Two Sides of Freemasonry, Part 2

"Membership has its privileges."

This slogan, employed by the American Express company years ago, appeals to a common human desire to be part of something, especially something exclusive.

This desire helps to explain the appeal of secret societies, I think.  For many people, there's something satisfying about being in the know when others are not.  That's one of the "privileges," after all.  Just think of the meme (a little dated now perhaps) that goes, "It's a _______ thing.  You wouldn't understand."  You can fill in the blank with any one of a variety of words.  Try running a search for "It's a Jeep thing" T-shirt, and you will find several options.  (We Jeep Wrangler owners also have a hand sign we use when we pass one another on the road.  I would share it with you, but, alas, I'm afraid you wouldn't understand.)

By itself, this sense of belonging is fairly harmless, as long as the belongers are not lording their membership over others, excluding others from belonging . . . or worse.

It's a Mason Thing

Freemasonry certainly has come with privileges.  As we saw last week, the original guild of actual masons, who built things with stones or brick, began to admit non-masons to bolster their numbers.  For some, it seems, joining this secret society was a way to feel special and flaunt their specialness.  In an article for Smithsonian, Colin Dickey, author of Under the Eye of Power: How Fear of Secret Societies Shapes American Democracy, explains:

Though the colonists rejected the British system of aristocracy that valued inheritance over merit, men of stature still sought a means of displaying their wealth and influence. Masonry, with its secret oaths and public pageantry, offered them an avenue to do that: Not only were Masonic lodges open only to the connected, but their members also proudly displayed their status through elaborate parades, marching in white gloves, finely embroidered aprons and other status symbols.

Dickey's description presents a provocative paradox of spectacle and secrecy, of what you see and what you get--if you have the privileges of membership.  Both the splendor and the secrets were the special possessions of members; everyone else was on the outside looking in, but seeing only what the Masons wanted them to see.

What the Masons of that era perhaps did not consider, however, is that such a showy (and no-showy) display can breed not only awe, but also dislike.  Just as we like belonging, we also resent not belonging.

In the early nineteenth century, thus, the Masons' behavior sometimes incurred distaste.  The secrecy, in particular, also probably sowed distrust.  What exactly were these men doing when no one else was looking?

This is another downside of being a secret society: the members may be doing entirely harmless or even very altruistic things, but secrecy breeds suspicion.  Maybe they are hiding their actions because, well, they have something to hide.

What happened to William Morgan?

In that era, the Masons did have something--some things, in fact--to hide.

A bricklayer named William Morgan knew what was going on behind the scenes of Freemasonry--some of it anyway--because he was a member.  In the early 1820s, he set out to expose some of the Masons' secrets by working with a publisher named David Miller to make them public.

As Dickey explains, the members of Morgan's lodge went to great lengths to head him and Miller off before they could expose the society's secrets, from filing "frivolous lawsuits" against Miller to going through Morgan's things while he was in jail on "trumped-up charges" of stealing some clothing.  On September 10, 1826, someone set fire to Miller's print shop.

Finally, Morgan mysteriously disappeared.

The circumstances of his disappearance are chilling.  Morgan had been arrested a second time, this time on a charge of owing $2 for something, but a stranger covered his bail so that he was released.  Then, as Dickey writes . . .

As he was being led away from the jail, he saw a carriage waiting for him and began screaming, "Murder! Murder!" as he was shoved roughly inside. The incident marked the last time anyone saw Morgan alive.

To this day, no one knows what happened to William Morgan.

More Than Secret Rituals

Not everything that appears to be a conspiracy is actually a conspiracy, but Morgan's mysterious disappearance is only part of the story.

In a memoir, Samuel D. Greene, who had belonged to the same Masonic Lodge as Morgan, wrote that "these men, who were the leaders in this plot against Morgan and Miller, were men of standing and character. They were at the time holding the most important offices in church and state."

They weren’t alone. Dickey explains that Freemasons had “thoroughly infiltrated American government—at least at the local level” and “held an effective monopoly on power.” Masons, in short, were the ones puffing and pulling strings in the proverbial smoke-filled rooms.

"Amid this structural corruption, opponents began to speak out more openly against Masonry in general,” Dickey writes. “Over the coming decades, in newspapers and speeches, they began to denounce the fraternity as a cult that wielded undue influence. Hidden behind the scenes, pulling the strings, the Masons were wreaking havoc on American democracy and had to be stopped.”

In 1828—notably on July 4—people in a town in New York even published a “Declaration of Independence From the Masonic Institution.” At the national level, some people even formed a third party to challenge the two major political parties at that time, the Whigs and the Democrats. It was called—lest anyone miss the point—the Anti-Masonic Party.

Although this party’s candidate in the 1832 presidential election secured only 8 percent of the vote, losing to Democrat Andrew Jackson, anti-Masonic sentiment was real and widespread. Eight percent of American voters is still a lot of people. “Masonic membership plummeted over the course of the 1820s and early 1830s; enrollments were cut nearly in half, and almost no new lodges were opened for a decade,” Dickey explains. “Where it had once been an asset to be a Mason in America, it was now a liability.”

Power in Numbers

Not many fraternal organizations can be said to have inspired a major political party.  In fact, I know of just one: the Masons.  Today, in fact, the thought seems a little comical.  An Anti-Elks Party or an anti-Rotary party would probably raise more eyebrows than campaign funds.

The reason, I think, is twofold.  For one thing, the Elks, the Moose, Rotary International, and other organizations seem fairly innocuous to most of us.  As a member of Rotary myself, I can say that I have never attended a meeting in a smoke-filled room, much less made any weighty decisions about the fate of the country there.  We are not conspiratorial, exclusive, or secretive.  We don't even have a secret handshake.

We do collaborate to serve our communities and the world, though, and that brings me to the second reason.  Rotary is a service organization, working to eradicate polio, serve children in need, and, well, just make things better. It's hard to imagine why anyone would be Anti-Rotary unless you happen to be a polio virus.

There's power in numbers.  Organizations--Masons, Elks, Rotary members, and others--are more powerful than their individual members, and they could conspire to do harm--by subverting laws or even murdering a fellow member to silence him, or they could combine their efforts to feed children and combat polio.

Ultimately, it is not the group that is good or bad, but the individuals within it and how they choose to use their power.

Next week, I will wrap up this series with a look at a classic short story in which Freemasonry makes a cameo appearance: Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Cask of Amontillado.”