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.