DeMolay at 100

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Louie Louie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Awesome Meeting

I went to a great Lodge meeting last night.

We opened on the First, Second and Third Degrees of Freemasonry.

The Worshipful Master called on the Secretary to read the minutes of the last meeting.  The Secretary read the minutes, including every name of every attendee and the names of each officer filling each station. The Secretary then reported he also had minutes from a called meeting held since our last regular stated communication.  He read those minutes and in the same manner ran through the list of names of all attendees and officers in each position.  The members present approved the minutes as read.

The Worshipful Worshipful Master asked if there were any petitions presented.  The Secretary announced there was one.  He read the petition in full, word-for-word.   The Worshipful Master appointed an investigating committee to meet with the petitioner.

Things really got exciting when there was an alarm at the outer door.  The Junior Deacon answered and announced there were two additional Brothers desiring admission.  The Worshipful Master admitted them.

An investigating committee reported full and favorable on a candidate. We voted. He was elected.

A Brother from the building committee reported the air conditioner did not have to be replaced but could be repaired.  It doesn't get any more exciting than that.

Time being short we had to postpone Masonic education. What's worse, had to table a discussion to plan our upcoming fish fry. 

The Worshipful Master then proceeded to close the Lodge, peace and harmony prevailing.

I’m looking forward to the next meeting.  That discussion of the fish fry could get really interesting when we try to decide what to serve the attendees who don’t like fish.

It was an awesome evening.  I just can’t figure why attendance at meetings is so low and why anyone would not want to join this fraternity.

Squeaky

One evening in the fall of 1975, my parents, Robert and Alice Harrison, went out for an early dinner with friends. Returning home, when they pulled into their driveway, they saw two men in suits standing on their front porch. One of the men had just taped a note to their front door and they had turned to leave. The note said simply, "Please call Bob Sabol, FBI," and gave a phone number.  Dad stopped the car halfway down the drive, got out and greeted the men. Sabol introduced himself as an agent with the Indianapolis office of the FBI. Then he asked, "Mr. Harrison, what do you know about Lynette Fromme?"

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

Agent Sabol asked Dad a few other questions wanting to know where he worked and what his position was with the company.  Dad was an executive with Wallace Expanding Machines. Wallace was a company that started as a small tool-and-die shop. It had developed a machine known as an Expander, which was able to stamp large metal shapes in one operation. That invention took the company to the big-time as it was subsequently used to manufacture car doors for Ford and appliance housings in a matter of seconds.

Dad was in charge of the company's purchasing operations and was Secretary-Treasurer of the corporation. In this position he earned a listing in Standard and Poor's Directory of Corporate Executives, national edition. 

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

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

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

Courts found Squeaky guilty of the attempted assassination of the President of the United States and sentenced her to life. She was paroled in 2009. The great irony for her is US Natural Resources is a company that deals in sawmills and equipment to harvest trees, not save them, as the Squeakster must have assumed.

I Have A New (Old) Skill - Cursive Specialist

Latin is a dead language
Dead as dead can be
First Latin killed the Romans
Now it's killing me.

There were times I felt as if that little ditty was my anthem during the four years of Latin I took in high school.  Latin?  Four years?  Why?  I had my reasons… beyond openly exhibiting the fact that I was a pathological masochist.  Even back then, however, I knew — and others did not hesitate to point out — I was studying a language no one had spoken for centuries. 

"Impractical," they said.

Maybe so, if I was looking for a functional language; but not if I was interested in the Roman history that went along with studying the language; not if I wanted to study a language that formed the basis of many others and led to a better understanding of English.  Besides, when I took my college entrance exam, I tested out of all language requirements.  Take that, ye naysayers.

Still, I would never have advocated Latin should be a required subject.  To some it was, and remains, unnecessary… irrelevant… maybe even useless.  Today, many high schools don't even offer it as an elective.  I think that's unfortunate but I guess it's a sign of our times… and school budgets.

So now, it seems a new subject is the target of those who think it's unnecessary, irrelevant or maybe even useless: call it cursive, longhand, script or, in my case, scribble.

"Irrelevant," they say again, "We're all typists… uh, make that keyboarders," as they toss it onto the junk heap of forgotten subjects along with music, art and God knows what else – maybe Freemasonry; lots of people think that's archaic, too.

This, too, I think is unfortunate.  There is something to be said for studying subjects beyond the "Three Rs" — to broaden our cultural backgrounds.  But, sigh, I understand.  We must be practical.

I recently spent the bulk of a year transcribing the Masonic memoirs of Frederic L. Billon, a 19th century Grand Secretary in Missouri.  Written in fading longhand, this was a difficult task, but well within my capability — and probably yours, given the fact schools didn't ditch cursive before our time.

As I went through this exercise I realized, in years to come, what I was doing would be a specialized skill.  Without its use being universal I can see cursive becoming a prerequisite for someone wanting to study history, as long as history doesn't fall off the educational cliff, too.  Those Founding Fathers didn't use keyboards. 

I suppose I could be an old fogey and lament the passing of another "useless" subject, but I might as well accept it and take heart in the fact I have a new (old) skill: I am a cursive specialist.

Cursive is a useless thing;
I've other skills to hone.
They should have written the Bill of Rights
On an Android or iPhone.

Two Masonic Funerals

Years ago my wife Carolyn and I sat in a restaurant having dinner with my father, Robert, when an energetic man walked up to the table and introduced himself to Dad.  It seemed as if the pair were old friends; turns out they had never met before.  They were, in fact, both Freemasons and the man, Lester Brown, who came up to our table had seen the Shrine pin my father always wore.

They shared stories comparing information about their Lodges and other Masonic activities, and then Lester looked at me and asked, "What about this young man, is he a Mason?"

Lester was immediately a friend because he called me "young." Despite that, however, I gave him my standard answer about joining the fraternity — "Someday."  It wasn't too long after that when "someday" finally arrived and I became an Entered Apprentice.  Lester was at my initiation and so was my dad.

When I became Master of my Lodge, I asked Lester to be my installing Senior Deacon. That evening I asked him about the time we met in that restaurant, "When you asked if I was a Mason, what would you have thought if I'd have said I planned to join and someday you'd help install me as Master of your Lodge?"

"I'd have said you were nuts," he snorted.

A few years later, Dad passed away.  I had, by then, taken part in several Masonic services, but never with a speaking part.  That day the Master asked if I would like to be the Chaplain in Dad's service. "I don't know the part," I said, "but I would be honored to read it."

This year Lester, at the age of 100, entered that House Not Made with Hands.  Standing in line waiting for his Masonic service the Master asked if I would be Chaplain.  "I don't know the part," I said, "but I would be honored to read it."

Those are the only two Masonic funerals I have participated in with a speaking part.  As we were marching in procession out of Lester's service, I thought back to the dinner when we met.  Not yet a Mason, I eventually would take part as the craft said goodbye to two Brothers who were there for me at the beginning of my Masonic experience. It's probably just a coincidence it happened that way; insignificant, really.  However, for me personally, it has great significance.  They both helped start me on my Masonic journey and it was a humbling honor to give back just a little bit.

James Madison's Enigmatic Masonic Ties

James Madison has never been proven to have been a member of the Craft and is never listed among the presidents who have been; but evidence can be found to support the position that he was a Brother. So what's the final verdict… was James Madison a Freemason?

John Francis Mercer, a former congressman who eventually became governor of Maryland, wrote a letter to James Madison on February 11, 1795. In it, he asked Madison to encourage John Fenton Mercer, his nephew, to pursue a military career. In closing the letter, Mercer congratulated Madison on becoming a Freemason.

In addition to this letter, there has been some other evidence to support Madison’s membership in the Fraternity. John Dove, an early Grand Secretary of the Grand Lodge of Virginia said Madison was one of the original founders of Hiram Lodge 59 in 1800, and became a charter member. All records of Hiram Lodge, unfortunately, have been lost. On Sept 20, 1817, Madison marched in procession with Charlottesville Lodge 90 and Widow's Son Lodge 60 to lay the cornerstone of Central College at Charlottesville (later the University of Virginia). Perhaps most telling, however, were the attacks made on Madison during the anti-Masonic period.

Mercer's letter is vague in places and his handwriting is sloppy. He clearly invites Madison to attend Lodge while his wife Sophia entertains Madison's wife Dolley. James and Dolley had wed just months before, prompting Mercer to wax not-so-eloquently on the institution of marriage, and to congratulate Madison on his marrying her. The paragraph in question reads as follows:

"I have had no opportunity of congratulating you before on your becoming a free mason a very ancient and honorable fraternity — I am sure you are now much wiser & I do not doubt you are much happier altho you were very wise & happy before, at least in my opinion — I hold a lodge on your road perhaps let me take you sometime by the hand in it & let Mrs. Mercer welcome the fair prophetess [Dolley] who but cements you to the true faith — a man who has got his head somewhat clear of a large load of lead in politics [Mercer had recently resigned from Congress] — feels of course a little light headed to that you must attribute my levity of this style which is only intended to apprise you of my respect of friendship for you."

So Mercer, definitely a Freemason, applauded Madison on becoming a member and invited him to go to a Lodge meeting. This letter, along with Madison’s other Masonic ties could confirm he was a Freemason; end of story.

Not exactly.

Mercer himself notes the letter is written in the spirit of levity. The question is, where was he joking and where was he serious? He was clearly serious about asking Madison to intervene with his nephew, but in the next paragraph was he serious in his delight Madison has become a Mason? It's too bad Mercer didn't use emojis.

Some scholars believe Mercer was lightheartedly comparing marriage to the act of joining the fraternity – a stretch, to be sure. Such scholars must not be Freemasons, who don't consider joining the fraternity a joking matter. Still, "I hold a Lodge on your road" might refer to Mercer's home, and he might have been inviting Madison and the fair prophetess Dolley, clearly meant to be humorous, to visit. As a result, one might conclude Mercer is joking about Freemasonry. One might also conclude Mercer had one strange sense of humor.

The overthinking that has gone into this letter negates the Occam's razor principle which would quickly lead to the conclusion Mercer thought Madison was a Freemason – and he was.

There is yet another possibility. Mercer thought Madison was a Freemason but he was not.

To further confuse the matter, another letter exists which contradicts Mercer's letter. In 1831, Madison wrote Stephen Bates in response to Bates' inquiry about Madison's involvement in Freemasonry. A little context regarding this letter is helpful. First, it is in no way related to Mercer's letter, written 36 years prior; second, Madison was in ill-health at its writing and actually dictated the letter to his secretary J.C. Payne; finally, the letter was written at the peak of the anti-Masonic fervor sweeping the United States at the time. Madison begins the letter by apologizing for a slow response, citing his health as the reason. He then addresses Freemasonry:

"...ignorant as I was of the true character of Masonry and little informed as I was of the grounds on which its extermination was contended for, and incapable as I was and am, in my situation of investigating the controversy. I never was a mason, and no one perhaps could be more a stranger to the principles, rites and fruits of the institution I had never regarded it as dangerous or notorious (noxious?); nor on the other hand as deriving importance from any thing publicly known of it. From the number and character of those who now support the charges against Masonry I cannot doubt that it is at least susceptible of abuse outweighing any advantage promised by its patrons."

So, to paraphrase this cornucopia of run-on sentences, Madison says he is in no position to investigate the anti-Masonic movement. He claims never to have been a Freemason, and says he really doesn't know anything about it. He says he never regarded it as dangerous. He concludes, given the character of those who are against it, its disadvantages outweigh its advantages.

So, that does it. Madison was not a Freemason and even appeared to be jumping on the anti-Masonic bandwagon; end of story.

Not so fast.

At the writing of this letter anti-Masonic sentiment was oozing out of every crevice in the country. According to William R. Denslow, in his iconic series 10,000 Famous Freemasons, Madison was under pressure, being taunted by the anti-Masonic movement. In that context, this might be interpreted as a politician's answer. Politicians lie today and no doubt politicians lied then:

"I am not a crook…"

"I never had sex with that woman…"

"I never was a Freemason…"

It may also be significant that Madison did not write this letter himself. J.C.Payne, his secretary, was the author. He may have transcribed it word-for-word or he may have advised or persuaded Madison, 80 and in ill-health at the time, to deny membership for political purposes.

This is not a settled matter. Those claiming definitively either that James Madison was or was not a Freemason are off base. Denslow and others have documented the fact Madison over time had been involved in activities with Freemasons. It is just not certain what the extent of those activities was.

One final thing… no one likes unanswered questions, but for now, there are no good answers. Suppose, however, membership documents from Hiram Lodge or some other proof comes to light showing Madison to be a Mason. Here is a man who not only publicly denied his membership but said the bad outweighs the good in Freemasonry and sided with the anti-Masonic movement. If Madison is a Brother, that's disappointing.

Still, if the aforementioned Occam's razor principle comes into play one could conclude that Madison said he was never a Freemason, so he was not a Freemason. Period. Pending other documentation proving otherwise, perhaps it is best to leave it at that.

Full transcripts and copies of the letters in question are available at:

https://oneminutemason.blogspot.com/2019/04/the-madison-mercer-bates-letters.html