The Lie Rob Morris Told

By Stephen Dafoe

In September of 1882, the Chicago-based National Christian Association unveiled a 35-foot tall monument to William Morgan in a cemetery in Batavia, New York, unveiling a new round of anti-Masonic feelings in the process. It had been more than a half century since William Morgan had vanished from the village, kidnapped and murdered, it was said, by members of the Masonic fraternity who were outraged that a man they had welcomed as a brother had betrayed them by exposing their mysteries to profane eyes.

And yet the murder of William Morgan was never proven; the discovery of a body on the shores of Oak Orchard Creek a year after his disappearance, at first supposed to be that of William Morgan was just as quickly supposed to be that of Timothy Monro, a Canadian who had allegedly drowned a few weeks before the discovery. And so the matter was brought to a close. No corpse, no crime. In 1831, Victor Birdseye, who served as the last special council in the Morgan investigations concluded on his report to the New York State legislature that:

“The information thus elicited, is sufficient, I trust to satisfy the public mind as to the ultimate fate of Morgan: that he was taken into the Niagara, at night, about the 19^th of September and there sunk. Yet the evidence, although apparently sufficient for all purposes of human belief, is not sufficient to establish, with legal certainty, and according to adjudged cases, the murder of Morgan.” (1)

Birdseye could not help but be frustrated as he saw his efforts as well as those of his predecessors, John C. Spencer and Daniel Mosley, thwarted as key Masonic witnesses and accused either dodged questions in the witness box, refused to testify altogether or fled the scene to avoid prosecution. Five years of legal investigation and prosecution on the matter of Morgan’s disappearance resulted in 20 grand juries and 15 trials. Of the 54 Freemasons indicted by the grand jury, only 39 were brought to trial and only 10 of those were convicted. (2) Although the 10 Masons convicted of abducting Morgan served light sentences ranging from one month to 28 months, the Craft as a whole served a nearly two-decade-long period of Masonic caliginosity, a backlash against the Craft that punished all Freemasonry for the actions of a few of its misguided members.

And yet, Freemasonry survived and grew to strength in the years after the American Civil War, her opponents less vocal than they had been when anti-Masonry had passed through the churches on its journey from the honest indignation of the citizens of Western New York to the political machinations of the Anti-Masonic Party, a party led by men like Thurlow Weed.

Weed was a Rochester newspaperman and editor of the Rochester Daily Telegraph when Morgan was abducted and soon took an active interest in the investigations. Although publicly humiliated and ridiculed for his alleged desecration of Timothy Monro’s corpse in October of 1827 to make it look like Morgan, Weed continued to attack Freemasonry throughout the remainder of his life, launching his final Parthian arrow at the unveiling of the Morgan monument in 1882, just weeks before his death. Although he was unable to attend in person, Weed sent a letter to the organizers that told of the confession of John Whitney, one of the men convicted of abducting Morgan, and a man who not only fled to New Orleans to avoid prosecution, (3) but who also refused to testify in one of the later trials. (4) In Weed’s account of things, in 1831, while visiting in his home, John Whitney confessed to murdering Morgan:

“Whitney then related in detail the history of Morgan’s abduction and fate. The idea of suppressing Morgan’s intended exposure of the secrets of Masonry was first suggested by a man by the name of Johns. It was discussed in lodges at Batavia, Le Roy and Rochester. Johns suggested that Morgan should be separated from Miller and placed on a farm in Canada West. For this purpose he was taken to Niagara and placed in the magazine of the Fort until arrangements for settling him in Canada were completed, but the Canadian Masons disappointed them. After several meetings of the lodge in Canada, opposite Fort Niagara, a refusal to have anything to do with Morgan left his “kidnappers” greatly perplexed. Opportunely a Royal Arch chapter was installed at Lewiston. The occasion brought a large number of enthusiastic Masons together. “After labor,” in Masonic language, they “retired to refreshment.” Under the exhilaration of champagne and other viands the Chaplain (the Rev. F. H. Cummings, of Rochester) was called on for a toast. He responded with peculiar emphasis and in the language of their ritual: “The enemies of our order may they find a grave six feet deep, six feet long, and six feet due east and west.” Immediately after that toast, which was received with great enthusiasm, Col. William King, an officer in our war of 1812, and then a Member of Assembly from Niagara county, called Whitney of Rochester, Howard of Buffalo, Chubbuck of Lewiston, and Garside of Canada, out of the room and into a carriage furnished by Major Barton. They were driven to Fort Niagara, repaired to the magazine and informed Morgan that the arrangements for sending him to Canada were completed and that his family would soon follow him. Morgan received the information cheerfully and walked with supposed friends to the boat, which was rowed to the mouth of the river, where a rope was wound around his body, to each end of which a sinker was attached. Morgan was then thrown overboard. He grasped the gunwale of the boat convulsively. Garside, in forcing Morgan to relinquish his hold was severely bitten.” (5)

Weed’s version of Whitney’s story was pretty strong evidence against the Masonic fraternity at a time when Freemasonry was once again feeling the pressure of anti-Masonic inquiry. The letter, which was published by the National Christian Association in pamphlet form in 1882 also found its way into many New York newspapers including the December 7, 1882 edition of The Malone Palladium, which ran the letter below the headline, The Death of Morgan: Thurlow Weed’s Dying Revelation. (6) It is doubtless that few readers, particularly those predisposed to a mistrust of Freemasonry, gave any critical thought to Weed’s claims, accepting the account as a true and accurate depiction of what really happened.

But the same can be said of the Freemasons who accepted, without question, another version of the Whitney confession, the one offered by the Masonic author Rob Morris. In 1883, the year after the raising of Morgan’s monument in the Batavia cemetery, Morris, a well-known and well-loved Masonic poet and author, wrote a book called William Morgan or Political Anti-Masonry, its Rise, Growth and Decadence. The book presented the argument that Morgan was not abducted and murdered by Freemasons, but deported to Canada at his own request. It is little surprise that the story, as told by Morris, was joyfully received by the Masonic fraternity and became the foundation stone upon which other Masonic writers would build their version of the tale, a tale that is accepted and repeated by North American Freemasons to this day.

Morris’ reimagining of the series of events from Morgan’s arrest in Batavia until his disappearance at Fort Niagara is largely based on the alleged oral testimony of his key witness in his defense of the Craft, John Whitney; the same man Thurlow Weed claimed confessed to assisting with Morgan’s murder.

Whitney’s account of things is told in Chapter VII of William Morgan and is claimed to be information Whitney gave to Morris in 1859. (7) The Morris / Whitney story tells us that it was John Whitney and Nicholas Chesebro who engineered Morgan’s “deportation” to Canada, assisted by a handful of other dedicated members of the Masonic fraternity, viz. Col. William King, Burrage Smith, Loton Lawson and Sheriff Eli Bruce, (8) the entire plan organized with the full understanding, acceptance and financial support of Governor De Witt Clinton. (9) Morris claimed that John Whitney told him he went to visit Clinton at Albany in August of 1826, returning to Rochester with a detailed plan and a signed letter from the Governor making it clear that “no steps must be taken that would conflict with a citizen’s duty to the law.” (10) Clinton’s plan, according to the Morris / Whitney story was to attempt to buy Morgan’s manuscript and get him to agree to a deportation to some foreign country where he might be separated from his publishing partner David Miller. (11) The governor also assured Whitney of $1,000 if required, and the assurance that those involved would be sustained by Masonic authorities within New York State, so long as things were kept legal. (12)

Whitney allegedly went to Batavia on September 5^th, 1826, where he offered Morgan $50 cash and the payment of his debts if he would destroy his exposé and leave the country. (13)

With Morgan’s willingness to leave taken care of, Whitney then went to Canandaigua the next day to involve Nicholas Chesebro in the plan, both men being known to each other through their membership in the Knights Templar at Rochester. (14) The two men agreed that the easiest way to get Morgan quietly out of Batavia was to have him arrested, (15) Ebenezer Kingsley being persuaded to press charges against Morgan for the shirt and cravat Morgan had borrowed from him the previous May, but had yet to return.

Morgan’s journey from the jail at Canandaigua to Fort Niagara is covered by Morris in the course of a few pages that make a hero of Whitney for staying with Morgan the whole journey as they changed horses and carriages, all donated by Masons willing to help separate Morgan from his publisher David Miller. (16) In Whitney’s account of the story, he was joined by Eli Bruce and Col. William King at Lockport and the three men traveled with Morgan from Youngstown to the soldier’s burial ground, a half mile from Fort Niagara in the early hours of September 14, 1826. (17) When Whitney, King and Bruce arrived at the river’s edge, Edward Giddins and Elisha Adams transported the three men and Morgan across the river to a deserted bank on the Canadian side, a mile from the Village of Niagara. (18) Morgan remained in the boat with Giddins and Adams, while Bruce, King and Whitney went to the village and met with two Canadian Masons, men Whitney was unprepared to reveal to Morris 33 years after the event. (19)

After a while, the Canadian Masons returned to the boat with their American counterparts and Bruce summoned Morgan to join the five men on the shore. With nothing but the moon and a couple of lanterns to light the night, Morris would have his reader believe that Colonel King made notes on several points Morgan swore to before the party of Masons:

“First. That he had contracted with Miller and others, to write an exposition of Masonry, for which he was to receive one half-million dollars compensation.

“Second. That he had never been made a Mason in any Lodge, but had received the Royal Arch Degree in a regular manner. Furthermore, that he felt bound by his Royal Arch obligation and never intended to reveal the secrets of that degree.

“Third. That Miller and the other partners had utterly failed to fulfill the terms of contract with him.

“Fourth. That Whitney had paid him $50 at Danolds’ Tavern (Batavia), and he had agreed to destroy the written and printed work so far as possible and furnish no more, and that before leaving Batavia he had done what he promised in that way.

“Fifth. That it was impossible now for Miller to continue the “Illustrations,” as he [Morgan] had written them. If he published any book, it would have to be made from some other person’s materials.

“Sixth. That Miller was only an Entered Apprentice, and ‘rusty as hell’ at that.

“Seventh. That he had been treated by Chesebro, Whitney, Bruce and all of them, with perfect kindness in his journey, and he had nothing but the best of feelings for them.

“Eighth. That he was willing and anxious to be separated from Miller and from all idea of a Masonic Exposé; wished to live in habits of industry and respectability before all men; wished to go to the interior of Canada and settle down as a British citizen; wished to have his family sent him soon as possible; might want to go to Quebec some time and have his eyes operated on; expected five hundred dollars when he reached the place as agreed upon; expected more money from year to year to help him out if necessary and if he should show himself worthy of it.

“Ninth. Finally he was sorry for the uproar his proceedings had made; was sorry for the expense he had put the Masons to; sorry for the disgrace he and his family had suffered; sorry for the shame and mortification of his friends, and he ‘had no idea that David Cade Miller was such a damned scoundrel as he turned out to be.’” (20)

Whitney claimed that the Canadian Masons, although prepared to take Morgan as agreed, couldn’t do so for a week and were unprepared to keep him during the interim. Morgan consented to being locked up in the powder magazine at Fort Niagara until that time and Edward Giddins prepared the room with a mattress, chair and other items for Morgan’s personal comfort. (21) Morgan finally left the magazine on September 17, 1826 when the two Canadians came over to the American side, gave Whitney a receipt for the $500 they were to give Morgan and returned to the western side of the river. Whitney claimed that the two Canadian Masons rode on horseback with Morgan from the Village of Niagara to a spot near present day Hamilton, Ontario where they had him sign a receipt for the $500 and a document outlining the circumstances of his deportation, as well as a promise not to return to the United States without the permission of Colonel William King, Sheriff Eli Bruce or John Whitney. (22) Conveniently, all of the documents vanished when they could have been used to prove the innocence of the abductors.

Morris was a master at telling his audience what they wanted to hear. It is important to remember that Freemasonry had only recently returned from a period of Masonic darkness that ran for nearly two decades and was only now beginning to grow to strength after the conclusion of the American Civil War. But it was also a time when The National Christian Association, assisted by Thurlow Weed, were rekindling anti-Masonic feelings with the former’s erection of the Morgan monument in 1882 and the latter’s death bed support of the same. One can hardly blame Morris for wanting to defend Freemasonry, an institution he loved, and his book William Morgan was released within months of the erection of the Morgan monument.

But is it a true account of what happened? As much as we would like to believe every word of Morris’ account, it is a lie.

William Morgan was not Morris’ first book on the subject. In 1861, two years after his alleged interview with John Whitney, he published 1,000 copies of the book The Masonic Martyr: The Biography of Eli Bruce, Sheriff of Niagara county N.Y., who for his attachment to the principles of Masonry, and his fidelity to his trust, was imprisoned twenty-eight months in the Canandaigua jail. (23) This book, as the lengthy title implies, was designed to remove the shadow that had been cast over the name of Eli Bruce, who had received the harshest sentence of any of the Morgan conspirators. Although the bulk of the book recounts the 28 months Bruce spent in the Canandaigua jail (the same jail from which Morgan was taken in the middle of the night) Morris offers a chapter on the abduction of Morgan and one on the anti-Masonic party. It is these two chapters that are most telling in light of Morris’ later treatment of the subject. Although frequently softening the blow against Freemasonry, Morris presents his reader with a fairly straightforward account of the Morgan story up to his placement in the powder magazine at Fort Niagara, even leveling criticism at Freemasons for being imprudent in their actions and murderous threats against Morgan. (24) It is only in his closing paragraphs that Morris provides us with the embryo of an idea that he would carry to full term two decades later:

“Our own surmise, which, after a careful perusal of all the testimony, and much questioning of the remaining actors in the abduction who still survive, may perhaps be as good as any other, is that Morgan was abundantly supplied with money by those who had expended so much, and run such risks to separate him from Miller and his confederates, and that he was assisted to pass into Canada, the scene of his former adventures, where among a rough and lawless border population, he met the end likely to befall a drunken, boasting fellow, whose pockets were sufficiently well lined to render him a desirable prey.

“Certainly, there is no evidence that he was murdered by Freemasons. The facts that they took him openly from the jail at Canandaigua, that they left a broad trail behind them, for more than one hundred and fifteen miles through a thickly settled country, and, that so many were admitted into the secret of the abduction, forbid such a supposition; the character of all the actors from Mr. N. G. Chesebro, the earliest, to Col. William King, the latest, forbid it even more strongly. That the abduction was a consummate piece of folly, from first to last, it is easy at this period to affirm; but, those who affirm it the most loudly, had they felt the provocations the brethren in Western New York experienced, might have committed the same error. In our private notes of Masonic History since 1846, we find more than one “Morgan case,” which was only prevented from coming to a head by the prudence of a few, who remembered the dark days of Eli Bruce and Col. King, and taught discretion to the more rash and indignant.” (25)

In the foregoing excerpt we see a Rob Morris who was willing to accept that Morgan was likely murdered, albeit by a lawless band of Canadians waiting at the border for wealthy American drunkards, but perhaps more importantly, we see an acceptance that Freemasons could and did act rashly and improperly in the abduction of William Morgan in the fall of 1826. Morris accepts that the abduction of Morgan was “a consummate piece of folly,” but defends the abductors against the pointing fingers of their detractors by stating that “had they felt the provocations the brethren in Western New York experienced, might have committed the same error.” In other words, their actions were faulty, but justified.

If, as Morris claimed, John Whitney told him the full story in 1859, why did he not include it in his 1861 biography of Eli Bruce? It is certainly possible that Morris promised to keep the information confidential until Whitney’s death, but the man died in 1869. And yet, Morris waited until 1883, more than a decade later to finally put the story in print. The timing of his book to coincide with renewed anti-Masonic attacks makes it likely that Morris needed a version of the Whitney story of his own? Given the closing words of his book William Morgan, it is almost certain that Rob Morris, one of the most respected Masonic authors of his day, created the Morgan deportation story to defend his beloved Freemasonry:

“But I protest that I never would have published this work—though I had long been collecting materials for it—if that old man’s drivelings had been suppressed.

“The Masonic Order had so completely outlived Weed and his party and his hatreds, we were doing so well, that I should have buried the subject in oblivion and destroyed the material so laboriously accumulated rather than open a quarrel of which [Millard] Fillmore, [William H.] Seward, John Quincy Adams, Thaddeus Stevens and all the more respectable members of the Anti-Masonic party had become heartily ashamed before they died. Only one man was left, and he imbecile in body and mentally feeble, who could reopen the subject. Of all men living he was most interested in keeping the matter still. What evil spirit was it, then, that drew Thurlow Weed from his retirement to poison the community with Anti-Masonic slanders even with his dying breath.” (26)

With no conviction in the murder of William Morgan, all we are left with today is a 183-year-old cold case; a case which the Masonic fraternity closed long ago, long after it had rebuilt itself from the ashes of anti-Masonic fires and long after one of its most sainted apologists had written the version of the story Freemasons wanted to hear, the one they needed to believe, the one that has been repeated time and again until it can be quoted as if it were a part of the Masonic ritual. Although we may not know the ultimate fate of William Morgan, it is my hope that at least one myth has finally been put to rest.

Stephen Dafoe is the author of MORGAN: The Scandal That Shook Freemasonry, available from this site

It is also available from:

www.stephendafoe.com

www.amazon.com

http://www.freemasoninformation.com/2009/06/morgan-the-scandal-that-shook-freemasonry/

Be sure to catch the interview on Masonic Central on June 14 at 6 p.m. PT.

Endnotes

1. Stone, William L. Letters on Masonry and Anti-Masonry addressed to the Hon. John Quincy Adams. New York, NY: G. Halstead, 1832. p. 538.

2. Berry, Robert. The Bright Mason: An American Mystery. Booklocker, 2008. p. 142.

3. Stone Op. cit. p. 281.

4. Morris, Rob. William Morgan; or Political Anti-Masonry, its Rise, Growth and Decadence. New York, NY: Robert Macoy, 1883. p. 75

5. Weed, Thurlow. The Facts Stated. Hon. Thurlow Weed on the Morgan Abduction. Chicago, IL: National Christian Association, 1882. pp. 11 – 13.

6. The Malone Palladium December 7, 1882.

7. Morris Op. cit. p. 163.

8. Ibid. p. 164.

9. Ibid. p. 165.

10. Ibid. pp. 168,169.

11. Ibid. p. 169.

12. Ibid. p. 169.

13. Ibid. pp. 170-173.

14. Ibid. p. 174.

15. Ibid. p. 175.

16. Ibid. pp. 183-185.

17. Ibid. p. 192.

18. Ibid. p. 193.

19. Ibid. p. 193.

20. Ibid. pp. 194,195.

21. Ibid. p. 196.

22. Ibid. pp. 194-196.

23. Ibid. p. 204.

24. Morris, Rob. The Masonic Martyr; The Biography of Eli Bruce, Sheriff of Niagara County, New York. Louisville, KY: Morris and Monssarrat, 1861. p. 16

25. Ibid. pp. 23, 24.

26. Morris William Morgan. Op. cit. pp 387, 388.

The Restaurant at the End of the Masonic Universe

By Stephen Dafoe

Note: The following article originally ran in the pages of Masonic Magazine as an editorial. I am posting it for those not familiar with it, as it is referred to in the previous article, There’s a hole in our bucket.

So there is this restaurant chain with locations throughout North America. Its slogan is a pretty catchy one and the chain’s management uses it on a daily basis to motivate staff and to recruit new patrons to the chain’s thousands of locations.

The slogan is “we take good food and make it better” – eight simple words, which have struck an emotional chord with millions of people who like to eat.

There is no marketing genius behind the slogan or the success of the same in attracting people to the restaurant chain. Everyone likes good food, so it is unlikely that there is a person alive who would not like good food made better. Who could resist such a slogan?

Sadly, the restaurant chain seldom lives up to its own slogan. The restaurants are often poorly decorated – their tables and chairs wobbly and in need of repair. Staff often quarrel with one another and the management, too often, seem only to be concerned with climbing the corporate ladder to the head office. The food, so much talked about is bland at best and dreadful at worst.

Yet as each new patron comes in for the first time to sample this “good food made better” he sees a group of smiling faces, all lapping up the meal as if it was the greatest food on the planet – just like the advertising people said it was.

The new patron does his best to eat his meal even though the food offered does not appeal to the palate as sweetly as the words used to describe it. Not wishing to show his displeasure to his two friends who sponsored him – for it is, after all, an exclusive restaurant – he sits in silence eating his meal with each mouth full being as forced as the smile on his face.

Sometimes the patron simply pays his tab, leaves the restaurant and vows never to return to the establishment. However, sometimes the patron decides that maybe he just went on a bad night – perhaps the staff was having a bad day because the regular cook was away. Perhaps those people enjoying the meal were just being kind and did not want to offend the new cook.

He decides to give the “good food made better” joint one more try.

Returning on another night he sees the same dozen patrons who were there the month previous – they are still arguing with one another about which fork you should use for the salad and the proper way to hold a wine glass. The manager is still ignoring the new customers in favor of the company higher-ups seated at a back table who he is trying to convince of his suitability for a more prominent position in the firm.

What’s worse – the food is still bland, boring and not what the sign on the door proclaims – yet the regulars are still lapping it up like it’s their last meal.

This time the patron decides that the marketing slogan is nothing more than eight simple words cleverly arranged to deprive him of his hard earned money.

The thought occurs to him that maybe he could pull the manager away from the corporate wheels long enough to suggest a few small things that could truly make the good food better. However, he has a sinking feeling that he would be told, “but we’ve always cooked it this way before” or “we tried that once and the patrons didn’t like it.” He feels he might even be told that “the head office would never allow it.”

So instead of voicing his concerns, exercising the old business axiom that the customer is always right, he says nothing. Instead he leaves the restaurant and vows never to return – either canceling his pre-booked reservations on the way out the door or never returning and having his membership cancelled by the chain via a nasty letter.

He wonders how it is that the restaurant survives and why the same dozen diners seem to enjoy the food so much.

His conclusion is a simple one – they like things the way they are and the establishment will never change so long as the chain is run by people who like to make bland food and patronized by people who like to eat the same.

And so we come to a problem that is rife within Freemasonry today.

We advertise ourselves as an organization that makes good men better, and while that is precisely what we have done for millions of men over the centuries, it cannot be argued that we are letting down the many young men who enter our doors who feel cheated and deceived.

“I really feel that I have been sold a pack of lies,” wrote one such young mason recently on an Internet discussion forum.

How sad it is that a young man, who has been a Mason for one year would feel that he has been lied to by an organization that has Truth as one of its three greatest attributes.

“This is not the Masonry I signed up for,” he continued in his posting and in so stating arrives at the crux of our problem.

Freemasonry in large parts of the United States and Canada is not offering what it is advertising, but if it advertised what it offered – would it receive many new candidates.

“Freemasonry – we take good men and let them sit in a room and listen to the reading of minutes and 45-minute debates on spending $50 on why we should or should not buy a plaque to show what great guys we are.”

It just does not have the same marketing strength as “Freemasonry – we take good men and make them better”.

Unfortunately our young brethren, past and present have tried to improve what Freemasonry offers within the tiled recesses of our lodges, but are met with resistance at each step of the way.

We say we are about making good men better through self improvement – yet few are the lodges who apply the working tools within the body of a lodge to educate our young members as to how to do this.

The Masonic Information Center (MIC) recently released a publication entitled, “It’s About Time.” The publication identifies the problems currently confronting Masonic identity and offers sound solutions for the same.

One of the most powerful statements in the 17 page document follows:

“The Square and Compasses, the best known symbol of a Mason, cannot replace the identity of living the life of a Mason, which is itself perpetually in a state of improving ourselves in body, mind, and spirit. Masonic imagery is a valuable resource when it inspires us to take new action consistent with our personal growth and enlightened thought. We must discover our own Masonic calling, our own place in the history of Masonry, by making authentic Masonic performance our top priority.”

However, we have allowed, as the MIC points out in the publication, Masonry to be shaped by the 20th century’s emphasis on the Masonic ritual being the completion of the Mason’s education about his fraternity.

Like the analogy of the restaurant chain, little changes in how lodges deliver Masonic lessons because the same dozen patrons sit in her seats and run the show.

Those men, like the restaurant patrons in our analogy, come back month after month and year after year because they enjoy the bland food – a meal that is largely comprised of recitation of minutes, tedious debates over how funds are dispersed and arguments over when and how to salute the Worshipful Master.

And when a young man, initiated, passed and raised leaves because he finds the meal unappetizing, he is viewed as a disgruntled customer, which the restaurant is better off without.

The recipe of Freemasonry is as sound today as it was three hundred years ago – it is the present kitchen of stubborn cooks who need to be tossed out.

Closing Note: Before anyone starts yammering about joining a good lodge, let me assure you I have done precisely that. This article is meant to convey the message of why things seldom change. It is not a commentary on my own present situation in lodge.

There’s a hole in our bucket

By Stephen Dafoe

The following article originally appeared in Issue 2 of The Masonic Society Journal.

North American Freemasonry is on a bit of an infinite loop these days. I don’t mean the type of infinite loop we used to see on the Flintstones whenever Fred and Barney would drive past the same three houses and two palm trees over and over again, but it is close. The type of infinite-loop motif I’m referring to is the type that forms the basis of songs like 99 Bottle of Beer or There’s a Hole in my Bucket. In fact, both songs represent two of the problems confronting many lodges today with respect to our declining membership.

Now, before you turn the page, let me assure you this is not another article lamenting our sagging numbers, nor is it a rallying call for us to rise towards that lofty Masonic pinnacle that was the Halcyon Days of the post-World War II influx. But we will be looking at the numbers, not with an eye towards depression, but with an eye towards resolution. We have a problem, but if we can truly know where the problem lies, and if we can convince enough Masons that this is actually the case, we can collectively begin to work towards fixing it.

What the numbers tell us:

Since 1925, the Masonic Service Association of North America (MSANA) has been keeping track of the numbers of Freemasons in the United States. Without launching into a long and boring examination of the ebb and flow of these numbers, let it suffice to say that Masonic membership’s highest point in terms of numbers was 1959, when it boasted 4,103,161 members; its lowest point occurring in 2007, when our ranks had been reduced to just 1,483,449. Ironically, our highest point in terms of membership may well have been our lowest point for Freemasonry, or at least the start of it.

The hand ringers in our fraternity love to hold on to that 1959 membership number like the middle aged bachelor who holds onto the photo of the fashion model he dated in college, as if it were a goal he may yet attain once more. But as both pine away for a desire that has longed since passed the realm of possibility, they begin to tell themselves lies to justify their current situation.

As such, our hand ringers have created a long-standing belief that once upon a time Freemasons made up a sizable percentage of the population in American communities. However, if one compares the US census with the MSANA membership statistics, an interesting and revealing picture emerges. In 1930, only 2.66 per cent of the population belonged to the Masonic fraternity. By 1940, that percentage had been reduced to 1.86% – largely due to the effects of the Great Depression, men simply couldn’t afford their dues. It reached its lowest point in 2000, when less than 1 per cent of the US population could say they owned a Masonic apron. But even in the midst of those glory days our hand ringers so love to remind us about, only 2.41 per cent of the population belonged to the Craft. If we divide and multiply these figures to represent a male population of roughly 50 per cent, then we see that even at our highest percentile penetration in 1930, only 5 in 100 American males were Freemasons – this is a far cry from the cries of deep lamentation emanating from the lips of our loudest hand ringing Brethren that once upon a time almost every American male was a mason. And yet, they will cling to that four-million-plus-Masons figure like cat hair to black pants, failing to accept that the much brandied about number represents nothing more than a sociological anomaly. It was that influx of men who swelled the Craft’s ranks between 1945 and 1959 that, in many ways set the tone for the downward spiral towards the Masonic caliginosity we have experienced in the decades since. Although many became dedicated members of the Craft, expanding their learning through books and periodicals, discussions and debates, many who took on leadership rules were attracted by the formality of the ritual, to the point where it became the beginning and end of a Master Mason’s education.

Perhaps the greatest decade for Freemasonry – at  least from a point of research, education and all around Masonic bigness – was  the 1920s; a decade that saw the creation of the National Masonic Research Society and its publication The Builder, a magazine that offered the words and thoughts of the great Masonic luminaries of the day. It was also a decade where Masons displayed their Masonic pride, not by the number of pins on their lapels, but by the number of elegant buildings on Main Street. It was during the 1920s that great Masonic buildings including the House of the Temple in Washington DC, The George Washington Masonic National Memorial in Alexandria, Virginia and the Detroit Masonic Temple in Michigan transformed from idea to reality. That decade, which I’ve long-argued to be the most enlightening for Freemasonry, saw an increase in membership of just above four per cent.

But then the Great Depression reduced membership roles by almost 25 per cent by then end of the 1930s. In fact membership continued to decline until America entered the Second World War in 1941, and that is when the anomaly occurred. By the end of the 1940s, Masonic membership had increased by more than 42 percent, carrying a forward momentum through most of the 1950s, which saw an increase of 16 percent from the decade before. From this point on membership has been on a steady decline, with the present decade – now about to enter its final year – on a fast track to surpassing the 1990s, the current record holder for membership seepage.

It is a mistake for us to pine away for a resurgence of the anomaly that was the 1940s and 1950s. The WWII soldier returned home and, looking for the camaraderie of the barracks, he sought to find it in fraternal societies like Freemasonry. This inflated our membership roles like a windfall inflates a bank account, but like the lottery winner who does not invest his new found money properly; it is soon piddled away until nothing remains.

Another tale the hand ringers love to tell us, especially those who have more steps behind them than they have left ahead of them, is that men are not joining today like they used to, and that we are losing members from death faster than we can replace them through initiations. Certainly, if one considers “not joining like they used to” to be those post-war Halcyon Days previously discussed, then I’m more than willing to concede the point. However, if there is one myth in Freemasonry that has gained wide currency and firm traction, it is the notion that Masons are dying faster than we can replace them.

What the numbers don’t tell us!

In 2005 I was asked to deliver the keynote address to the Western Canada Conference – an annual gathering of the Grand lines of British Columbia, Alberta, Saskatchewan and Manitoba. Part of my presentation sought to dispel this myth that the Grim Reaper was using his scythe to cut a swath through the fraternity. Whereas, the MSANA numbers only give us the annual bottom line, I was able to look at the big picture closer to home by tracking specifics in our membership statistics over an eight-year period.

What I discovered was that, like the rest of North America, Alberta had a sizable hole in our Masonic bucket; 1,777 of our Brethren had affiliated with the Grand Lodge above, leaving us with a net loss of 1,512 members between 1996 and 2003. But this is not where our problem was because the numbers showed that in that same period of time, 3,118 men had joined, affiliated or renewed their membership in one of our lodges.

In an ideal world, the difference between deaths and new members should have seen Alberta experience a 14 per cent growth in that time, but instead we were dwindling, just like everywhere else. The question was why? Where was the hole in our Masonic bucket that was causing the decline? It wasn’t through deaths; we were clearly finding the men to replace ourselves. The answer was through demits and suspensions for non payment of dues (SNPD); a combined loss of 2,863 over the eight years. When added to the deaths, we had lost a total of 4,640 men, while gaining a respectable 3,118. The hole in our Masonic bucket had been found and, as I’ve learned, it is not an isolated situation.

This past November I was keynote speaker at the Grand Lodge of Manitoba’s Masonic workshop and presented a similar address and findings, chronicling their past six years of data. Like Alberta, Manitoba has a hole in its Masonic bucket, caused by demits and suspensions outpacing new members. Between 2002 and 2007 Manitoba saw 856 men join, affiliate or reinstate their memberships. During that same time, 753 Manitoba Masons have died; again leaving a positive number between membership losses and gains. Like Alberta, their hole is caused by the combination of demits and SNPDs. In the past six years the province has seen 1,355 men leave the Masonic fraternity.

But the Craft lodge in Canada is not alone in finding it has a bucket with the same hole. Membership statistics from the Grand Encampment of Knights Templar show that between 2004 and the end of September 2008, 17,470 American Freemasons have become Templars, while 9,576 have taken a demit and another 21,706 have been suspended for non payment of dues. Add to this the 22,546 Templars who have gone on to join their creator, and you have 36,358 fewer Knights Templar marching about.  But perhaps marching about is precisely the problem. Perhaps the men who are joining today are joining to parade about like the sword-wielding Templars of old and disappointed to find only old Templars parading about doing sword drill. It is a question only the Grand Encampment and those who are left remain in her Commanderies can resolve, but like the Craft Lodges, its bucket is leaking primarily from the same rusted out hole.

Towards a solution

Back when I was editor of the short-lived Masonic Magazine, I wrote an editorial titled The Restaurant at the End of the Masonic Universe. Without republishing the editorial here, it told the story of a restaurant that does not live up to its advertising slogan, “We make good food better,” an obvious play on our own slogan “We take good men and make them better.” The editorial, which has received equal doses of praise and criticism, sought to explain in a light manner the malaise affecting Freemasonry today and the true cause for the hole in our bucket.

Every mason has heard the expression “but we’ve always done it that way before.” The fact that it is used as the butt of Masonic jokes serves as proof positive of its longevity and power in maintaining a status quo. But, as we have seen by what the MSANA numbers don’t show us, the status quo is draining our buckets. As the allegory of my restaurant editorial showed, the reason things suck in many lodges is because the men who show up month after month like things that suck. They do so because they enjoy the bland food; not the shoe-leather roast beef and off color green beans, but the Masonic meal that is largely comprised of recitation of minutes, tedious debates over how funds are dispersed and arguments over when and how to salute the Worshipful Master. Clearly these are not the things that appeal to the men who are leaving our ranks. If they were, they’d be with us still. But instead of spending our energies trying to retain them, we devote our efforts to finding their replacements.

For as long as I have been a Freemason, we have been trying to fill a bucket that has a sizable hole in it. Like Henry in the famed children’s song, we have whined through the infinite loop of reasons why we can’t fix the bucket and like Jack in the classic nursery rhyme, have rolled down the hill, our empty bucket tumbling behind us. Like children on a bus trip we have done our rendition of 99 Bottle of Beer by repeating the same pattern ad nausea, as one by one our members – like the bottles of beer on the wall – vanish.

Unfortunately, we are not doing a good enough job  identifying what it is that the men who are joining are looking for, which is – in almost all cases – that which they cannot get any place else – FREEMASONRY! They are looking to be educated in the Masonic Craft, in the art of being a gentleman in a world that has largely forgotten what one was, and in how they can be part of – to quote my jurisdiction’s ritual – “the society of men who prize honor and virtue above the external advantages of rank and fortune.” In short, they want to be taught the things about themselves and the world in which they live that only Freemasonry can teach them. If we cannot teach them because we do not know these things ourselves, then we must learn alongside them. Then, and only then, can the hole in our Masonic bucket be truly repaired and we can return to that growth that once allowed us to select men who would most benefit from Freemasonry’s teaching and most benefit Freemasonry by their character and their conduct.

It will not be and easy task fixing this half-century old hole in our Masonic bucket; but it will not be possible at all until we accept that a failure to do so is the cause of our decline and the harbinger of our demise.

About the author

Stephen Dafoe

Stephen Dafoe

V. W. Bro Stephen Dafoe is a past Grand Steward of the Grand Lodge of Alberta, former publisher of Masonic Magazine and the author of several books on the Knights Templar and Freemasonry. In addition, Dafoe is a self-confessed anti-Internet Mason.

Ironically, his website can be found at www.stephendafoe.com and his blog at www.thelodgeroom.com.