Shades of Grey

It is said that Common Purpose is the new Freemasons. But what of the old Freemasons?

My Father was a Mason, joining in the early seventies. His Brother had been a Member much longer than that, which to my mind made it a somewhat less credible organisation. After all, distorting Groucho Marx somewhat, I wouldn’t want to join a club that would let Uncle Knobhead in as a Member.

Dad was happy to tell me about what went on at a Masonic meeting, although he wouldn’t reveal what the legendary secrets were. In those days before the Internet, the best I could find out about it was Stephen Knight’s Book: The Brotherhood. IIRC, Knight was an investigative journalist and what he revealed wasn’t particularly shocking. (I was much more shocked by Death of a Princess which I watched in Saudi Arabia, although it was of course proscribed there. (So was booze & Porn but there seemed to be plenty of it around in the Aramcosphere).

I talked to Dad about what Knight claimed- Dad thought that Masonry went back to ancient Egyptian times rather than the rather more practical scenario that it was a 17th Century Gents Club slightly jealous of the camaraderie enjoyed by working class guilds and trades. He painted a picture of a benign organisation, where the members looked out for each other but within the constraints of a strict value system. Dad also never asked me to consider joining, explaining that Masons never invited new Members, they were to be approached by prospective Members and had to be of good character to get in. Whether this was a hint or not, I never asked because I wasn’t really interested. Being my Dad, I was of the view that he was remarkably ignorant and knew nothing much at all of life (or so I thought. I was impressed in my early twenties to realise how much knowledge he had gained whilst I was away at college & early working years!). I did have a look at his Masonic paraphernalia once or twice. In the black case was his Pinny (light blue & cream with an adjustable strap and an S shaped Buckle just like what the Boy Scouts wore), a little blue book and some miscellaneous meeting papers, called Summonses. (Agendas would be a more useful term, although Round Table and Councils use the term Summonses for Agendas, whilst Courts use it is well. The Summons part means just that: there is an obligation on the recipient to attend with the threat of sanctions.)

The little blue book was an enigma; this contained the ritual as performed at the meetings (to something known as “Northumbrian Workings”) and had a number of set routines called such things as Opening, Initiating, Passing, Raising and of course, Closing. However, it was written in a simple code; many words would be incomplete or dashed, so that S____E actually meant Square. Masons were expected to learn these rituals to the point that they were word perfect, which meant going to lots of practice sessions (and actual meetings) to fill in the blanks by rote. The other confusion within this script was that the actors were disguised by abbreviations as well, so the SD raising his W__D and proceeding on the S____E L__T F_T first, saluting the SW in P_____G just read as so much nonsense.

During this time of puzzled discovery, I saw a Play for Today on the Idiot’s Lantern, where two pre-teenage girls invented their own secret society based on finding one of the Dads’ Apron Boxes & Ritual Book. They had good fun inventing what the words were based on their own childhood innocence. Today, anyone can go into Toye, Kenning & Spencer (or even go online) to buy the stuff over the counter and most of the words are there (apart from the ones of recognition).

Fast Forward a decade or two and some new friends. One bloke that I got on really well with revealed that he was a Mason after a protracted series of running gags about Management being a (clueless) Secret Society. He didn’t do it cold, of course, I had said that my Dad was one and Uncle K as well. He told me that in Masonic Circles I was a Lewis, which basically meant that I was the Son of a Freemason. Over a period of time, he revealed enough of what went on at his Lodge meetings to get me interested and when I decided to approach him, he was pleased to introduce me to an older Member who agreed to be my co-sponsor. (Like many clubs, people have to be proposed and seconded for consideration). I was advised that it would take some time, as they only met four times a year and I’d have to go to an interview before the next meeting then leave afterwards.

The day duly arrived and I turned up at the Masonic Centre in New South Gate, my Lodge’s home (along with dozens of others). I didn’t get to see too much of it, just the lobby areas and a small meeting room, where I was joined by what felt like about a dozen or so others, all crammed in like the spoof military briefing in “Attack of the Killer Tomatoes”. Everyone looked like they were taking a break from Evangelist doorknocking school 101, with their similar dark suits, white shirts and black ties. They seemed friendly enough, the questionings earnest and I answered them truthfully with a smile. Many of the answers of course are based on ignorance, as you cannot really know why you want to get involved in something if you don’t entirely know what it is all about. Only one question momentarily nonplussed me; “Do you intend to obtain pecuniary advantage from Freemasonry?” I immediately thought- what the bloody hell does that mean? After a brief reflection, I realised it meant did I intend to make money out of it in some way, the answer, of course, being “No.”

I was advised the following day that I had been accepted (subject to background checks) and that I should turn up a couple of months later for my initiation- and was I allergic to goats? (The use of a goat in ceremony is a running gag in Round Table as well as Freemasonry). Anyway, I was duly initiated and continued attending for several years, having many laughs along the way. Dad was delighted that I had joined the brotherhood and also joined my Lodge as he was living down south by then.

These days I am a lapsed Mason- I more or less lost touch with my mother lodge mainly from moving north, but also with my friend dropping out as well (he had a big hissy fit with them the year he was due to go through the chair for the same reason that every club goes through rocky patches- the same old faces doing most of the graft and people getting fed up with it). At the end of the day, despite the mysticism, it is basically just a hobby, albeit a quirky one. The main thing that probably nailed it for me was that I couldn’t involve my Wife in it- Masonry remains the last bastion of single-sexism. (Although there is a parallel organisation in Britain for women that does exactly the same thing, often in the same rooms, but probably better. United Grand Lodge pretends that it doesn’t exist though!)

Did I see anything underhand or corrupt in my own experience of Masonry? Not at all, and I would have been the first one out of the door and writing my resignation letter had I seen it. People naturally favour others in their business when there is a connection, but I did that in Round Table, supporting the local Jeweller, DIY store & Carpetmonger- when it made sense to do so. Being in a Lodge is very much progressing through roles, from the most lowly to the revered & the the keen progress onwards through Provincial roles to national responsibility, just like any other voluntary organisation.

In Masonic Circles, I am still a Mason (you are initiated so on that basis you are in for life), but not of good standing, as I am not a paid up member anywhere. That means that I can visit any lodge once only but not a second time without re-instating my membership and getting a confirmation from my mother lodge that I am legit. However, in my advancing years, I find the quasi-religious tone of the ritual a bit uncomfortable to match with my agnosticism. All Masons have to believe in a supreme being, the almighty architect of the universe, but it doesn’t require any specific religion as such, although the volume of sacred law is of course the bible in most cases. There are some Masons that take it way too seriously, but there are old men that take model railways far too seriously as well.

I’ve had overtures to rejoin in recent years and have visited two Lodges in the local area, (as well as being a guest of Uncle Knobhead ‘oop north) although each time I went, it reminded me how inflexibly heirarchical it was in the organisational structure and how faintly ridiculous the rituals were. (Hearing someone boom out “WHOM HAVE YOU THERE?” in a strong regional accent is always good for a chuckle).

Masonic meetings finish with the festive board, a meal & a fair bit of booze along with a prescribed list of speeches & toasts (& sometimes singing). Now that I’m a diabetic, that is another reason to not get too bothered by not being an active member.

So what is the Square Dealers? A spoof Freemasons invented for Coronation Street, obviously with insider knowledge, we all found it hilarious!