Author: jjapitana

Pyramid Scheme

What started as an idea to turn a quick buck on a national holiday morphed into a million-dollar idea for Jim McCullough. As a starving artist in the seventies, McCullough fell backward into owning the copyright to the Eye of Providence, that mysterious image on the dollar bill. And while he never managed to cash in on his fortune, the story behind it is about as bizarre as the floating, radiating eye itself.

“It’s the most iconic image on the planet,” McCullough says. “Everyone knows that symbol.”

The saga started in 1976. McCullough, a member of Mill Valley No. 356, and his business partner, Preston “Presto” Stuart, were film students in San Francisco, where they ran a T-shirt business. In honor of the bicentennial, they’d been designing shirts sporting classic Americana like the “Don’t Tread on Me” flag. Then another idea struck them: How about a T-shirt featuring the Eye of Providence, that strange, trippy symbol on the back of the dollar bill?

Certainly, it’s one of the strangest government symbols around: a floating human eye within a triangle, illuminated by a shining ray of light, levitating over an unfinished brick pyramid. To an artistic spirit like McCullough, it was practically irresistible.

For generations, the image has baffled onlookers and, thanks to what seems like a connection to Freemasonry, inspired countless conspiracies. In reality, the all-seeing eye isn’t unique to Masonry, and is actually a common representation of divine protection used in many religious traditions.

In the case of the circa-1782 seal on the dollar, the eye watching over an unfinished, 13-step pyramid is typically interpreted as God’s benevolent sanction of the new nation. It’s surrounded by the phrases annuit coeptis (“He has favored our undertakings”) and novus ordo seclorum (“a new succession of ages”). The film National Treasure and the novels of Dan Brown have contributed to the misbelief that the image conceals a secret Masonic meaning. And while there are iconographic echoes aplenty to be found in the great seal where Masonry is concerned, they’re more likely emblematic of a shared affinity for Renaissance-era symbolism than any kind of conspiratorial clue.

All McCollough wanted to know was: Could he get sued for using it?

Preston Stuart (left) and Jim McCullough, with the famous T-shirt, circa 1976.

He wrote to the U.S. Department of the Treasury to inquire, and in response was sent a Form H application for reproduction copyright. McCullough called the copyright office back. He wasn’t trying to buy the rights to the Eye of Providence, he explained. Just put it on a shirt.

The staffer explained: The Eye of Providence was an unprotected image. But McCullough and Stuart could file a reproduction copyright claim on it for a simple $6 fee. So they did. Weeks later, they received a stamped certification in the mail. They now owned one of the most recognizable images in American pop culture. “I remember being exhilarated,” McCullough recalls. “It was amazing. I guess we were supposed to have it.”

Well, maybe. That was 45 years ago. McCullough still believes he owns the copyright. But that’s where things get hazy. As for other documentation, McCullough cites his attorney from the time, a former guitar player who goes by the name Lonesome Eddy, who says he has the paperwork related to the copyright in his basement. According to the U.S. Copyright Office, only a federal court can determine a copyright if it’s contested. (This one isn’t.) Furthermore, any work made pre-1926 is in the public domain.

As Eddy explains, McCullough and Presto don’t actually own the Eye of Providence; they own their sketch of it, which happens to look the same. So the million-dollar question remains: Are McCullough, Presto, and Lonesome Eddy sitting on a potential goldmine?

Lord only knows. McCullough and Presto never tried or managed to make money off the image, and the T-shirt company is long gone. McCullough says he’s seen the symbol out in the wild, but never taken any steps to sue anyone for copyright infringement.

It’s better that way, he says. Both Stuart and McCullough are jovial, aging artists with no appetite for courtroom drama. The symbol, they say, shouldn’t belong to litigious profiteers.

Still, the eye is “secretive and wonderful,” says McCullough, now a marketing consultant for Hollywood films. He always wanted to turn his unlikely copyright into some kind of lasting project, one that might make a buck. Instead, it’s left a different kind of legacy, he says. “It was good for a laugh.”

Trust Fall

Read the complete article here: californiafreemason.org/trustfall

A Southern California Mason takes the biggest leap of faith.

By Ian A. Stewart

The people who know Rio Santonil best know him as a practical, rational, lowercase-C conservative. A father of three, former risk-management professional for Herbalife, and past elected recorder for the Al Malaikah Shriners, Santonil has a reputation for stability and trustworthiness that extends throughout Southern California, largely thanks to his role as president of the Los Angeles chapter of the Masonic Service Bureau. Or at least that’s how people used to know him, before he started flinging himself out of airplanes.

While others spent their year in lockdown trading sourdough starter or racking up miles on the Peloton, the usually reserved Santonil was compelled by an urge for action. And so, in September, he resolved to fulfill a lifetime goal and go skydiving.

And then he did it again. And again. And again.

Six months after that first bucket-list jump, Santonil has notched more than 55 skydives—enough to earn him a Class B license—with ambitions for more in the works. Frequently, he’ll do as many as five jumps in a single afternoon. “Some of the people I go with, they’ll do a jump before going to work,” Santonil says matter-of-factly. “I know it sounds weird. People are like, ‘What the hell, Rio? Are you having a midlife crisis?’”

Hardly, he says. Nor is it a case of the repressed adrenaline junkie within finally breaking through. Instead, Santonil describes his new obsession as a sort of spiritual awakening. “It’s a surreal experience,” he says. “Looking at the earth from that view, it’s like, ‘Oh, my god, it’s beautiful!’ You can see the curvature of the earth from that height.”

While others may consider his new hobby a marked departure for such a buttoned-down sort, Santonil points out that for as frightening as jumping out of an airplane can seem, statistically it’s less risky than, say, riding a motorcycle. Before any jump, guides make sure you complete three different gear checks—twice on the ground and once in the plane. “You have to say, OK, I trust my instructor. He has family and loved ones, too,” Santonil says.

In that way, Santonil sees a parallel between skydiving and Freemasonry. Both require supreme faith in those around you. “It’s the same premise,” he says. “You have a community that supports you and guides you. When you jump, you have people looking out for you.”

Within Freemasonry, Santonil says, that kind of support has helped him grow both personally and professionally. Born in the city of Olongapo, in the Philippines, he immigrated at age 9 with his family to Carson, where he’s lived ever since. Years later, a work acquaintance suggested he visit Torrance University No. 394, and he was intrigued; his father and grandfather had both been Masons in the Philippines, though neither spoke much about the affiliation. In early 1999, Santonil applied to become a member, and by July of that year he’d been raised as a Master Mason. He took quickly to the group, volunteering for several roles in the lodge. Within a few years, he’d moved through each elected office, becoming lodge master in 2006 and again in 2009.

“When I first joined, I was scared to speak in front of groups—even small groups,” he says. But he found himself growing more confident in the lodge setting. “What I’ve really enjoyed is the personal development. The camaraderie within the fraternity really resonated with me.” So he dove headlong into the craft. In addition to Torrance University Lodge, he joined Metropolitan No. 352, was a charter member for Oasis No. 854, and became highly active in the appendant bodies. His list of Masonic titles is more than two pages long.

Within each of those groups, Santonil says, he’s been moved by the bonds of friendship, generosity, and trust that exist between members—traits he’s also encountered in the close-knit community of skydivers. Still, all the support in the world can only get you to the edge of the platform. You still have to take the plunge. “It’s hard to comprehend unless you do it,” he says. “The first time, it’s sensory overload, for sure. Words alone can’t really explain what you feel when you jump out.”

The mind-shift he’s experienced through skydiving has forced Santonil to update his bucket list. Now, he says, he’s eager to jump at some of the world’s most iconic locations, including in Dubai, the Swiss Alps, and, someday, over the pyramids in Egypt. One thing he knows not to do is bring his family along for the ride. “My wife is a nurse,” Santonil offers with a chuckle. “If you think I’m conservative, my wife is next-level. And my kids, they just think, You’re crazy, Dad.”

PHOTOGRAPHY CREDIT:
Courtesy of Rio Santonil

A Second Home

Read the complete article here: californiafreemason.org/secondhome 

For Filipino Americans, fraternal organizations like the Masons have played an important historic role in forging connections.Now a new generation is making its mark on the fraternity.

By James Sobredo

For Saturnino Cariaga, this is the fun part. It’s late spring, and he and 32 other Masons in Riverside County are in the final stages of filing their intent to form a new Masonic lodge, to be named for the national hero of the Philippines, José Rizal. “We’re shooting for June 19, Rizal’s birthday,” says Cariaga, a Menifee-based Navy veteran, restaurant owner, and member of Hemet San Jacinto No. 338 and MW Manuel Luis Quezon No. 874.

Members of Coronado No. 441 and Amity No. 442 pose during a Filipino Independence Day celebration in 2018 with the national flag of the Philippines at left and the Revolutionary Katipunan at right.

 

There’s still lots to do. As the lodge prepares to receive its dispensation date, Cariaga, who goes by J.P., still needs to secure the group a permanent home—either at the Menifee Lodge or at the nearby Masonic hall in Murrieta—and finalize the membership roster. Then there are the fun little details to work out, like a new lodge logo that can be embroidered into a custom-made barong Tagalog, or Filipino dress shirt. But this is the time to think big, to imagine what a brand-new lodge will look, feel, and act like—especially one that’s consciously incorporating elements of Filipino culture. “We want to be active, vibrant,” he says. One thing’s for sure, he says. “Definitely, we’re going to have a big party.”

He isn’t the only one thinking along those lines. Ninety miles west, in Gardena, Norm Tonderas is the charter master of another newly formed and expressly Filipino-inspired lodge, Andrés Bonifacio U.D. “The demand for Masonry is growing, especially among Filipinos,” he says. For Tondares, also a member of Pacific Rim No. 567, Bonifacio U.D. is an opportunity to “forge a new identity.” Like Rizal, Bonifacio is an important Philippine independence figure. “His name evokes a spirit of courage, freedom of thought, and patriotism,” Tondares says. “It evokes struggle and perseverance reminiscent of the risks that we and our parents took in coming to California.”

The excitement surrounding the new lodges is palpable—and indicative of a growing Pinoy influence in the fraternity. Both lodges have almost entirely Filipino American membership, and add to the sizable Filipino presence in California Masonry. Today, Filipino Americans are the largest nonwhite ethnic group in California Masonry and represent the state fraternity’s fastest-growing demographic. While Asian Americans account for about 10 percent of overall membership, that share—and particularly Filipinos’—is much higher among new members. Over the past 10 years, more than 14 percent of applicants to California lodges were born in the Philippines.

As their numbers have grown, Filipino Americans’ contributions to the craft have increasingly reverberated—through a commitment to the ritual, the introduction of cultural celebrations to lodge life, and an influx of new leaders. “Camaraderie, friendship, brotherly love,” says Thomas Chavez, explaining the growth. Chavez, a plural member including at Crocker No. 212—one of the approximately 20 California lodges with majority-Filipino memberships— was born in Manila and immigrated to the Bay Area at 21, eventually settling in American Canyon.

Chavez’s fellow member at American Canyon No. 875, Past Grand Master M. David Perry, has seen those traits up close. “There’s a real bond there,” Perry says. In 2015, he became the first sitting California grand master to make an official visit to the Philippines “Our Filipino brothers are an integral part of our fraternity, and I’m proud of the diversity we have in California Freemasonry.”

The result of that is a revitalization in many lodges. “There’s new blood coming in, especially among the younger generation,” says Mike Tagulao, a past master of San Leandro No. 113 and a district inspector who was born in Manila. San Leandro is typical of lodges where the Filipino influence has been strongest. As new members join, they tend to invite their social circles to lodge events—and that brings more candidates into the fold. Over time, the lodge’s membership evolved; Tagulao estimates that the lodge is now 80 percent Filipino. “We do events nearly every month—festivals, promotions,” he says. With each, the lodge’s presence in the Filipino community grows.

Says Thomas, who also belongs to San Francisco No. 120 and California No. 1, “Filipino [candidates] come to the parties. They see the lodge and say, ‘How can I join?’” It’s a virtuous cycle powered by friendship and cultural bonds. And the connection runs even deeper than that.

A Revolutionary History

Ask almost any Filipino American Mason about the fraternity’s cultural appeal and the conversation inevitably turns to Rizal. For many, he exemplifies the interrelatedness of Freemasonry and national pride.

Many of the leading figures of the Filipino fight for independence were Freemasons. In fact, Masonic lodges provided much of the infrastructure and networking that helped power the anti-colonial movement. As a result, Masonry has been strongly identified with Filipino nationalism for more than a century, both on the islands and, increasingly, within immigrant enclaves. “Masonry played a big role among the Filipino revolutionaries, especially in fighting the Spanish friars,” says the Rev. Bayani Depra Rico, a member of Mission Lodge No. 169 in San Francisco and Carquienez No. 858. Rico is a former grand chaplain of California and the rector of Ascension Episcopal Church in Vallejo. A great admirer of Filipino history, he was inspired to join the fraternity in large part because of its association with those revolutionary figures.

Filipino Mason and Martyr José Rizal

Chief among them is Dr. José Rizal, the martyred Philippine national hero. Rizal, a highly influential writer who advocated for the expanded rights of Filipinos under Spanish colonial rule, first became a Mason in the 1880s while studying in London. He later moved to Spain and joined the movement of anti-colonialist Filipinos there, affiliating with the influential Lodge La Solidaridad, a Masonic lodge in Madrid that published a nationalist newspaper read widely in Manila. In 1890, Rizal and Marcelo H. del Pilar, leaders of the reform movement in Spain, were granted authority by the Gran Oriente Español to establish a new lodge in the Philippines exclusively for native-born Filipinos. Rizal viewed Masonry as the “universal protest against the ambition of tyrants” and the “supreme manifestation of democracy.” Rizal would eventually publish two major novels that are credited with inspiring the Philippine independence fight.

Filipino Freemason and Leader
of the Katiputan Andrés Bonifacio

By that time, Masonry already had roots on the islands. The first Masonic lodge in the Philippines was formed in 1762, when the British temporarily occupied Manila and formed a short-lived military lodge. Other expat lodges briefly sprouted up and disbanded, virtually all of them founded by and open exclusively to Europeans and whites. These were connected to grand lodges in Britain, France, Spain, various U.S. states, and Scotland.

In 1892, Rizal’s newly formed Nilad Lodge No. 144 was established in Manila, from which a wide network of Filipino lodges chartered by the Gran Oriente Español were born. It was in those lodges, driven underground by the colonial government, that many of the most celebrated revolutionary figures were raised as Masons. Chief among them was Bonifacio, a member of Taliba Lodge No. 165 and the founder of the Katipunan, the famous secret organization that in 1896 become part of the Philippine Revolutionary Army. Clearly inspired by Freemasonry, Bonifacio’s Katipunan borrowed heavily from the craft, adopting Masonic symbols, rituals, and organizational structures to carry out its armed revolt. “Masonry, or more accurately Filipino Masons, were the pioneers of the establishment of democracy in this country,” wrote Manuel Camus, an important Filipino Mason, judge, and independence figure, in 1938. “And for this many of them lost their comfort, their freedom, and their very lives.”

In 1901, after the Spanish-American War and during the U.S. occupation of the islands, a new Manila Lodge No. 342 was constituted by the Grand Lodge of California. Two more lodges, Cavite No. 350 and Corregidor No. 386, soon followed, and in 1912 the three lodges were granted permission to form a new Grand Lodge of the Philippines, which would perform its work in English under the California ritual. Harry Eugene Stafford was the first grand master. The early leadership of these lodges was largely Anglo-American, but membership was open to all ethnicities and nationalities. (A 1936 report counted 2,711 Filipinos in the fraternity, working alongside 1,948 Americans and 513 Chinese.)

In 1918, Manuel Quezon became its first Filipino-born grand master. Quezon, a former officer in the Philippine Revolutionary Army, is generally acknowledged as the most important political figure in the Philippines. As president of the senate, he would negotiate for a peaceful transition toward Philippine independence from the United States. And in 1935, he was elected the first president of the Philippine Commonwealth, a transitional state before full independence was established. As grand master, he helped unite many American- and Spanish-chartered lodges under the umbrella of the Grand Lodge of the Philippines.

Despite the connection between San Francisco and Manila, the relationship between California lodges and Filipino American Masons hasn’t always been harmonious. Many immigrants from the islands formed lodges here connected to the Spanish-backed lodges that birthed the Filipino revolutionary movement, which were not recognized by the Grand Lodge of California. A 1941 Grand Lodge of California committee reported that members of those lodges were “of a much lower grade” than those of recognized lodges, and “not even acceptable Masonic timber.”

While California’s blue lodges were never formally closed to Filipinos on the basis of race, the fact is that very few Filipinos were admitted prior to 1960, when the first all-Filipino lodge, Tila Pass No. 797, was chartered in Los Angeles. Even then friction continued. During the 1980s and ’90s, as many urban lodges experienced precipitous membership declines, Filipino Americans began entering the fraternity in greater numbers. The result in some cases was a culture clash. “In many cases, [the rise of Filipino membership] had a salutary effect on Freemasonry, and lodges were revived and revitalized by this importation of new blood,” wrote Past Grand Master John Cooper in a 2010 article in the journal Proceedings of the Policy Studies Organization. “Unfortunately, there were also some less desirable side effects, caused in some cases by cultural differences.”

One such issue was the rise of a group called the Grand and Glorious Order of the Knights of the Creeping Serpent. As the “Snakes,” as they were known, conferred their own Masonic degree without permission from Grand Lodge, they were banned, and officers were asked to renounce membership in the order. In 2009, the group was reformed as a strictly social club with no degree conferrals.

A dinner and dance party of the Caballeros de Dimas-Alang in the 1940s, one of several pseudo-Masonic Filipino fraternal organizations in California.

Honoring a Legacy

In addition to Rizal and Bonifacio, many other California lodges’ names pay homage to the Philippines. They include today’s consolidated Atwater Larchmont Tila Pass No. 614, the latter so named for the 1899 Battle of Tila Pass, in which outnumbered Filipino soldiers mounted a spirited but doomed defense against American forces. There’s also General Douglas MacArthur No. 853, chartered in Sacramento in 2010, named for the commander of the U.S. Armed Forces of the Fareast during World War II, who famously fulfilled the promise he’d made in his “I shall return” speech by successfully landing U.S. troops in Japanese-occupied Leyte in 1944. He was made a Mason at sight by Philippine Grand Master Samuel Hawthorne and affiliated with Manila No. 1. Then there’s San Diego’s MW Manuel Luiz Quezon No. 874, chartered in 2019 and named for the first Philippine president and grand master.

For many members, the historical interrelatedness of Masonry and Filipino history is understood across generations. Charles P. Cross, the assistant grand lecturer for Division VI, is a member of Metropolitan No. 352, which is nearly 90 percent Filipino. Cross arrived in the United States from the Philippines in 1993 by way of Pohnpei, in the Federated States of Micronesia, and now works as a chief financial officer in Los Angeles. His father served in the U.S. military during World War II and participated in the Bataan Death March. Joining the fraternity gave him a way to connect with his family. “When Filipinos immigrated to the U.S., they realized their parents and uncles were also Masons,” Cross says. “They joined so they could emulate them.”

The generation of Filipino immigrants who arrived in California in the early 20th century came as U.S. “nationals” who owed all the responsibilities of citizenship but very few of its rights. Fraternal and community organizations played a crucial civic role within Filipino American communities, especially in towns like Stockton, which had the largest Filipino community in the United States. Fraternal groups like the Legionarios del Trabajo and the Caballeros de Dimas-Alang—both quasi-Masonic in nature—were bedrocks of financial, cultural, and social support for Filipino communities not only in the Central Valley, but also in the Bay Area and Los Angeles. They provided food, jobs, and housing, and functioned as social and cultural centers.

Marrino Berbano, longtime chaplain of Morning Star No. 19 in Stockton, has witnessed the transformation of the Filipino American community firsthand. Berbano, now 85, joined the lodge in 1972 and recalls with fondness the Little Manila that once flourished in downtown Stockton. He remembers many of the first Filipino members of the lodge, men like Toribio Rosal, a World War II veteran with the First Filipino Regiment, who was featured in the PBS documentary An Untold Triumph.

Oscar Gonzales III, a Master Mason with Martinez No. 41, is also connected to the pioneer generation of Filipinos who came to America in the early 1900s. His grandfather, Oscar Gonzales, arrived from Aklan province in the Visayan Islands. “His membership in Freemasonry really helped him survive in America,” says Gonzales, who cared for his grandfather in old age and later joined him in the fraternity. While in college, the younger Gonzales founded a statewide Filipino American fraternity, Chi Rho Omicron, but Freemasonry remains the foundation of his civic life. “It’s important to get Filipinos into mainstream organizations and to make good men better men,” he says.

For others, like Tony Cimarra, the assistant grand lecturer for Division III, the familial connection to Freemasonry has come as a welcome surprise. In 1996, while working as a manager for an American airline in California, he approached Sublime-Benicia No. 5. While he was petitioning, he mentioned the fraternity to his parents and was shocked to learn that many of his family back home were Masons, too.

Says Emmanuael Dial, master of Torrance University No. 394, who immigrated to the United States from the Philippines at age 4, “There is a strong family connection for Filipinos. It really is a family environment.”

A circa-1930s photo of members of the Caballeros de Dimas-Alang, one of the largest Filipino fraternal organizations in California.

Celebration of Spirit

Today’s Filipino-inspired lodges have infused California Masonry with more than just fresh blood. They’ve helped birth a unique Fil-Am lodge culture.

That can be seen clearly in the blowout fiestas that many lodges are known for. Among the best is the Filipino Independence Day party held each June at Columbia-Brotherhood No. 370, where lodge members and their families celebrate with traditional food, dances like the tinikling and habanera, and a band of rondalla guitar players. There’s also the boisterous interlodge fellowship party Sir Francis Drake No. 376 hosts the night before Annual Communication, a party that often draws visitors from the Grand Lodge of the Philippines. And there’s the Filipinana celebration hosted each June by members of Anacapa No. 710, a lodge comprising many current and retired Filipino American Navy men stationed at Port Hueneme and Point Mugu.

Members of San Francisco No. 120

It can be seen in smaller ways, too, like the elaborate barong garments worn for formal events and embroidered with Masonic flourishes. And it can be seen in festive interjurisdictional events like MGM and the Philippine Masonic Association of America’s annual meetings.

For all the cultural pride displayed in these lodges, there’s a distinctly Filipino-American brand of Masonry practiced in California. Many members, particularly those born in the United States, are astonished at the cultural cachet and special privileges afforded to Masons on the islands. It’s not uncommon for an American Mason to be greeted at the airport in Manila by junior members of a nearby lodge, for instance, and whisked through customs.

“The prestige of Masonry in the Philippines is really big,” says Albert Cua, lodge master of San Francisco No. 120, who is Chinese-Filipino and immigrated to the United States at 19.

California has birthed a unique Fil-Am lodge culture. Pictured is a Filipinana Celebration with Past Grand Master Russ Charvonia

To James Bonnin, a past master of Francis Drake No. 276 and junior warden of Mission No. 169, those differences in character are underscored by a shared set of principals connecting Masons around the world and through time. “Every lodge has a slightly different culture, even here,” says Bonnin, who left Bacolod City for the U.S. in 1999. “So when you mix the Filipino culture with the American lodges, it gives it a different flavor. But it’s all Freemasonry.”

That’s a sentiment shared by many Filipino American members. “When you join Masonry, you can feel you’re home right away,” says Alfredo Dumaop, secretary for Anacapa No. 710. He invokes the Tagalog term matulungin, or helpfulness. “That’s what hospitality is all about. It becomes your second home, your natural environment.”

Tagulao, the inspector for District 305 and past master of San Leandro No. 113, puts it succinctly— and eloquently. “We just genuinely care for each other,” he says.

James Sobredo, Ph.D., is professor emeritus of ethnic studies at Sacramento State University, where he specialized in Filipino American history. He is also a journalist and documentary photographer.

California Freemason: The Filipino Issue

“Camaraderie, friendship, brotherly love.” That’s how one Filipino-born Mason explains the historic connection between Freemasonry and Philippine culture. In the latest issue of California Freemason, we explore that special bond and celebrate the many ways Filipino American Masons have and continue to strengthen the fraternity.

READ THE ISSUE NOW

 

Featured Articles:

A Second Home
For Filipino Americans, fraternal organizations like the Masons have played an important historic role in forging connections. Now a new generation is making its mark.

Portal to the Past
A hiding-in-plain-sight Masonic temple in San Francisco tells the rich but little-understood history of Filipino Freemasonry in California. READ MORE

Trust Fall
A straight-laced Mason takes a walk on the wild side.

Heritage Movement
How the craft showed a child of immigrants his roots.

The Shrine
Inside a living museum to one Mason’s artful life.

An Absolute Corker

MEET YE ANTIENT ORDER OF NOBLE CORKS, THE SCREWIEST MASONIC CLUB AROUND.

Shrouded in equal parts mystery and merriment, Ye Antient Order of Noble Corks is a bit of an outlier even within the sometimes bewildering world of Freemasonry. Whereas the dozens of supplemental degrees available to Masons tend to stress or expand on the moral teachings of the craft, the Corks exist for one reason and one reason only: to have a good time for a good cause. “The only thing we take seriously is how unserious we take the degree and ourselves,” says Donald McAndrews, a 50-year Mason in Virginia and the “grand bung” of the Americas, the equivalent of the order’s grand master.

Yes, it’s that kind of affair. With titles like rather worshipful admiral, barely worshipful cook, and particularly worthy shipmate, the order is a decidedly screwy cousin to Freemasonry—fitting, given that its insignia is a corkscrew piercing a wine cork. During so-called cork lodges, the claret jug tends to be passed around liberally.

More common in Great Britain, Australia, and parts of Europe, the Cork degree is seldom practiced on our shores. It is governed here, insofar as its governed at all, by the Grand Council of the Allied Masonic Degrees. By and large, a degree conferral is held only once a year, during Masonic Week, typically in Virginia or Washington, D.C. And while it’s still a mystery to most American Freemasons, the degree has a long and proud, if not exactly distinguished, history. Cork lodges, sometimes known as cellars, have always existed to raise money for charity by taking donations around the festive board, where (ideally) good and (definitely) plentiful drink are par for the course.

For the uninitiated, the cork lodge’s degree ceremony includes many allusions to Noah’s Ark—hence the nautical theme evident in the officer’s titles. But the real highlight of a cork lodge is the “board of corks.” Revelers raise funds for the charity of their choice through the frequent and boisterous levelling of fines against fellow members for breaches of Cork protocol. (Among them, I’m told, is the requirement to keep a cork and corkscrew on one’s person at all times, like a challenge coin.) “Overall, even where local customs may take over, we universally agree that we come to eat and drink and for the opportunity to raise funds for charity,” McAndrews says.

Edgar Fentum, a resident of the Masonic Homes in Union City and a member of Los Altos No. 712, is among the lucky few California Masons who’ve taken the degree. And while he’s mostly tightlipped about its customs, he does recall it fondly. “I can’t give away the secrets, but I can tell you it was a wonderful time, with corks being waved about in the air everywhere you looked,” he says.

It’s not impossible for California Masons to receive the degree, McAndrews says; once we are able to safely travel again, he or another grand cork officer would be open to bringing a Cork degree out west, if travel and accommodations are provided. For more information about bringing the Cork degree to your lodge, email michaelramos@freemason.org.

Read more at californiafreemason.org

At Refreshment

READ MORE at californiafreemason.org

 

“You can say my Masonic career started over a beer,” begins Arthur Weiss, a fifth generation Freemason and the current grand master of the Grand Lodge of California. He’s recalling the first serious conversation he ever had about joining the fraternity. It was during a business trip to Louisiana, at a Ramada Inn hotel bar, that he learned about the community that would soon become a major part of his life. Weiss and two colleagues, both Masons, had just finished work for the day and sat down for a drink before dinner. “That’s when I decided to probe them for details about Freemasonry,” Weiss says. Other Masons have a similar story: Matthew McColm, a past master of Novus Veteris No. 864, met his two closest lodge friends over gin and tonics. And Justin Daza-Ritchie, a member of Liberal Arts No. 677, decided 20 years ago that he’d be a member for life while drinking martinis at the House of Prime Rib during the Annual Communication weekend in San Francisco.

For many, the most cherished parts of Masonry exist outside the formal boundaries of the craft— and often over a drink. Indeed, once lodge meetings are adjourned, a familiar custom ensues: Glasses clink. Mirth swells. The lodge is “at refreshment.”

That state encapsulates much of what Freemasonry is about: fraternity, camaraderie, and friendship, all of which point back to the core Masonic tenet of brotherly love. After a year during which that kind of close, interpersonal connection was sorely missed, it’s a reminder that Masonry is more than just monthly meetings and ritual practice. It’s raising a glass with a lifelong friend—or making a brand-new one. If the lodge room is where the connections of Freemasonry are formed, it’s often at the “afters” that those bonds are cemented.

That’s certainly been the case for McColm, a nine-year member of San Diego–based Novus Veteris Lodge No. 864. “Being at refreshment really goes beyond the walls of the lodge,” McColm says. Together with Mark Nielsen and Chris Radcliffe—the “three musketeers,” as they call themselves—the trio greet the at-refreshment hour with a customary G-and-T, a nod to Masonry’s British roots. Theirs is a friendship that extends beyond the lodge. “These are the guys I talked to before I proposed to my girlfriend,” he says. “It’s a special experience as an adult to find people you can relate to and forge a deep personal friendship with.”

Says Daza-Ritchie, “It’s a great way to be in a non-ritualized, non-stuffy setting with your fellow lodge members. It helped pull me into Masonry’s particular brand of friendship.”

In a million different ways, Masons and lodges develop their own unique cultures while at refreshment. More often than not, that involves hoisting a drink. And while drinking is not in any official way part of Freemasonry—and the craft explicitly prohibits it in many instances—it’s become an important tradition for many and a way to deepen the already strong ties between members.

From uncorking a fine bottle of wine at a black tie gala to downing a shot and a beer at the watering hole around the corner, Masonic refreshment takes many forms. For Peter Ackeret, it means heading over to Monk’s Cellar, a restaurant near Aquila Lodge No. 865 in Roseville, outside Sacramento. During pre-COVID times, Ackeret and his lodge brothers would decamp there after lodge meetings to break bread and offer toasts. At Saddleback- Laguna No. 672, members formed an unofficial club called Low 12 (a cheeky riff on High 12, a Masonic lunch group that meets at noon), which gathers after lodge meetings to keep the party going. The Downtown Masonic Lodge No. 859 adjourns to Invention, one of the oldest bars in Los Angeles, which just happens to be on the third floor of the Los Angeles Athletic Club, where the lodge meets. San Francisco’s Logos Lodge No. 861 has its own special punch recipe that members partake of following lodge business.

And then there are many examples of top-drawer dinners (with top-shelf drinks) that go above and beyond these casual après-lodge gatherings, like the blowout seven-course St. John the Baptist Feast held each summer at Conejo Valley No. 807. At McColm’s Novus Veteris, members hold a quarterly “convenus,” where they wear tux and tails and eat by candlelight. “It hearkens back to an older time—a bygone era of old Masons when they wore that sort of thing,” he says. Such hat-tips to the past help connect the Masons of today to the festive practices of yore. In fact, in 2014, Grand Lodge issued guidelines to help lodges “experience our heritage by temporarily returning to the days of old” by re-creating schematics from 18th century “table lodges.” In these early gatherings, members sat around a horseshoe-shaped table with the master at the head as they wined and dined. The meal would pause when the senior steward called the brothers to “labor,” to observe the degree work. During a break or at the degree’s conclusion, the meal would resume with the junior warden calling the lodge back to refreshment.

Another example of Masonry’s formal side can be seen in opulent festive boards like the one at Anchor Bell No. 868 in Los Angeles, where reveling members in black tie sing the lodge’s own sea shanty and drink rum punch. It’s also seen at Prometheus No. 851, whose version of a festive board is a white-tie event held at the University Club, a jaw-dropping two-story brick Victorian mansion atop San Francisco’s tony Nob Hill. As befits such a setting, the members of Prometheus take their postprandial in style, with single malts and bottles of Napa and Sonoma wine poured freely.

Just don’t call the Masons a drinking club. Since the brotherhood was officially formed in 1717, when a handful of lodges joined together as the Grand Lodge of England inside the Goose and Gridiron tavern in St. Paul’s churchyard, Masons have had a fraught relationship with alcohol. Even by the standards of early-18th-century London, those lodges were known for their fondness for drink. (A famous satirical engraving from 1736 by William Hogarth, a Freemason, depicts a debauched street scene featuring a pair of Masonic officers staggering out of a pub.) Right or wrong, a boozy reputation took hold.

As a result, the fraternity has since held a firm line on alcohol in the lodge.

In fact, drinking is prohibited at lodge meetings and in lodge rooms. Until 1989, California Masonic temples weren’t allowed to serve booze in their dining halls. Other stipulations remain: No lodge funds can be used to buy alcohol, though it can be bought and donated by a member. That attitude is reflected in the first Masonic cardinal virtue, temperance. The idea was to prevent an overserved member from breaking his solemn oath—you know, in vino veritas. Today, temperance is as much about respecting the sanctity of the lodge as about spilling the beans.

From the beginning, that meant toeing a narrow line, as early Masonic lodges frequently met inside pubs or taverns. Those early forebearers would conduct their meetings above the bar, and then later, after wrapping up business, retire downstairs for dinner and drinks. Like most lodge activities, these moments of gastronomic gaiety worked to build Masonic brotherhood—so long as it was kept within reason.

That responsibility traditionally has fallen on the junior warden, who is charged with maintaining order while the lodge is at refreshment, and who often organizes the purchase or donation of alcohol. Lodge-minute books from the 18th century are full of examples of fines levied by the junior warden against members who “forgot themselves” and took part in less-than-stellar behavior around the table. Nowadays such fines are forbidden. If a member does overindulge, the junior warden simply pulls him aside to let him know he’s cut off for the evening. Above all, the junior warden’s roll at refreshment isn’t that of a lodge’s Officer Krupke, but to make sure that social activity—and all it encompasses— moves along swimmingly.

That isn’t just a relic of Masonry’s tippling past. It’s also a gesture to those who don’t drink. For sober brothers or members who just don’t prefer it—Ackeret, for example, eschews booze during social gatherings, preferring iced tea with a squeeze of lemon—the storied halls of Freemasonry are welcome dry spots. (Similar to Alcoholics Anonymous, Freemasonry relies on fellowship to foster growth and has no political affiliation; in fact, both groups use the equilateral triangle as an important symbol.)

One place where the craft and the bottle do meet is in the custom of offering a toast—or, as is often the case, many toasts. In the out-of-print tome A Selection of Masonic Songs, published in 1975 and full of ancient salutes to drink, the brethren would sometimes sing, “Coming, coming, coming, sir, the waiter cries, with a bowl to drown our care.” Verbal tributes vary from lodge to lodge, and they run the emotional gamut, from earnest and profound to bawdy and bold. Take for example this one from the 18th century: “Charge, Brethren! Charge your glasses to the top / My toast forbids the spilling of a drop.”

At Oakland’s Academia Lodge No. 847, the monthly festive board—called the agape—is serious business. Held inside the swank library of the Oakland Scottish Rite building, members dress in white tie and gloves, with officers wearing the gauntlet of their station on their sleeve. The recitation of toasts from memory is a highlight of the evening, says past lodge master Paul Adams. At the cue of a master of ceremonies, the toast-giver slings his napkin over his shoulder and offers his salutation, followed by the thunderous crash of drained “firing glasses”—heavy shot glasses, essentially—being thumped on the table.

The act of toasting provides a way for the lodge to formally—and good-naturedly—honor members, friends, and founding fathers. “There can be a toast to the country, a toast to the grand master, and a toast to the master of the lodge,” says Weiss. “There’s also a toast to absent brethren, a toast to visiting brethren, and even a toast to the ladies.” At certain kinds of gatherings, these can add up. At Adams’ Academia Lodge, for instance, there are usually seven toasts. At Conejo Valley’s annual feast there are eight. “Our members know better than to put too much in their glass,” Adams says. “Because if you drink seven whiskey shots—it’s not good.”

So crucial is toasting to the Masonic experience that drinking vessels have become a part of many lodges’ lore. Some halls still possess ornate Masonic punch bowls, made of ceramic or pewter and embossed with Masonic symbols and emblems. Other lodges, like McColm’s Roseville group, use metal tankards, while the aforementioned Prometheus Lodge feast in San Francisco involves passing around a “tig”—a three-handed sterling silver loving cup, which each brother holds and then is made to answer a question posed by the master of ceremonies, intended to prompt deep self-reflection.

Many other lodges have special firing glasses, or cannons, used to punctuate a speech or toast.

For all the many, many rituals centered on these time-honored traditions, Masons point out that drinking itself plays only a supporting role in times of refreshment. Instead, it’s the one-on-one connection men experience at these lively moments of leisure that keeps the tradition alive. It affords members new and old a chance to enjoy the social side of Freemasonry while meeting each other on the level. Being at refreshment, according to Daza-Ritchie, shows that Freemasonry “isn’t all drudgery or old guys in suits, but interesting people who really enjoy one another’s company.”

Weiss, who has played emcee for Conejo Valley’s St. John’s Day Feast for most of the past 25 years, joined the Freemasons in part because he had relatives in it. “But what got me hooked, and kept me coming back for more, were the centuries of history and the character of the individuals I met along the way,” he says. Surely that’s worth raising a glass to.

The Spring Refresh

Belly up to the bar and pour yourself a drink: It’s California Freemason magazine’s Spring Drinks issue, our libatious celebration of the spirit-raising power of a good drink shared with good friends. Because as the old Masonic saying goes, the bonds of brotherhood are tightest when they’re wet.

Strength in Numbers

In response to the pandemic during its first weeks, fraternity leaders formed the Distressed Worthy Brother Relief Fund, an emergency charity drive powered by donations from individual members and lodges to provide services and financial support to Freemasons affected by COVID-19.

Once it was live, the first $5,000 was raised in 20 minutes. Within a week, the fund had reached more than $30,000. One month in, Masons had donated $221,000 to the effort. By the end of the fall, fundraising reached more than $650,000.

The Annual Report 2020

Our original ideas and plans for 2020 went out the window in March, when the COVID-19 pandemic upended daily life and California issued the statewide stay-at-home order.  Stated meetings and dinners, Masonic education events, public school celebration and more were moved online. However, it wasn’t too long until lodges across California began to adapt to life from a distance and took creative action to provide a measure of fellowship and relief to distressed Masons and local communities.

During this time, the passion and creative drive California Masons have displayed allowed us not to just maintain, but expand and unite the fraternity. The 2020 Annual Report summarizes our tremendous achievements and efforts over the past year. From virtual gatherings  to lifesaving Masonic relief programs, learn about how California Masons and donors have continued to create profound impact and further define what it means to be a Freemason for years to come.

READ THE ANNUAL REPORT