We were there to attend the local Freemasons’ weekly meeting, and opportunities for guests to attend come as seldom as once every three or four months, we were told.
Merely finding the building or the right door to use would leave you too flustered for ice cream. The wealth of symbols and iconography in the parlor alone were enthralling: a painting of George Washington surrounded by Masonic items, a sword by the entrance to the meeting chamber, aprons donned by the Masons bearing the all-seeing eye and the jewels of silver draped around their necks.
One other guest was attending his first Masonic meeting in hopes of petitioning to become a member. When given permission to do so, the three of us were ushered into the meeting chamber. And the setup was impressive.
Worshipful Master Cliff Springfield sat in a large, decorated wooden chair in the East — one could almost call it a throne — flanked by an American flag and a podium for the guest speaker. In the West sat Senior Warden and past Master Wade Davis, and in the South sat Terry Howes, junior warden. Springfield, being the current master, wore a hat of his choosing, a black fedora.
Before each of the seats stood small podiums bearing the words “Wisdom,” “Strength” and “Beauty,” respectively, and in the center of the room, under a specially placed light in the ceiling, sat a kneeler with a Bible. Though Freemasonry is not a religious order, one must believe in a higher power to be a member. A Bible was chosen at this lodge only because the members there are predominately Christian. At a Muslim lodge, they said, a Qur’an would take its place.
The majority of the men present seemed to be above the age of 50, with some well into their 70s or 80s.
The meeting kicked off with a guest speaker: University alumnus Jeffrey Maynor gave the 12 men present a speech about his entrance into the fraternity, the excitement of finding Freemasonry in his family and the meaning of the order in his life.
“I came to Masonry through a little bit different means than other members of my generation,” he began. Maynor continued to describe the process of finding his deceased grandfather’s Masonic regalia as a kid. “This is my grandfather’s from 1958,” he said as he displayed his ring.
Masons have a “pension for ritual,” Maynor said, and the allure of being a part of history, following familial footsteps and making friends in the process was a major draw for him — along with the mystery, of course.
“When you are five, there is nothing cooler than a Knights Templar uniform,” he laughed, mentioning the cape and sword the uniform entails.The Knights Templar is the highest order of the York Rite, one of Freemasonry’s appendant bodies.
Maynor’s presentation closed with the difficulties of explaining one’s Masonry to outsiders, but even as the men in the room sympathized with the dilemma, Sydni and I were swarmed at the end of the meeting by members itching to talk to us about their time in the fraternity.
As soon as Master Springfield declared the time for guests had come to an end, the formal atmosphere in the quiet blue room was turned over while each member rose to his feet to speak with us.
“It’s kind of like baseball,” said Howes in reference to the three positions of the master and the senior and junior wardens, explaining that one moves up the ranks from one chair to another.
The irony of being so eager to discuss something so notoriously secretive was undercut by the catchphrase every Mason keeps cocked and ready: “We’re an organization with secrets, not a secret organization.”
“We even have a sign outside the door,” one man said.
Sydni and I exchanged a glance of playful skepticism, remembering the three times we circled the block before realizing the drab, dark building with locked, blacked-out doors was the place we were looking for. The only indicator in the front was a foot-and-a-half by 2 ft. marble block, tucked behind a column next to the locked door — and thus hidden from street view — bearing the Masonic angle and compass cradling a capital “G.” The only other sign outside told us the entrance was in the rear.
But such hinderances to outsiders are only formalities. Every kid knows his club will lose its charm when everyone on the block knows the secret password, and the same goes for fraternities and sororities on campus.
It’s benign secrecy. The men at the meeting exhibited every degree of the same Southern hospitality one would expect, and, as they told us almost too many times for comfort, they’re always looking for new members. All you’ve got to do is ask.
One by one the men would walk to us, ready to detail his life as a Mason, showing the silver jewel around his neck and explaining its significance to his position.
“The core of Freemasonry remains an unbroken connection to the past,” Maynor had said during his presentation, and seeing as none of the order’s meeting processes are written down, it makes sense that one would be so eager to share the unique culture.
