Christianity. With that, he returned to Ireland and became very successful at making those conversions. In a manner of speaking, the "serpents" he figuratively chased from Ireland were the pagan Druids, not actual reptiles.

After a successful ministry, Patrick retired to County Down, where he died on March 17, 461 A.D. Although never officially canonized by the Catholic Church he is, in fact, recognized as a saint; and today we celebrate the Feast of St. Patrick, or St. Patrick's Day, on the anniversary of his death.

However, even in Ireland prior to the late 18^th century, St. Patrick's Day was not that big of a deal. The same was true in North America, where the churches in Boston, with its large Irish population, didn't recognize the day until 1737.

"So, what," you may ask, "does this have to do with the Freemasons?"

About twenty years later, during the French-Indian War, a young Masonic Colonel recognized the morale among his troops was low and decided they needed what today we would call some "down time." It was March, at the end of a long, brutal winter and many of the troops were Irish. It didn't take the Colonel long to figure out the best day to declare a general holiday would be St. Patrick's day.

Several years later, that same Freemason, now a general in the American Revolution, faced a very similar problem. Billeted at Morristown, New Jersey, his troops were discouraged after a long winter of devastating fighting and losses. On top of that, the preceding winter of 1779-80 was brutally cold. That General, George Washington, again had many Irish troops under his command and once again he saw the opportunity of celebrating St. Patrick's Day to boost morale. With that, Washington issued the order giving his troops their first day off in over two years, “The General directs that all fatigue and working parties cease for to-morrow the SEVENTEENTH instant, a day held in particular regard by the people of [Ireland].”

The respite from the ravages of war and winter went over well with the troops, some of whom were said to celebrate with a "hogshead of rum." Washington is credited with establishing the first instances of a secular celebration of St. Patrick's day, a tradition which caught on and has grown to become a major event today, with the hogshead of rum long replaced by freely flowing green beer.

POW/MIA Bracelets

Contrary to public opinion, especially today's unenlightened public opinion, many Vietnam war protests were at their foundation about and in support of the soldiers over there fighting that war. As the war was winding down people began to realize that, while we were about to get our precious young men and women out of there, some might be left behind. We knew there would remain many prisoners of war and also those unaccounted-for and missing.

The North Vietnam government, on the brink of taking over the entire country, had never been communicative about the status of those soldiers; and we had no reason to believe that would change. The prospect of the unified Democratic Republic of Vietnam (actually not democratic and not a republic) controlling the entire country and keeping POWs and MIAs seemed possible, even likely.

That terrifying thought morphed into a movement designed to ensure the POWs and MIAs be remembered and eventually brought home. As a symbolic gesture many of us wore a metal bracelet containing the name of a missing or captive soldier and vowed not to take it off until that soldier or, sadly, his body returned home. My bracelet was in honor and support of Colonel Kenneth Fleenor; Carolyn's bore the name of Major Terry Uyeyama.

Colonel Kenneth Robert Fleenor's F-4 Phantom fighter jet was shot down December 17, 1967 near Hanoi. During his captivity he endured torture, isolation and starvation. After a grueling five years and three months of imprisonment, Colonel Fleenor was released in March 1973. He completed a successful military and business career, retiring from the US Air Force as a Brigadier General. He also served as Mayor of Selma, Texas 1987-1994. He died December 10, 2010 at 81 years of age.

Air Force Major Terry Uyeyama was forced to eject from his plane May 18, 1968, and was captured and taken prisoner of war. He endured the same punishment and torture as other prisoners for nearly five years. A Silver Star recipient, he returned to the US March 14, 1973, and retired from the Air Force in 1980 with the rank of Colonel. Born July 16, 1935 Colonel Uyeyama is now nearly 85 years of age, living in Texas.

Today the Department of Defense still lists 1,587 Americans as missing and unaccounted-for from the Vietnam War. Nonetheless, in March 1973, Carolyn and I both were able to remove our bracelets. They have sat on the desk in my office at home ever since.

Clash of the Titans

I've written a few articles here about an incredible Brother who, in my opinion, was the 20^th century's "Mason of the century." Most Worshipful Brother Ray V. Denslow was General Grand High Priest of the General Grand Chapter during the WWII years. He was the founder of the Royal Arch Mason magazine and served as its editor and publisher from 1942 until his death in 1960, at which time his son William, author of 10,000 Famous Freemasons, took over. Ray Denslow was also the world's foremost authority on international Freemasonry, and published the only complete account of the near-destruction of the Craft in Europe in the years leading up to WWII and its reconstruction following the war.

Those accomplishments are only the tip of the iceberg in Brother Denslow's Masonic resume. He was almost certainly the most famous Freemason in the world at the time, with the single exception of his good friend Harry Truman.

The shortcomings of each of us are borne out in the fact that our rough ashlars will remain so. We as Freemasons work daily toward the goal of the perfect ashlar, which seems always to lie just outside our grasp. The same was true even of a Mason of the stature of Ray Denslow. Immersed in human frailties, he had his share of doubts, conflicts, and battles… and one of those battles went supernova when the two most powerful Freemasons in the country went head-to-head. Their feud lasted for years, in an ugly fight in which Denslow was ultimately stripped of the 33°.

Denslow documents this brutal hostility in his memoirs, albeit from his own point of view; but he lays out the facts objectively enough that we can see both sides of the story. This account is spread over many pages as he tells of issues that cropped up over time. As a result, reading the books, it is difficult to see the intense impact of the story.

So I decided to take each of those incidents and compile them into an article. I intended it for the Freemason magazine here in Missouri and instead of just submitting it, I met personally with the editor and told him, "This is hot stuff. If you review it and decide it shouldn't go into the magazine, I will understand." So the editor reviewed and accepted the story. It was destined to be published for all the world to see.

A couple weeks later, I got a friendly phone call from the Grand Master. He said he liked the article. Then he said, "Steve… Steve… you know we can't publish this." I knew. And just as I had told the editor, I understood.

So I went to work on a revision. I toned some things down and threw in the standard disclaimer saying the article did not necessarily reflect the views of the Grand Lodge, the Missouri Lodge of Research, the Grand Line officers, the magazine, God or any individuals living or dead. By this time there was a new Grand Master. I met with him. He reviewed the article and gave it his blessing to be published. So the on-again-off-again publication of this hot potato was on again.

Then, I met with the Denslows themselves – Ray's granddaughter and grandson, and we talked about the issue. Not surprisingly, they saw things from Ray's point of view. I realized the publication of the article might embarrass or even alienate them after they had been so good in working with me as I edited his memoirs… and I didn't want that. In addition, let's face it, the whole episode was not Freemasonry's finest hour. So I called the new Grand Master and we once again decided not to publish the article. It's not like the story has never been told. I've just never heard it told correctly or completely.

So what to do with this thing? Well, here's what we're going to do. This September at Chicago Masonicon, I'll lay out the whole grisly story. What Denslow did that so offended the Scottish Rite that it yanked his 33°. Who his great and powerful nemesis was, and how this clash of the titans came to its imperfect resolution. I won't publish it, but at that meeting we'll sit down and talk about it… just you and me.