Peggy Sue and the Freemasons

 

In the 1986 movie Peggy Sue Got Married, Kathleen Turner plays an adult who attends her high school reunion, suffers from a major case of the vapors, and is transported back in time. She lands back in 1960, when she was a high school senior, with a chance to start anew, correct old mistakes, and perhaps make a few new ones.

During the ensuing do-wop-laced couple of hours, Peggy Sue reassesses her early relationship with her boyfriend-become-husband/ex-husband Charlie, played by Nicholas Cage. She forms a friendship with an ostracized high school geek and plants his turbocharged brain with coming attractions like the moon landing and gizmos such as microwave ovens, pocket calculators, and digital watches he could invent to become rich and famous. Then, as an inspired young inventor herself, she manufactures the world's first pair of pantyhose.

After her requisite fling with a laconic motorcycle-riding rebel-with-a-cause-poet, she runs off to visit her time-warp resurrected grandparents. There, she comes clean about her time-traveling escapade.

"Grandma… Grandpa… I want to tell you something. Somehow, I've traveled back in time from my late 30s, when I'm married with two children… And I miss my kids and want to go back."

The understanding Gram and Gramps believe her. So, what's a gal to do in order to time-hop back to the future without a DeLorean? I'm glad you asked. Grandpa has the solution. He'll hustle her off to his Lodge where they have just the ceremony for that.

They arrive at the Lodge building which on the outside is a conical structure resembling a Crazy Cup Ice Cream stand, but on the inside is almost certainly a genuine Masonic Lodge, replete with dozens of grayscale portraits of real-life Past Masters… just like the ones in your Lodge. The wide-eyed Peggy Sue has a question for Granddad.

"What does Grandma think you do at these meetings?"

"Stag parties and poker games," quips Gramps. Well, there goes one of our secrets.

The Brothers are suited in royal-purple robes with gold-colored fringe and embroidery. Accessories include a cornucopia of hats. What appear to be more lower-ranking Brothers wear black drooping Renaissance hats while others have elaborate royal-purple pyramid shaped headgear. Gramps, probably being something like a Past Poo-Bah, has a purple rectangular block-shaped headpiece with what appear to be four doorknobs on the top corners.

Peggy Sue gasps, "Grandpa, do you have to wear that hat?"

Gramps adjusts the hat moving it to the perfect position, "Wouldn't be a Lodge without hats." Another secret revealed.

Inside the Lodge room, the head Muckety-Muck sits in a familiar setting behind a podium elevated to a level three steps up. Opposite him, we see the customary sight of two columns. Not surprisingly, an altar stands in the center of the room.

A Brother informs Peggy Sue the Lodge was founded by a time-traveler (as was my own Lodge, but I digress). The ceremony begins with the resident musician playing Beautiful Dreamer on a mandolin. A Brother steps to the altar, breaks an egg into a chalice, and completes the concoction with an elixir of red goop. He follows this with the sign of the degree which is thus made: the hands are crossed palm-inward in front of the face with the thumbs touching the nose. The hands are then flapped vigorously with the Brother staring upward, symbolic of a prospective time-traveler flying off to a new epoch. The gesture draws a snicker from Peggy Sue – a reaction we may all have seen from our wives during open ceremonies. Three raps from the symbolic East brings the already standing Brothers to order as he enjoins the "Lord of the Universe, Ruler of Light, King of the Sun" to guide Peggy Sue, clad in a gold robe, forward in time.

Peggy Sue has doubts, "This is not going to work." Grandpa reassures her.

Chaos reigns as the scene fills with thunder and lightning. The Lodge goes dark, Peggy Sue disappears and when the light returns a Brother yells, "Let's play cards!"

Any well-educated Mason would recognize the faults in this particular rendition of our Time Travel Ceremony – which is so secret it's something I cannot discuss in this public forum. Of course due to those faults, it did not work. Instead, when the Lodge was dark Charlie (remember Charlie?) swept in, grabbed Peggy Sue, and whisked her away into the stormy night.

I suppose this could morph into a discussion of how the outside world views Freemasonry, but we'll leave that analysis for another time.

Anyway, Charlie drags Peggy into a greenhouse where they are out of the rain, tells her he's a changed guy and begs her to marry him.

Peggy Sue is furious, "What the hell do you think you're doing? I have to go back into the Lodge… My grandfather is in there. And you were never there for me and the children so I'm not crazy enough to marry you twice."

Charlie convinces her things will be different and we fade back to 1986, as Charlie wonders, "What children?"

The adventure culminates with Peggy Sue waking up from her fainting spell, securely back to the future, There, Peggy and her ex-husband reconcile. [aaaawwwwwwwwww] This leaves the door open for Charlie… a.k.a. Nick Cage… a.k.a. Benjamin Franklin Gates… to go off on his own quest where he discovers the Freemasons are the stewards of a great National Treasure.

Freemasonry's Black Hole

 

You have made your journey to the East. Planning for this milestone consumed you. It saturated your life. Thoughts of budgets and programs bloated your brain until there was room for nothing else; and, oh yes, there was that big part you had to memorize. Then you got there. You brought those programs to life. You managed the budget. You were gut-punched by the unexpected. You punched back. You won.

Now your year is coming to an end. Where, you wonder, did the time go? It all went by so quickly. Suddenly you realize you are traveling near lightspeed toward the event horizon… that point of no return… of the great black hole of Freemasonry: life after being Master of your Lodge.

Maybe it doesn't hit you right away. Oh, those first few weeks after your term is over… that sweet era when the responsibility void hits, when the burdens of leadership rest on someone else's shoulders, when you get to go to meetings, plan nothing, do nothing, and wear that sporty new Past Master's apron… is a nirvana reserved for a precious few… the newly minted junior Past Master.

But it's an illusion. You eventually realize you've been sucked into the great void. Oblivion awaits. You can't sit on the north heckling the ritual performance forever. You can only take so much listening to debates about the menu at the next dinner, reading of the minutes and grousing about the outrageous bill to fix the air conditioner. You realize they can do all of this without you. Weeks ago you were the most important guy in the Lodge. Now you are, by your standard, irrelevant. You're not even the top-dog of all the Past Masters. You're at the bottom of the barrel. And like anything that reaches singularity in a black hole, you disappear. Experience shows us it happens to many, possibly the majority of Past Masters. They gradually stop coming to meetings, fade away, and leave us wondering whatever happened to them.

As you try to fight this trend instead of "whence came you," a new question pops up: "whence go you," or more simply, "now what?" The fact is most of us don't want to sit around doing nothing. We need relevance, something to do, a goal, a project, a responsibility, a raison d'être.

Part of your planning as you approach the east should be to figure out what you will do when it's all over. Your Lodge has many needs you can fill: maybe it needs a new Lodge Education Officer, an appointed office filled, a mentor for new initiates, a Lodge historian, someone to take the helm of a civic project or, God forbid, a new Secretary. There are also appendant bodies to consider. The York and Scottish Rites especially offer more opportunities for the Masonic education, fellowship and community service we crave. Grand Lodge committees always need staffing. You might even put together an article for the Midnight Freemasons.

Whatever you do, vow to stay active; and the activities you choose should include those that keep you coming back the foundation of our Fraternity – your Lodge.

The Unfortunate William Dodd

 Born in Lincolnshire in 1729, William Dodd was a vicar's son who became an honor student at the University of Cambridge. He was a man of letters, authoring over 50 books and pamphlets. He subsequently became a doctor of divinity and served as chaplain to King George II as well as a Minister to Magdalene Hospital. Dodd was initiated into the mysteries of Freemasonry April 3, 1775 and a month later he became England's first Grand Chaplain.

As an accomplished author and eloquent orator, Brother Dodd became very popular with the people of England and was well connected with the most important people of his time. He enjoyed moving in the circles of the rich and famous and began to favor the trappings of wealth and society.

His immersion in the lifestyle of the gentry became a near obsession and earned him the title, "the Macaroni Minister." That obscure term relates to people of the day who became deeply involved in the extravagant lifestyle and ate Italian pasta, which was rare and expensive at the time. It is the origin of the first verse in the song Yankee Doodle, originally written to disparage American colonists:

Yankee Doodle came to London riding on a pony,

Stuck a feather in his cap and called it macaroni…

Well, the Macaroni Minister was no Yankee but he certainly became a dandy. Piling on the excesses and luxuries of the life of a member of the British nobility finally became too much for his finances. Dodd incurred heavy debt and exacerbated the situation by trying to gamble his way out of it. His gambling losses simply made things worse.

In 1774, he attempted to bribe his way into a high-paying position, but his scheme was discovered and he was fired from all of his existing positions. A few months later when he joined the Masons, it may just have been an attempt to once again become well connected and begin his journey back up the social ladder.

In need of funds, Dodd forged a bond from the Earl of Chesterfield, then borrowed against it to settle his finances. The plan might have worked, but the banker involved saw a blot on the bond document which obscured some of the text. He rewrote the document and when he took it to the Earl for signature, Dodd's plot was discovered.

Dodd confessed to the crime. Since the banker had acted so quickly, Dodd had spent very little of the money, which enabled him to make full restitution.

Brother Dodd went to trial and based his defense on the fact that this had been an act of indiscretion and that the crime was mitigated by the fact he returned all the money. The jury did not see it that way. Its members convicted him of forgery, which at the time was punishable by death. Even so, the jurors recommended clemency for the popular preacher. Notwithstanding, the judge sentenced Dodd to be hanged. Dodd was so popular, 23,000 people petitioned the King for a pardon, but to no avail.

On June 27, 1777, the day of his execution, the 48 year old Dodd rode in a black mourning coach with his father. On the way to the gallows the coach stopped, as dictated by tradition, at a pub, where Dodd was given a beer. This practice is said by some to be the origin of the term, "one for the road." The guards along with him also received a beer, but the driver of the coach could not partake because he was said to be, "on the wagon."

Another tradition of the time was that stewards at the gallows would take up a collection from the bloodthirsty crowd in attendance. If they collected enough money, the condemned man would be given a short drop in order that he would succumb more slowly and give the spectators a longer, more graphic performance. In spite of his popularity, the crowd anted up enough for the gruesome show.

As Dodd dropped from the scaffold, however, the Lord High Executioner ran down the steps, grabbed Dodd by the legs and pulled him downward to prevent flailing and to "speed things along."

In a bit of irony, Dodd had always been a death penalty opponent. Just earlier that year, he had given an inspiring sermon against it. In addition, he was a big supporter of the Humane Society which at the time was advocating the possibility of reviving those who had been hung, drowned or died under similar circumstances, speculating that even though appearing deceased, a bit of life might remain. Even today the Society's motto is lateat scintillula forsan, meaning “a small spark may perhaps lie hid.”

The fact is, some executions were sloppy enough at the time that this is known to have worked on rare occasions. So as soon as Dodd was cut down his friends rushed to claim his body knowing his neck had not been broken by the short drop. They carried him into the mourning coach and tried to go to the home of Dr. John Hunter to attempt a revival. The crowd reportedly rushed the coach and prevented its exit either to view the body or prevent its transfer, and it is unlikely any attempt at revival occurred. However for years rumors persisted that Dodd was revived and went off to live in France.

Dodd's Brother Richard was Rector of Cowley, which is where reports say Dodd's burial took place. Today, no marker exists for his grave, but a wall plaque says he rests within the cemetery. There is no record of his burial there, which has fueled speculation that he may have survived.

Shortly after his hanging, England changed its penalty for forgery and Dodd remains the last person executed for that crime; and while a minute measure of doubt may remain about him surviving the execution, one thing is for certain: upon hearing of his conviction, the Freemasons immediately expelled the unfortunate William Dodd.

The Woz

 

We live in a world steeped in technology. We run around with our smart phones fused to our hands avoiding human interaction in favor of texts, tweets, and Instagram posts that shout to the entire world "it's all about me." We grab our entertainment from streaming apps like Netflix, Hulu, Peacock and others that weren't around a decade ago. We order Alexa to turn on and off our lights and we drive cars that brake, steer and parallel park for us. Most of us, though, don't know much about the wizards standing behind the curtain who make this magic work.

You may, for example, have never heard of Tim Berners-Lee but you use his invention every day. We call it the World-Wide-Web. I could list others whose names are even more obscure to the general population. But some of these so-called nerds break through and become household names: Bill Gates and Steve Jobs are known around the world.

In that group, there is at least one other name you will know. He was initiated into the mysteries of Freemasonry in 1979. They call him "The Woz."

Steve Wozniak was raised in Charity Lodge 362, now Mt. Moriah Lodge 292 in California. He and that other famous technology pioneer, Steve Jobs, started and built Apple Computer, today recognized as the world's largest company.

Wozniak provided the technical skills needed for designing the circuitry for the first Apple computer, and together in 1976, he and Jobs personally built about 200 units in in a garage-shop operation. Each of those Apple I computers sold for $666.66, raising some eyebrows, but The Woz always claimed he chose that price because he liked repeating numbers, knowing nothing about its symbolism.

The following year, Wozniak designed and built the Apple II which together with improved models in the 1980s is now regarded as the first truly successful personal computer. For those early machines that launched Apple, Jobs' role was marketing and it was Steve Wozniak who provided the design and innovation. Many of his ideas were born of the fact that he knew what features he personally wanted in a computer and, since those computers didn't exist, he had to invent them. In describing his motivation, he once said, "I had two things going for me: I had no money and no training."

Wozniak married Alice Robertson in 1976. She was a member of the Eastern Star. As the marriage gradually became troubled, Steve thought if he joined the Masons with its associations to the Star, it would provide an opportunity to spend more time with Alice and might help their relationship. He subsequently joined Charity Lodge. The plan didn't work. Just a short time later the relationship fell apart. The couple divorced and with that Wozniak's participation in the Craft ended. It's likely his membership was more a commitment to attempting to save his marriage than to Freemasonry, especially when we factor in the fact that he has on occasion claimed to be an agnostic.

Years ago, when asked about his thoughts on Freemasonry, he had this to say: "A lot of things about me don't get filtered. My wife at the time, in the early Apple days, was in Eastern Star. I thought if I became a Freemason I could go to more events with her. I did become a Freemason and know what it's about but it doesn't really fit my tech/geek personality. Still, I can be polite to others from other walks of life. After our divorce was filed I never attended again but I did contribute enough for a lifetime membership. There is nothing wrong with the Freemasons."

In his personal life, Wozniak supports a multitude of charities, many tech related and aimed at youth development including the Tech Museum, the Children's Discovery Museum of San Jose, and his local school's technology program. He opened his own home to help start the Dream Camp Foundation for underprivileged youth, now better known as "Camp Woz." He is known as a generous donor who gives with no strings attached. He also, unlike Steve Jobs, remembered early Apple employees who did not stay with the company and lost out on millions of dollars. To that group, in 1980, he personally donated ten million dollars of his own Apple stock.

Later in life, Brother Wozniak went back to school and received a degree in electrical engineering from the University of California at Berkley. By the time he enrolled, he was so famous, he registered under an alias that reflected his well-known sense of humor. That alias is now the name that appears on his college degree: Rocky Raccoon Clark.

So, by his own words, he has no opposition to the Craft. In spite of his lack of enthusiasm and uncertain belief in a deity, he does, in fact remain a Brother. We'll leave it at that and without judgment ask, how many other members do you know who have long since become inactive or question their spirituality?

Steve Wozniak has contributed greatly through his inventions and has used his resources to benefit those less privileged than himself. In this amazing world of technology we live in it's safe to say we have all benefited in some small or even significant way from his pioneering work and for those accomplishments we are proud to call him Brother.

Put The Cart Before The Horse

 

I have attended and even spoken at a number of large, auspicious Masonic Meetings. A few of them have been so amazing, educational, well-produced, and fraternal that I will never forget them. Among these are the Masonic Roundtable's 300^th anniversary celebration at the George Washington National Masonic Memorial, a York Rite symposium in Iowa where I had the honor of sharing the program with Harry Truman's grandson Clifton Truman Daniel, the annual Grand Master's breakfast in St. Louis, and my own Missouri Lodge of Research's Truman Lectures. These have all been gargantuan Masonic gatherings sometimes with hundreds… yes hundreds… of Brothers in attendance.

A huge crowd is a wonderful part of sharing Masonic Fellowship. In these large gatherings I've had occasion to visit with Brothers from not just other jurisdictions, but even other countries, providing opportunities to compare and share the precious diversity within our craft. Large crowds of Brothers are uplifting and inspiring but, make no mistake, an audience of dozens, or hundreds, is not a prerequisite, for a great Masonic event.

For example, just a few weeks ago I attended yet another one of those auspicious meetings I will never forget – but only about 23-25 Brothers were there. I was honored to be the guest speaker at Homer Lodge 199 in Homer, Illinois. Homer is a small, rural Lodge and by its member's own admission, attendance is not what it should be. To put it in Senior Warden Darin Lahner's words, "we normally are struggling to make a quorum."

Darin documented the full extent of this meeting from its conception to planning to execution in a thorough account in a recent Midnight Freemasons article. To read the full story, search for "A Night to Remember" on the blog.

Darin outlines the steps he took to create a successful event that more than tripled the attendance in his Lodge. I'd like to share those with you. "The funny thing is," said Darin, "it really wasn't that hard to do. To start with, I heavily advertised on social media. I started an Eventbrite event page to get a count of how many would be coming in." I'll come back to those two items in just a minute.

Darin continued with the steps in what he calls a "simple recipe:"

1. Get your lodge's buy-in. That shouldn't be hard to do, but what you're really looking for is a space for the event. If not your Lodge, there's got to be another one close with suitable space.

2. Arrange a speaker. One of the best places to go is the site masonicinstruction.com, which not only lists available speakers, but gives their biographies and summarizes their speaking topics.

3. Plan the event. Pretty self explanatory. This probably will involve a dinner which can be as elaborate as you want, or maybe just ordering in pizza.

4. Finally, hold the event. According to Darin, if you build it, Brethren will come.

The process sounds a lot like the "old-timey" definition of management: plan, organize, activate, control.

I'd like to expand a little on the first two things Darin did. He said he advertised heavily on social media, and started an Eventbrite page.

I've seen events fail where Brothers swear they promoted the event. What did they do? They posted it on FaceBook. Brothers , that's not enough. The key word Darin used is that he advertised it "heavily." FaceBook posts are a dime a dozen – or actually a dime a million. So however you promote the event, become a promotion Ninja.

The next thing Darin did was to set up an Eventbrite page. If you're not familiar with Eventbrite, learn about it and do it. This will more or less get commitments from people to attend.

And I'd like to add a dash of spice to Darin's recipe: Put the cart before the horse.

I know of a Lodge that practices this and they swear it's a sure thing. They do as much pre-planning as possible and come up with a couple of dates, then find out if Brothers are available on those dates. They then tentatively select a speaker and see when he is available. After a bit of coordination they find a good time for the event. Then, they sell tickets to the event, moderately priced to cover the cost of a meal. And only when they have sold enough tickets do they launch the event. In this lodge's case, they also limit attendance to 25 Brothers, and they sell out every time.

In other words, they sell-out the event, then plan the event. Not the way we usually do things. With the way he used Eventbrite, the is close to what Darin did.

Maybe using that old management definition you might say what they do is plan, organize, control, and activate. It might be something you could try. Follow Darin's advice and plan one of those unforgettable events. But see if it doesn't work better when you put the cart before the horse.

 

I Was Second

Anticipation consumed me as I sat in the large dining area with my father. A voice from a man I did not know came out of the hallway to my right and bellowed, "It's time, let's go." The room, filled with about 40 others, began to clear. Each got up, including Dad, and stood in line in front of a log book on a counter and signed in. Within minutes there were only four of us left in that empty room.

I sat in eerie silence with two other guys I didn't know at the long table where I had eaten breakfast. The fourth guy in the room was, we learned, the Tyler. He introduced himself. He joked, told us stories, and tried to put us at ease. I was not at ease. It wasn't because I was concerned about what I was going to go through, but because I wanted to get right to it. Time drug. In fact, it seemed to stop altogether. What were they doing in that Lodge room that was taking so long?

Finally, a guy stuck his head around the corner to my left and called out, "Randy!"

Rats. I wasn't going to be first. He took Randy away. More joking with the Tyler. More waiting. Eternity came and went. Finally, the same guy appeared at the corner to my left. I said a small prayer: "Make him say my name. Please make him say my name…"

"Steve."

Prayer answered, I leaped up and followed him into a place that was more a closet than a room. The three guys in there helped me put on a pair of… well… pajamas. They took a gold cross I wore on a chain around my neck, replaced it with a cord of some sort, slipped a sandal on me and then in their haste apparently forgot to put on the other one. After they blindfolded me, the main guy, followed by the other two, escorted me to a set of double doors, knocked and announced my presence. After a small wait, I was, for the first time in my life, in an open Masonic Lodge room.

I went through the degree, trying to soak it all in. I learned the lack of a second sandal was not a mistake. I learned why they took the gold chain from me. But it was like drinking from a fire hose. Other things I had experienced… well… I had questions.

They took me back out of the Lodge room, had me put on my street clothes, took me back in and we wrapped things up. It was amazing that the degree that seemed to take so long while I was waiting had passed in a flash. Parts of the degree swirled through my head as I tried to remember everything I had been through.

Then, suddenly, as they sat me on the sidelines, I realized there would be another degree for the poor guy who was still waiting outside, and I would get to see it. I was elated they had called me second, so I could immediately review what I had seen.

There was a knock at the door I had recently passed through. The same three guys walked in with the third candidate. I focused my attention. I hung on every word, every motion, every symbolic allusion. I watched transfixed with my Brothers… my BROTHERS… and tried to absorb it like a dry sponge in water. My Masonic education had begun.

The Dishwasher King

Is a dishwasher one of the appliances in your kitchen? My guess is the answer to that is yes. These days they're almost a universal part of every household; but your parents or grandparents may not have been so fortunate. The first commercial dishwashers made for home use were unreliable, leaky, temperamental gadgets that most times created more work than they saved.

In a nutshell, they didn't work… until, that is, the Dishwasher King came along.

Sam Regenstrief had quite a track record. Born in eastern Europe in about 1906, he moved to the US with his family two years later. He studied at Indiana University, then transferred to the Baum School of Engineering in Milwaukee, staying there until the school folded. A series of jobs led him to Rex Manufacturing in Connersville, Indiana, where he began to make his mark. Rex, a supplier of steel refrigerator cabinets, was in serious financial trouble. Sam turned the company around and by the age of 29, was running the show. Instead of just manufacturing refrigerator cabinets, he soon had Rex making complete refrigerators and selling them to, among others, Philco. He did such a good job Philco bought Rex and made it a subsidiary with Sam as president.

A few years later most thought Sam, by then a Philco corporate Vice President, was on track to become its President. Instead, in 1958, he left the corporate giant and started his own company, Design and Manufacturing (D&M), in Connersville. There, he earned his Dishwasher King title, transforming the household dishwasher from a piece of near-junk into the modern appliance most of us use today. That alone would be enough, but there is more to his story.

Sam Regenstrief was a Freemason. A member of Warren Lodge #15 in Connersville, he was raised October 28, 1948. Fueled in part by the same strong humanitarian principles inculcated in the Craft, Sammy first provided for his family and then became a generous philanthropist. Among his other endeavors, in 1969, he founded the Regenstrief Institute, an internationally recognized healthcare research facility. In turn, the institute developed the Regenstrief Medical Record System, a progressive, comprehensive patient care data collection system. For this, he has had numerous medical facilities named in his honor. Even when Sam was still at Philco, Brother William Denslow listed him in his iconic work, 10,000 Famous Freemasons.

Brother Sam Regenstrief passed away January 17, 1988. Looking at his accomplishments would not reveal how humble his beginnings really were. Shortly after his birth, a fire destroyed his family records. He never knew what his birthday was and remarkably, he was never sure where he was born (his family has said Romania; Sam himself once wrote he was born in Austria). Throughout his life he proved those things really don't matter that much: the cliché is true – it's not where you start out, but where you end up.

Sam valued his employees highly and maintained a good working relationship with them, including my father. You see, in 1969 he bought the company where my dad worked and served as a corporate officer. He was always warm and congenial with my dad, who called him Sammy. Me? I called him Mr. Regenstrief. Now, years later, I have learned I can also call him Brother.

Washington's Opponent

 

Did you know George Washington was a Freemason? (Gasp). It's true. I'm a little surprised so many of you didn't know that. Anyway, even if you didn't know that you probably know he was the first President of the US; and history tells us he ran virtually unopposed in the election of 1788. Well, the key word is… I guess… "virtually." You see, the constitution stipulated the presidency would go to the person getting the most electoral votes and the vice-presidency would go to the runner up. So the question is, if Washington was the unanimous winner of the election, how could there be a runner up? And if there was a runner up, just how did Washington get all the votes, and doesn't that mean he had an opponent in that election?

AND, if your head isn't spinning by now, get this: Technically, you could say George Washington had ELEVEN opponents in that race. Eleven. See, the key to this puzzle is the fact that each of the 69 electors back then got TWO votes. So the first 69 votes went to Washington and he won a unanimous victory. Then the second set of 69 votes went to a variety of men, with the one garnering the most votes becoming Vice President.

So who were these guys? You can probably guess one of them was John Adams, who received 34 of the remaining 69 votes and became our first Vice President, going on to become the second President.

Robert Harrison (no relation that we know of), Washington's personal military secretary, received six votes.

Also receiving six votes was John Rutledge, who became the second Chief Justice of the US Supreme Court.

John Milton, first Secretary of State of Georgia received two votes. James Armstrong, a Georgia state representative and Edward Telfair, Governor of Georgia, both got a single vote. Georgia was well-represented.

So, Adams, Harrison, Rutledge, Milton, Armstrong, and Telfair account for six of the men receiving electoral votes.

The remaining six, including Washington – half the field – were Freemasons.

John Jay, received nine votes and came in a distant second to Adams for the Vice Presidency. His Masonic status is, in fact, somewhat vague, but it is likely he was a member.

John Hancock, first signer of the Declaration of Independence and first Governor of Massachusetts received four votes.

George Clinton, Governor of New York and Later Vice President got three votes.

Samuel Huntington, 2^nd Grand Master of Ohio and also a Governor of Ohio, received two votes.

Finally, Benjamin Lincoln, ex-officio Secretary of War during the American Revolution, got a single vote.

There was not much of a campaign in that election. It was a foregone conclusion George Washington would win. It is likely each of the 11 also-rans we've talked about had his sights set on the Vice Presidency. Also, although there were no political parties per se, most of the candidates were like-minded Fedralists, favoring a strong federal government. Only Clinton and Telfair were Anti-Federalists, who not only opposed a strong federal government, but also opposed ratification of the constitution. In addition to that, back then it was considered rather undignified for a gentleman to campaign for an office. Some might say that's the opposite of our situation today where being undignified seems seems to be a requirement for public office. One wonders if the aversion to campaigning has something to do with the fact electioneering is frowned upon if not outright banned in many Masonic elections.

Our nation's first election, with a president elected unanimously and votes left over for eleven runners-up. Interestingly, in the inconceivable scenario they would have been elected president or maybe a bit more likely vice president, Harrison, Rutledge, Armstrong, and Brother John Hancock would have died in office.

The Golden Fleece, Roman Eagle, Star and Garter

 

One of the first things a newly initiated Brother learns about Freemasonry is the fact that his apron is, "more ancient than the Golden Fleece or Roman Eagle, and more honorable than the Star and Garter." The new initiate, who even in the Entered Apprentice Degree, kneels stunned and overwhelmed by an avalanche of information may just let that blow past him. It's not a real stretch to think many of our new Brothers have never heard of those things.

The point is to impress on the EA that his apron is the valuable, treasured, and even sacred badge of a Freemason. Knowing the… provenance… of those terms, however, makes the claim of the apron's worth even more meaningful.

The Golden Fleece is, in fact, the fleece of a golden-winged ram named Chrysomallos. The fleece itself is a symbol of the authority of a king. It plays a major role in the myth of Jason and the Argonauts. In that ancient tale, Pelias, King of the Greek city or Provence Iolcus, sends Jason on a quest where he (spoiler alert) retrieves the Golden Fleece. When he returns home with it, a nasty soap opera of power and intrigue follows. The myth may date as early as 1800 B.C. with more modern versions appearing by 300 B.C. In 1430, Phillip of Burgundy declined to accept the Order of the Garter and Created the Order of the Golden Fleece, based on the story of Jason. It eventually became the most prestigious of all the knightly orders in Europe.

It may be easier for the new Brother to conjure up a mental picture and meaning of the Roman Eagle. It is, in fact… an eagle, or, in Latin, aquilla. Usually cast in metal with a bronze color, it commonly sits with wings spread, many times perched above a plate engraved with the letters "SPQR," standing for Senatus Populesque Romanus – The Senate and the Roman People. In ancient Rome the eagle symbolized many things including imperial rule, but probably most significantly it was the symbol of a Roman military legion. Special standard bearers carried the eagle on a staff into battle and protected it with their lives. The loss of an eagle in battle was considered a grave tragedy. Early in the history of Rome, several animals served symbolically along with the aquilla, but by about 100 B.C. the eagle remained as the single national symbol.

The significance of the Star and Garter is much more obscure to someone unfamiliar with it. The reference is actually to The Most Noble Order of the Garter, an honor King Edward III established in England in 1348, and dedicated it to the Virgin Mary. It is the highest British civil and military honor. The King or Queen has the exclusive power to select its members. Membership includes England's sovereign, the Prince of Wales and 24 additional living members. Honorary memberships are also available apparently in order to minimize hurt feelings among the gentry. Members actually wear a garter – men around the left calf and women around the left arm – inscribed, "Honi soit qui mal y pense," a middle-French term meaning, "Shame on him who thinks evil of this." They also wear a star-shaped badge on the left side of a coat.

When our ritual compares the Masonic apron to the Golden Fleece or Star and Garter, it is most likely a direct reference to the honors of the orders named for them, dating back to the 14^th and 15^th centuries respectively. It must be left to Masonic historians to determine which of all of these is more ancient, but, for our purposes, there is no reason to doubt the correctness of our ritual.

The claim that a Freemason's apron is more honorable than the Star and Garter puts it in high standing indeed. While the Order of the Garter remains today a prestigious award, and has been held by many great individuals including some Brothers like Winston Churchill, it is also based on nepotism and given to some who have done nothing more deserving than to be born into the right family. It demands unswerving loyalty to England's monarch and in many instances has been revoked. In fact, it may interest you to know that no less than 36 Knights of the Garter have been beheaded.

The DDGL

 

It was a Lodge's nightmare… both the District Deputy Grand Lecturer and Regional Grand Lecturer were in attendance. Also a visitor at that meeting, I sat next to the two dignitaries and thought, "The officers better be on their toes. This could get ugly."

It went better than I expected but at one point during the meeting the DDGL leaned over to the RGL and whispered, "The Senior Warden said, 'You will advance to the West and communicate the password...' It should be, 'You will approach the West...' Should we stop them and say something?"

The RGL shook his head, "No… they got there."

I'm with the RGL: I am not a hard-core ritualist – and that's blasphemy in some circles. Don't get me wrong. I like a well-done ritual as much as the next guy; but I care more about whether the ceremony comes off well than if a Brother says "this" when he should say "that." I know… I'll never be a DDGL.

And don't even get me started on the guys in the "peanut gallery" who start yelling out the next line any time the speaker has more than a two-second pause. I'm not alone in that. I've been in Lodge when the Master appointed a proctor with the admonition, "I don't want to hear a word out of anyone else." I'm big on proctors.

I bring all this up because each year my Lodge tests for one of the ritual awards my Grand Lodge sponsors. The District Deputy Grand Lecturer attends and grades us on our opening and closing. The last time we did this the guys were well-practiced and the ceremony went like clockwork.

I just sat there thinking how enjoyable it is to be in any of our ceremonies – especially degree work – when things just click along. That, as opposed to the living hell of sitting through the same thing when the speakers are ill-prepared and have to be prompted on every line. Sitting through an opening like that is the only time I actually look forward to getting to the reading of the minutes.

So, congrats to my Brothers at Liberty Lodge #31. They got the award.

Oh, there were mistakes. There are ALWAYS mistakes. I knew our perfect score was gone as the Chaplain, asking God to subdue our discordant passions, prayed, "Grant that the sublime principles of Freemasonry may so subdue every insubordinate passion within us…"

See, I just let that roll right off my back. In fact, I thought it was kind of funny. Unfortunately, the DDGL – you know, the guy keeping score – was not amused.

Masonic Weddings

An interesting item crossed my desk a few years ago when I was editor of the Missouri Freemason magazine. It was an article a Brother submitted for inclusion in the magazine giving the account of a man in the St. Louis area who had a few weeks before been raised to the sublime degree of Master Mason. Then, just a few days afterward, that Brother and his fiancee were married in the same Lodge room where he received his degrees.

An ordained pastor who was a member of another Lodge in the area conducted the ceremony, which was attended by members of the families of both the bride and groom, their friends, and many of the Brethren from the Lodge.

I had been in the Lodge room where the ceremony took place and have always considered it to be one of the most attractive and well-appointed Lodge rooms I have ever seen. Just knowing that I knew it must have been an interesting and beautiful setting for a wedding.

Going through the article raised my curiosity. I wondered how rare a wedding in a Masonic Lodge might be, so I consulted that great oracle of all truth and knowledge – the internet. Seriously, my quest for information about Masonic weddings and some questions I asked at various online sources yielded some interesting information.

It turns out weddings in Lodges are not very common, but they do take place now and then. And the old Masonic Temple in Detroit bills itself as a high-end wedding venue whether or not the couple has ties to the fraternity.

Weddings in Lodges seem to have been more common in the past and also more common in Europe. French brothers who responded to my inquiries said they frequently have a "conjugal recognition" ceremony, which is not actually a wedding

I also learned some jurisdictions require dispensation before allowing such ceremonies. If they are allowed one advantage of holding a wedding in a Lodge is that it might be a much more economical venue than some of the ritzy places where I've attended weddings. Save the money for the honeymoon.

Finally, one brother sent me a the full text of a Masonic wedding or recognition ceremony from Turkey, which seemed nearly book length. Not being one for long ceremonies I decided if I'm ever invited to a Masonic wedding there, I might just skip the ceremony and head for the reception.

The Attic

 

In 2021, the Grand Lodge of Missouri celebrates its 200^th anniversary, with events throughout the year marking the milestone occasions that brought it into existence. Some of those events will be held in St. Louis, very close to the spot where our Brothers of two centuries ago gathered in a simple, unremarkable room to begin that journey.

In 1816, General William Clark (of the Lewis and Clark Expedition) built what was one of only a few brick houses in St. Louis. Clark used the lower floor for business. Missouri Lodge 12, with its Tennessee charter, met in a room on the second story there from the time Clark completed the house until late 1817. Masons described the house as "poorly adapted for Masonic purposes and inconveniently located." They approached Brother Thompson Douglass, who was constructing a two-story building in the center of town, and persuaded him to add an attic, which the Masons could use. Were that building standing today where it stood in 1817, at its spot in the center of old St. Louis, it would be directly under the gleaming Gateway to the West monument, better known as the St. Louis Arch.

Upon its completion, the Masons moved into the room, which was thirty-eight feet on each side, to conduct their business. There they also founded Missouri Royal Arch Chapter No. 1, and, in 1821, organized the Grand Lodge of Missouri, chartering what today is St. Louis Missouri Lodge 1.

Frederick L. Billon was raised at the age of twenty-two in that very room. Born in 1801, Billon lived to be 94 years of age in a life that spanned virtually all of the 19th century. He served as Missouri's Grand Secretary for many years and thoroughly chronicled Missouri Masonry during that time. In his memoirs, he talks about one particular meeting in that third-story room which he attended on Friday April 29, 1825.

That evening, the young Brother, still a relatively new Mason, ascended the creaky wooden stairs and as he entered the Lodge room, he discovered two visitors. In Billon's words, "we were honored by a visit from our Nation's distinguished guest, our illustrious Brother General Lafayette, on the occasion of his visit to St. Louis, accompanied by his son George Washington Lafayette, on which occasion they were both duly elected Honorary members of our Grand Lodge." The United States had invited the 68-year-old French aristocrat, who had supported our country and commanded American troops in the Revolution, to tour the country.

Billon writes, "This room was used for Masonic purposes… until the close of the year 1833, when Missouri Lodge No. 1, under the pressure of circumstances, ceased her labors for a time, and the Grand Lodge was removed to Columbia Boone County." The so-called "pressure of circumstances" he mentions is a euphemism for the brutal aftermath of the Morgan affair.

For sixteen years that nondescript room provided an auspicious venue for the formation of the Grand Lodge of Missouri and served as its Grand Lodge offices. It also saw the formation of Missouri's first Lodge, the first Missouri Royal Arch Chapter, was a reception room for the great Lafayette, hosted the ceremony honoring him, and saw countless other Masonic ceremonies and events – all this in an attic that was conceived as an afterthought.

That little room is graphic proof that it doesn't matter where Brothers meet whether in a small attic or the spacious Masonic Complex that now houses the Grand Lodge of Missouri; but what does matter is how how Freemasons meet, act and part.

Jimmy Doolittle

 

He was an aviation pioneer, a brilliant MIT graduate who became an expert in the development of more efficient aviation fuel, an air racing champion, an engineer who helped develop instrument flying, a war hero and much more. The name James H. "Jimmy Doolittle" is synonymous with the brand of American hero who has it all – guts, brains and, above all, character.

Born in 1896 in Alameda California, Jimmy Doolittle was a 33° Scottish Rite Mason who was raised in Hollenbeck Lodge 319 in Los Angeles on August 16, 1918. When his high school class attended an air show on a field trip in 1910, Doolittle saw his first airplane and developed a lifetime interest in flying. At the age of 21, he took a leave of absence from his studies at the University of California in Berkley and enlisted in the Signal Corps Reserve as a Flying Cadet, being commissioned as a second lieutenant the following year. He served as a flight instructor during World War I, where his performance led to a commission as a first lieutenant in the Air Service. In 1922, he made one of the first cross-country flights, for which he earned the Distinguished Flying Cross, a ticket to the Air Service Engineering School and eventually a scholarship to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

In the 1030s, Doolittle was Aviation Manager for Shell Oil company where he was instrumental in developing a 100 Octane fuel that, at the time, no aircraft needed. The fuel was expensive and some of the Shell employees called the project "Doolittle's million-dollar blunder."

He returned to active military service in 1940 and, after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, was chosen to plan a retaliatory attack. Subsequently he personally volunteered to lead that attack, taking off from the USS Hornet with several targets in Japan. The Japanese learned of the Hornet's position, forcing the Americans to initiate the attack from a location farther from Japan and jeopardizing the plane's capabilities to travel that far.

On April 18, 1942, Doolittle led sixteen B-25s to Tokyo and other Japanese cities in what is now known as the Doolittle Raid. The raid accomplished its purpose in destroying targets without doing much harm to the Japanese civilian population, but more than that, it put the Japanese on notice that the US was capable of such long-range raids and it greatly boosted US morale.

Critically low on fuel, the B-25s limped onto the Chinese mainland where most landed safely behind friendly lines. Doolittle's heroic action in leading the raid earned him a promotion to General, the Congressional Medal of Honor, and later, the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

The added distance the planes had to fly in the successful Doolittle Raid put many lives in jeopardy, and it became clear the raid would never have been successful except for the fact they carried that 100 Octane fuel Brother Doolittle had himself developed a decade earlier, before any aircraft required it, and without knowing what a significant effect it would have on his and his crews lives many years later. In the end, it seems "Doolittle's million-dollar blunder" paid off after all.

Respect

Years ago, I was working on installing a system in a large metropolitan bank's safekeeping department. The executive offices there were glass-walled and I saw a group inside one standing around something a customer had brought in for storage. I went over for a closer look and saw they were inspecting a violin — a Stradivarius violin. To date myself, this was back when employees could smoke in offices; and there stood one of the execs leaning over the priceless instrument with a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Not only that, the butt had a long trail of ashes on the front which, predictably, dropped onto the violin. He brushed the ashes off and the gang continued gawking. I was stunned they could treat such an incredible piece so carelessly.

Over the years I've had occasion to see some pretty significant Masonic memorabilia. Many times when I've had "hands-on" access I think of that little scenario in the bank and remind myself to take the utmost care with the item.

I've seen many such items at the Truman Library in Independence, Missouri. The staff there "bends over backwards" to dig out documents and artifacts for researchers. White gloves are the order of the day as researchers go through the precious treasure trove of Brother Truman's life.

On one occasion I was there researching the well-documented account of the President's visit to Beech Grove Lodge in Indiana. While on his Whistle-Stop tour in 1948, Truman evaded the press and much of his traveling party to attend a meeting at that Lodge and raise a Brother who worked for him. At the close of the meeting he asked if he could keep the apron he had worn as a souvenir.

As the staff at the Truman Library gathered items relating to that visit, one of the artifacts turned out to be that apron. I was mesmerized as I looked at it. I felt as if I was in the presence of the President himself. Unable to resist, I broke one of the Library's rules. I slipped off my glove and…

I touched it.

I probably shouldn't have done it, but something inside me just wanted that connection with the historic apron. I don't think I hurt it at all. It didn't seem the same as dumping a pile of cremated tobacco onto a Stradivarius. What's more, I'm not sorry. I would do it again — guilty as charged. I didn't do it maliciously.

I did it out of respect.

The Whiskey Barrel

In today's bustling twenty-first century world, millions of people cross the country quickly, comfortably, and without giving it a second thought. During the mid 19th century, people's desire to make that crossing was no less enthusiastic, but the trip was anything but pleasant. Such was the experience of three men who had made their way across the treacherous plains to the west coast town of Oregon City.

These men, Joseph Hull, P.G. Stewart, and William P. Dougherty, Freemasons, hoped to establish a Masonic Lodge in the area. On February 5, 1846, they placed an ad in the Oregon City newspaper calling for members of the Masonic fraternity to meet on February 21, "to adopt some measures to obtain a charter for a Lodge."

On that date, seven Brothers met and crafted a request for a charter from the closest Grand Lodge which, at that time, was in St. Louis, Missouri, over 2,000 miles away. They found a Brother, Joel Palmer, who was headed back east, instructing him to deliver it to the closest Masonic Lodge, Platte City 56, in St. Joseph Missouri.  

Brother Palmer made that Journey during the summer of 1846. Platte City Lodge then delivered the request to the Grand Lodge of Missouri, which granted the charter for Multnomah Lodge 84 on October 19.

The Grand Lodge sent the charter back to Platte City Lodge but it became difficult to find a suitable person to deliver it back to Oregon. Finally, they entrusted the precious document to Pierre Barlow Cornwall, who began the westward journey on April 1, 1848, over two years after the Oregon Brothers made the request.

When Cornwall reached Fort Hall, Idaho in August 1848, he heard about the discovery of gold in California and abandoned any thought of going to Oregon. He entrusted the charter to two Masons he had met along the way, Joseph and Orrin Kellog, then headed out in an attempt to make his fortune. The Kelloggs finally delivered the charter on September 11, 1848, two years and seven months after the initial request.

After all that time with little or no news of its whereabouts, we can only imagine the thrill the Oregon Brothers must have felt receiving that document. Joseph Hull, who became the first Master, was so excited he called a meeting on that very day! The Brothers met at noon on the second floor of a building owned by Dougherty.  The improvised wardens podiums consisted of a barrel of flour in the East, a barrel of whiskey in the West and a barrel of salt pork in the South, symbolically representing corn, wine and oil.

During the next several hours, the Brothers consecrated the Lodge, elected officers, held three Entered Apprentice, three Fellowcraft, and two Master Mason degrees, wrapping things up sixteen hours later.

One cannot help but wonder if, at the end of such an epic journey capped by that auspicious day, those Brothers didn't break open that barrel of whiskey at the Senior Warden's station and toast the establishment of the first Masonic Lodge in the untamed American West.

The Herald

 

A couple years ago I joined the Red Cross of Constantine. It's a Royal Arch body with, shall we say, a bit of a complex degree structure compared to other Masonic organizations. given a year of social distancing I'm still a novice and not well-versed in its organization and practices.

Right after I joined I attended what was only my fourth or fifth meeting. We held the meeting in a local restaurant with a spacious back room well-suited for such purposes. I went in and stopped at a table to talk to the Secretary – I mean, Recorder. (I still don't have a handle on all the officers' titles). As I was talking to him, a couple other guys walked up behind me. It was a trap.

"Steve," they said in unison, "the incoming Sovereign needs a Sentinel for next year. Would you be willing to step in and help him out?"

"Oh, uh," I babbled on about being honored but having commitments and not knowing if I could do justice to the job – and basically anything else I could think of that did not involve the word "yes."

It was three against one. Before I knew what had happened I had agreed to be next year's Sentinel. "Not a big commitment," I told myself, "and I'm helping the Brothers (actually, Knight Companions) out."

That settled, we sat down to open the Chapter – I mean, Conclave. (I still have a lot to learn). It wasn't a standard opening since we were not in a Lodge room, but we went through the verbal part of the ceremony. At one point, there came a series of knocks followed by an uncomfortable silence. A friend seated next to me leaned over and whispered, "Return the knocks… you're the Sentinel."

I whispered back, "I thought that was next year."

"No," he said, "I think you're it now."

I knocked, and the remainder of the opening went off without a hitch. We had our dinner and started the business portion of the meeting. It came to light that So-and-So, the Thus-and-Such officer had to drop out of line. Discussion followed and it became obvious all officers below Thus-and-Such would move up. So I became the Herald-designate for next year. "Congratulations," said my buddy sitting next to me.

Business finished, it was time to close. The formal closing proceeded until the Eminent Viceroy (second in command) declared the Conclave closed and sealed the deal with the same series of knocks from the opening. Again, there was an uncomfortable period of silence. As before, the companion next to me stepped in, "Steve, you're the Herald. You're supposed to return the raps."

"I thought I was the Sentinel. I'm supposed to be the Herald next term."

"No," he advised, "You're the Herald now." I followed up with raps that would make any Herald proud.

So, let's recap. I went into the meeting a member with no particular duties or responsibilities. Then I became the Sentinel-designate; then I became the Sentinel; then I became the Herald-designate; then I became the Herald.

That's the way it goes sometimes in our various Masonic bodies. I'm sure similar things have happened to others. It took me five years to become Worshipful Master of my Lodge, a journey that would ordinarily take ten in my jurisdiction. One Brother I know did it in two. When membership declines, when Brothers fall out of line for one reason or another, others have to step in. We all wish it was different but Freemasonry isn't the only membership organization experiencing this in our activity-saturated lives today. So I'm glad my reluctance subsided and I am able to step in and help out. I am also honored they asked.

Karma

 

Karl Braun, born in 1850 in Fulda, Germany was Educated at the University of Berlin, graduating with a PhD in physics. In 1897, he built the first cathode-ray tube (more commonly known as a CRT), which became the seminal tool for developing television and computer terminals. He also discovered and patented a method of transmitting a directional signal that eventually led to the development of radar and other innovations in radio and television technology. In 1909, he shared the Nobel Prize in Physics with Marconi for that work. He was revered in his native country as a true pioneer in electronics.

In 1959, when his hometown of Fulda opened a new school building, they named it the Karl Ferdinand Braun High School. However, prior to its opening, some local citizens discovered Braun was a Freemason. With that, they demanded a different name for the school. Wanting to avoid a dispute, city fathers abandoned the plan to name the school after their native son, and began a search for a new honoree.

After a lengthy search, a committee recommended Heinrich Friedrich Karl vom Stein, a 19^th century Prussian statesman. Von Stein developed an early distaste for the pettiness of diplomacy and went to England to research commerce and mining. In 1795 he was appointed president of the Westphalian chambers, which dealt with commercial mining in Prussia. In 1804, He was appointed Trade Minister, where he introduced reforms that streamlined the nation's trade. His reforms were not universally popular however. He pushed hard for additional reforms in letters to Prussian King Frederick William III, who became irritated and eventually dismissed Stein as "an insolent, obstinate and disobedient official."

While the King was busy being distracted by his irritabilities, Napoleon overran the country. When Napoleon suggested Stein for the office of Foreign Minister, William, still the king, had no choice but to appoint him.

With the king functioning as a figurehead, this gave Stein immense power. He began implementing reforms and issued an Edict of Emancipation which abolished serfdom throughout the country.

When Stein, however, called for a national uprising in Germany, Napoleon turned against him and forced Stein into exile. There, he eventually aligned with Russia. When The Russians defeated Napoleon, Stein was able to return to Prussia as administrator of the liberated territory, where he continued to press for reform until his death in 1831, at the age of 73.

With a resume like that it was an easy decision to honor Stein by naming the school after him and kick the dreaded Freemason Karl Braun to the curb. Today, the Stein School in Fulda has grown into a large campus consisting of a high school, middle school and gymnasium for the entire community – the same one that rejected Braun because of his Masonic ties. Well, that's the way it goes sometimes.

There is, however, an epilogue to this account.

Upon further research, we find that Braun, although a brilliant and productive scientist, was never a Freemason.

What's more, a little digging has turned up the fact that Stein was, in fact, a Freemason. That's right. Brother Heinrich Friedrich Karl vom Stein was a member of "Joseph of the Three Helmets" Lodge at Wetzlar, Germany.

Karma: I'm not really sure how you define it, but I know it when I see it.

Gerald Ford — A Profile In Courage

 Author's note: This is in no way meant to be a political post. It is an account of events that occurred nearly a half century ago with no intent to imply any relationship to events of today.

The 1956 Pulitzer Prize winning book, Profiles in Courage, is a series of biographies of eight United States senators who endured criticism and personal loss after unpopular acts they each thought were the right thing to do. Among those accounts are courageous votes of Masonic Brothers Thomas Hart Benton and Sam Houston, both of whom opposed extending slavery into the US territories, and subsequently lost elections because of their actions.

Such politicians taking action against the majority views of their constituents in spite of the consequences are a rare breed. Another of our Masonic Brothers, Gerald Ford, falls into that category.

Living in an intensely divided nation today, it is hard to imagine a time when the mood of the country, short of the Civil War era, may have been more politically separated or rancorous, but the Vietnam/Watergate era of the early to mid 1970s clearly qualifies for that.

In 1968, Richard Nixon, after losing a close presidential race to John Kennedy in 1960, made the political comeback of the century. He won the presidency with a promise to end the unpopular Vietnam War. Instead, he expanded the war, even taking it into countries neighboring Vietnam. With those actions, war protests, which had been going on for years, hit a new level of intensity.

At the same time, Nixon's acerbic Vice President, Spiro T. Agnew, who himself had been intensifying the divisions in the country, came under fire for corrupt practices while Governor of Maryland. After a two-year acrimonious battle, Agnew pleaded nolo contendere to felony tax evasion, was fined, and placed on probation. With that, Agnew resigned the vice presidency and President Nixon selected long-time Republican congressman Gerald Ford to succeed him.

With all that going on, the 1972 presidential elections saw Nixon's re-election. Subsequently, his involvement in and cover-up of the 1972 break-in at Democratic headquarters gradually came to light, in what has now become known as the Watergate Affair.

So with the Vietnam War in full swing, war protests raging, the vice-president battling accusations of corruption, and Watergate grinding on, the US went through a three-year period of political meltdown. Nixon's involvement in Watergate, his lies and attempts to cover up his actions finally brought him down. Leaders of his own party convinced him there were sufficient votes in both Houses of Congress to impeach and convict, leading him to resign the presidency before that happened. Brother Ford took office on August 9, 1974.

Ford took charge in the midst of all the political turmoil, wanting to put it in the past. Some of his first words to the country were, "Our national nightmare is over." But it wasn't. The country would now have to turn its attention to a laundry list of charges being brought against former President Nixon. The aftermath of his actions could have lasted for months, possibly years, through indictments, trials, endless rehashing of events, and a plethora of incessant and merciless windbags debating it all.

Ford saw it as his responsibility to end the turmoil and get the nation back to some semblance of normalcy. With that, he granted Richard Nixon a "full, free, and absolute pardon." Political opponents and even members of Ford's Republican party leveled a firestorm of criticism at the new president. They accused him, among other things, of making a deal with Nixon that would lead to Ford becoming president. That was not the case. The only deal Ford made was that Nixon had to admit guilt. Nixon accepted the pardon and withdrew to his home in San Clemente, removing himself from further involvement in the political arena.

Historians agree Brother Ford's decision to pardon Richard Nixon was one of the main reasons contributing to the fact he lost the 1976 presidential election to Jimmy Carter. Ford simply said he knew the aftermath of Nixon's actions could go on and on, and he knew he was the only one who could end it.

John Kennedy, along with Ted Sorenson, wrote Profiles in Courage. Had they written it today, they might have included more than senators, and they may well have included Gerald Ford.

In fact, in a sense, he was included. In 1989, the Kennedy family established the "Profiles In Courage Award" in order to recognize the kind of political courage emphasized in the book. Then, in 2001, they named Ford the recipient of the honor, "for his courage in making a controversial decision of conscience to pardon former President Richard M. Nixon."

Brother Gerald Ford, 33°, was a member of Malta Lodge No. 465, Grand Rapids Michigan.