Mel Blanc and His Shriner Buddies

Mel Blanc was a part of everyone’s childhood. There was a time you couldn’t get away from him. Warner Bros. cartoons were on TV every day (except sacred Sundays at one time), and there was Mel as the voice of Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck (my favourite), Sylvester, Porky, Foghorn Leghorn, and the list goes on. You could hear him as Barney Rubble on The Flintstones. And, at night, a local station ran old-time radio shows and there was Mel again as Jack Benny’s violin teacher (as well as a broken-down pre-Chrysler product), a “happy” postman delivering to George and Gracie, and a Mexican talking to a hayseed named Judy Canova.

Today would have been Mel’s 101st birthday.

Mel was a Mason, and I’ve documented his comments about Masonry and the Shrine from his autobiography at THIS post. But I’ve stumbled across another reference to his life as a Shriner in a recent hunt through old newspapers. This one is from The News of Van Nuys, California dated January 20, 1970. Besides Blanc’s name, I’m sure you’ll recognise one other, maybe a third if you’re a fan of 1960s sitcoms.

Entertainers Shrine Unit to Be Led by Mel Blanc
Mel Blanc, “the man of 1000 Voices,” who is known throughout the world for his movie, radio and television work, has been elected president of the Show Business Shrine Club of Al Malaikah Temple.
Blanc and other officers and directors will be installed at a dinner-dance to be held on Friday beginning at 7 p.m. in the Empire Room of Sportsmen’s Lodge, 12533 Ventura Blvd. Music and entertainment will be supplied by Manny Harmon and his orchestra.
Other new officers are Bart Conrad, first vice president; Bernie B. Lane, second vice president; Don De Fore, third vice president, and Eugene L. Zola, secretary-treasurer.
Newly elected directors are Ernest Borgnine, Tom Frandsen, Manny Harmon, John F. Golden, George B. Hunt, Paul Miller, Ralph L. Blink, Milt Canfield, William F. Hertz, Leonard D. Hess, Ben S. Levy, Theo Nowak Jr., Joe Popkin, Arthur H. Rockwell and Max Salit. Levy is chaplain, Max Kleckner is publicity chairman.
Blanc has gained international recognition by circling the world with humor for many years in a variety of performing arts — first on radio, then via animated cartoons in motion picture theaters, followed by recordings and television.
Even after more than three decades, Blanc’s voices Bugs Bunny, Sylvester Cat and Speedy Gonzales (plus a string of other distinctive characters) stall are delighting an estimated 30,000,000 daily throughout the world.
Born in San Francisco 59 years ago, Blanc was reared in Portland. Ore. He started in show business, he says, “entertaining students and teachers, getting big laughs and lousy grades.” In his early teens, he created the cackle later to become Woody Woodpecker.
Blanc and his wife Estelle, who costarred with him on his early radio shows, live in Pacific Palisades. Their son Noel is president of Mel Blanc Associates.

Borgnine is an Oscar-winner who is still gainfully employed at age 93 (any comment about his rather rowdy short marriage to Ethel Merman is best left unsaid). And Don De Fore wasted his talents in such inane laugh-tracked filled comedies like Hazel and Ozzie and Harriet. But De Fore had the lead in a great 1950s TV comedy pilot which cynically looked at the television business. It was too ahead of its time. He was a 33° member of the Scottish Rite, says his obit.

So though Mel has been dead for almost 20 years, he still lives on in the wonderful characters he helped bring to life. And, we hope, in his work with other Masons who put on a fez to help children in need.

It Was So Much Better Back Then. Really.

You know how it was “back when I was Worshipful Master.” You should. You’ve no doubt heard the old timers spout those favourite, treasured words as an introduction to stories about Masonic life in the 1950s. To hear them tell it, there were constantly holding extra nights for degrees, Lodge rooms were bulging with Freemasons, hundreds would show up to gala events. It was just so much bigger and better back then.

Uh, maybe not.

Here’s a Time Magazine article (by Senior DeMolay Fred Kiewit) from August 26, 1957. Yes, 1957. Just for fun, let’s make notes about how things have changed in 52 years.

Apathy on Lodge Night
Founded and operated for a seemingly infinite variety of reasons, ranging from royal good fellowship, to mutual financial benefit (low-cost insurance), to generously financed works of public good will,† the nation’s 248 major fraternal orders (125,861 local chapters) have shared as never before in the golden bounty of U.S. prosperity. Since 1947, overall membership in the Masonic order, biggest U.S. fraternity, has climbed 10% to 4,000,000; the Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks, second largest, reports a husky 25% gain in new dues-paying brethren to a total of 1,200,000. From Calais, Me. to Elsinore, Calif., more than 20 million U.S. males are entitled to participate in the mysteries and handclasps of one lodge or more. Estimated total assets of all the orders, including hundreds of plush new lodge halls: a thunderous $10 billion, more than the combined assets of General Motors and General Electric.

Funerals & Prizefights. Even as they burn their mortgages, contribute heavily to charities and tend their investments, lodge officials have bumped up against a discouraging fact of 1957: the old prestige and royal good fellowship just aren’t there any more. Evidence: fewer than 15% of the nation’s joiners, whether Odd Fellows, Shriners, Eagles or Woodmen, bother to show up for lodge meetings, except on rare special occasions, e.g., a New Year’s Eve party. Explains a once-earnest, now-backsliding Chicago businessman-joiner (Masons, Maccabees, Woodmen of the World): “I know I should attend. But all of a sudden, on a lodge night, I realize I haven’t been home with the family for three nights running. Then there’ll be a damn good prizefight on TV. You know what loses out.”* From the Elks to the Moose, fraternal leaders blame home TV, the automobile, the country club for the new apathy among the brethren. “The young people want something a little faster,” admits Odd Fellow Edward McCarty of Lamed, Kans. (pop. 4,447). The lodge has lost its old appeal of exclusiveness and its local VIP leaders, e.g., the town bankers. Says a Missouri Mason: “Men just won’t go out to see their mailman drone through a meeting.” Even members’ funerals, once a must for most orders, get scant attendance. Commented one Knights of Pythias bigwig in Birmingham: “The brothers just don’t have the whole spirit.”

Martinis & Stardust. To combat the downward trend, many U.S. lodges are hopefully evolving into family-style social clubs, adding TV, air conditioning, bowling alleys, restaurants. Says an Atlanta Eagle: “Our best weapons are bingo, dancing, and a good bar.” In San Mateo, Calif., the Elks boosted attendance from 40% to 70% of enrolled membership by installing a swimming pool. In bone-dry Princeton, Ky. (pop. 5,388), one lodge makes its slot machines and beer parlor a drawing card. The Knights of Columbus’ San Salvador Council No. 1 in New Haven, Conn, holds “National Nights,” when it serves up Irish, Italian or Polish dinners. But the new devices have yet to boost attendance at solemn, often boring business meetings. Says one Boise (Idaho) Moose: “We have lots of social members, very few real brothers.” Says a Seymour (Ind.) Elk: “The Elks’ bar serves the crispest martini in town, but I don’t attend meetings because I’m afraid they might try to make me an officer.”

Deciding that gimmicks are not enough, white-thatched, big-time Mason Frank S. Land, 67, of Kansas City, Mo., former Imperial Potentate of the Shrine for North America, who founded Masonry’s Order of DeMolay, last week announced a new experimental drive to restore the prestige of the nation’s biggest fraternal order. Next month Land will launch a new bellwether Masonic echelon: the Ancient and Honorable Guild of the Leather Apron, with faithful attendance at Masonic affairs a prime membership qualification. First among his prospective apron wearers: Missouri's U.S. Senator Stuart Symington, Kansas Tycoon Harry Darby, ex-President Harry Truman. Such VIPs, duly enlisted, hopes Booster Land, will constitute “a band of leaders, men with Stardust on them, who will bring back the rank and file to the lodges.”

But in Grand Junction, Colo., the newsletter of the Mason’s Local Mesa Lodge No. 55 dealt with the problem head-on in a poignant little verse:

Say, son, let’s go to lodge tonight.
We haven’t been for years.
Let’s don our little aprons white
And sit among the peers.
I want to hear the gavel ring,
to hear the organ play . . .
Pass up bridge or picture show,
your wrestling bout or fight
Switch off that darned old radio;
Let’s go to lodge tonight.

† Examples: the Shriners maintain 17 hospitals for crippled children; the Knights of Columbus donate $1,000,000 a year to charities; the Loyal Order of Moose operates a campus-style home for 800 needy offspring of deceased members.
*While the night-meeting fraternal orders languish, the civic-minded lunching clubs, e.g., Kiwanis (membership: 250,000), Rotary (450,000) and Lions (564,000) are booming. Explains one Kansas City Kiwanian: “It's the new release valve. At a Kiwanis lunch, a man can find relief from business thinking for an hour or two during a hectic day.”

Let’s see. Contained in the article are cries of woe about:
• Falling attendance.
• Boring meetings.
• Men want to spend time with families instead of go to Lodge.
• More things to do in today’s busy world.
• ‘Important’ people don’t join any more.
• New members shoved into chairs too quickly.
• Too many ‘knife and fork’ members.

Good thing Freemasonry didn’t have any of those problems “way back when.”

Oh. Wait a minute.

Death in a Lodge Room

“Remember to perform your allotted task while it is yet day, remembering the night cometh, the best and wisest of us know not how soon, in which no work can be done.”

So the newly-raised Master Mason is told during a vivid ceremony. Over the years, a far more dramatic example of that lesson has, occasionally and quite unexpectedly, been exhibited in the tyled recesses of the Lodge than what is contained in the ritual.

Today marks the 100th anniversary of a rare, but unfortunate, event. This story is from the Chicago Tribune of May 29, 1909.

MASON DIES DURING CEREMONY IN WASHINGTON CHAPTER HALL.
Robert E. Law Stricken by Apoplexy in Temple and Expires Despite Immediate Medical Aid.
Robert E. Law, one of the best known Masons in the state and one of the officials of the organization in Chicago, dropped dead last night during the initiatory ceremonies of Washington chapter No. 43, Royal Arch Masons, which were being held in the lodge rooms on the eighteenth floor of the Masonic Temple.
Mr. Law, who was a past high priest of the chapter, had started to leave the lodge room in company with several friends, when he threw up his hands and fell to the floor. His fellow members lifted him in their arms and carried him to a couch in the parlors. It was thought he had only fainted.
Dr. R.T. Johnson, who was present at the lodge meeting, hurried to the stricken man’s side and applied restoratives, but he died within a few minutes.
The widow of Mr. Law was notified at her home, 107 South Austin avenue, of her husband’s sudden death. The shock caused her to collapse. Physicians were called in to attend to her and it is said her condition is serious.
Mr. Law formerly was connected with the wholesale leather business. He was 50 years old and had been retired several years.
He was past master of the Thomas J. Turner lodge, AF & AM; past high priest of the Washington chapter, and a prominent member of the Shrine. He also was a thirty-second degree Mason.

I have not had the shocking experience of being in a Lodge room when one of our members has met with death. But I’ve heard of it happening locally during my 25 years as a Freemason. Twice, death came to the presiding officer of the Chapter of Rose Croix during a meeting. There was also the demise of Arthur Delamont of Meridian Lodge No. 108, known to the non-Masonic world as the popular and loved leader of the Kitsilano Boys Band. He had just finished giving the Address to the Worshipful Master at his Lodge’s installation when he fell dead of a heart attack. And my mind is a little fuzzy on the exact circumstances, but the Secretary of one local Lodge passed away—if I remember correctly—during the raising of one of his sons.

Then there was the case of Bill Tyre, who became a Mason in Scotland in 1910 and was still going strong in my Mother Lodge when I became a member in 1983. He was an Honorary Past Grand Master, a 33° member of the Scottish Rite, Secretary of the Royal Order of Scotland for several decades, and so on. On a Tuesday afternoon in 1986 he, as usual, sauntered into the Lodge Hall restaurant to have his lunch. He was hanging up his coat when he dropped to the floor. A paramedic who happened to be there couldn’t revive him. Bill was dead of coronary failure at age 98.

The sad irony is the room where he died had been named in his honour only a few months before.

So let this anniversary of W. Bro. Law’s farewell to his earthly journey remind us of the lesson of the 24-inch gauge—to use our time wisely and beneficially to our fellow man during our own pilgrimage from east to west, for the Grand Leveller could fell us at any moment, and we can do more but leave our reputation behind.

Masonic Livestock

For years, jokes have made the rounds about new initiates riding a Masonic goat. Masons who inflict such talk on prospective members are misguided at best, but that’s a topic for another post.

Much to my surprise, it appears there’s a different kind of livestock connected with Freemasonry—the humble cow.

The story is told in part of a recent Washington Post article on Masonic charity (which actually deals mostly with Scottish Rite and Shrine charity). You can go here to read the full article, but I’ll repost the tale (or is it ‘tail’?) Brent Morris gives about the cow because I find it interesting:

A woman doing her dissertation on Freemasonry in federalist Connecticut came across an odd item in the Masons’ list of holdings: a cow.
“Why would a Masonic lodge have a cow? That was odd. So she researched, and it turns out that a member of the lodge died and left a widow and two children,” Mr. Morris explains.
In those days, Calvinists dominated Connecticut, and one of the tenets of Calvinist theology was that material success reflected on a person's state of grace. Someone who relied on charity had fallen out of God’s favor.
“So the lodge bought a cow. And they didn’t give the cow to the woman”—that would be charity, after all—“they kept the cow. But they said, ‘Would you take care of the cow for us? Now, you’ll have to milk the cow every day, and every spring you’ll have a calf. If you don’t mind the hassle of the calf and the milk every day, then we’d appreciate if you’d look after our cow for us.’”

Perhaps the most surprising part of this article is this special Masonic cow annually procreates on its own. But, then again, there’s not supposed to be any bull in Lodge.

Charity, Masonry and Radio

It is said that a Masonic Lodge meeting consists of old guys arguing about nothing important for an hour, then repeating it all over again at the next meeting.

In some Lodges, there may be a bit of truth behind that cynicism. But it certainly can’t describe all Lodges through time immemorial. Let’s take, for example, a gala night organised by a Lodge in California in 1933.

This wasn’t a great time for Masonry. Lodges were regretfully suspending members who wanted to pay dues, but had little income for luxuries like a fraternity. But it was a great time for a new industry—radio. It started with amateurish, unpaid local talent in the 1920s, but sponsorship soon allowed stations to pay bigger names to come on the airwaves. Stations joined together to form networks and the pooled resources started attracting the top names of dying vaudeville.

And so it was someone got the idea of combining Masonry and radio in a big extravaganza to help those who were trying to live day-to-day in a Depression. A committee was formed in Eagle Rock Lodge in Los Angeles to organise a Radio Artists Revue, featuring the top talent in local radio, with money going to Masonic charities.

A little more involved than endless discussions about what kind of food to have at meetings, isn’t it?

A squib appeared in the Los Angeles Times of October 26, 1933, announcing the Revue would be held at the Shrine Auditorium on Saturday, November 4. On the 29th, the paper revealed stars from almost every station had agreed to take part. On the 1st, the Times announced Masonic orders from cities of Southern California would be sending delegates. The following day, the paper mentioned obsolete radio sets were being exchanged for tickets.

Here’s what the paper wrote on the day of the event:

MASONS OFFER REVUE IN SHRINE
Eagle Rock Lodge's Program Will Not Be Broadcast
Headliners of Ether Waves to Appear "in Person"
BY CARROLL NYE
An imposing array of radio stars will congregate at Shrine Auditorium this evening to present the Radio Artists Revue of 1933 under the auspices of the Eagle Rock Masonic Lodge. Naylor Rogers is, chairman of the affair, Tom Brenneman [sic], vice-chairman, and J. Howard Johnson, production manager. Among the on the bill are Raymond Paige, Charlie Hamp, Calmon Luboviski, Claire Mellonino, Elvia Allman, Helen Guest, Jose Arias, Lawrence King, Joseph Diskay, members of the Happy Go Lucky Gang, stars of the Gilmore Circus, and many others.
CHARITIES AIDED
Proceeds will be used for Masonic charities. The event will not be broadcast. Raymond Paige is the headliner of the current N.R.A. Radio Show which originates at KHJ and is broadcast by all stations at 9 p.m.

You may be wondering where all the “stars” are. When you think of the Golden Days of Radio, you think of Jack Benny, Burns and Allen, Fibber McGee and Molly, Amos and Andy and so on. Remember this was 1933 and the big stars were still in New York and Chicago; the cost of broadcasting from California in those phone-circuit days was prohibitive. But the names you see were among the cream of L.A. radio. To fill you in about some of them:
• Naylor Rogers was the vice-president and General Manager of KNX.
• Charlie Hamp and his ‘One Man Show’ appeared on KNX.
• Calmon Luboviski (violinist) and Claire Mellonino (pianist) had a concert music show on KNX.
• Helen Guest was a pianist on KFI.
• José Arias led a Mexican orchestra known as “The Spanish Serenaders.”
• Lawrence King, tenor, was nicknamed “The Romeo of Song” on KNX.
• Joseph Diskay was billed as a Hungarian tenor on KNX.
• The Happy Go Lucky Gang appeared on KHJ.

Three names on the list I recognise, and one of them should be familiar even if you don’t know the name.

Raymond Paige was one of a number of orchestra leaders in the 1930s who had a late-night network music show. He began his career as an usher at the Los Angeles Philharmonic and later became its conductor. He led the Pittsburgh Symphony and was musical director at Radio City Music Hall in New York when he died in 1965. I haven’t found out if he was a Freemason.

At one time, there was a quintessential morning show called Don McNeill’s Breakfast Club. But before Don McNeill, there was Tom Breneman, who had a morning programme on the fledgling ABC network. He started in Los Angeles radio in 1927 and at the time of the benefit, he had just moved over to KFWB. Breneman’s Breakfast at Sardi’s began in 1941; he opened his own restaurant across from the ABC studios four years later and moved his show there. He was a favourite of housewives and joked about their hats on the air as he put on a goofy one for his audience (yeah, I know, who’d see it on radio?). Breneman was a Mason; newspaper stories mention he received a Masonic funeral when he died of a heart attack in 1948, only age 46. Breneman may not be famous today, but he certainly was at the time of death. Among his honorary pallbearers were some of the top names in radio, including Jack Benny, Bob Hope and Jimmy Durante.

But my favourite name on the list is that of Elvia Allman. She had begun her radio career in 1926 and her ability at dialects quickly led her to bigger and bigger things. She was one of a handful of character actresses who made their way around all the comedy shows, playing regular characters on some of them. Allman’s distinctive voice could be heard as man-hungry Cobina on The Bob Hope Show and she appeared with, well, with seemingly all the top comedians. She went into television and was in one of the most famous comedy scenes in the Golden Age of Television as the foreman of a candy making assembly line shouting at Lucy and Ethel as they made chocolates. I first saw her as Elverna Bradshaw on The Beverly Hillbillies and could recognise her voice when I was a kid. I was easily able to hear her in cartoons like ‘I Wanna Be a Sailor’ as the mother parrot and, as it turns out, she lent her voice to a number of Warner Bros. cartoons in the mid 1930s and later at Disney.

Her involvement in this radio revue made me wonder if she was possibly a member of the Eastern Star. Lo and behold, her marker at the crematorium where her remains were placed looks like this (courtesy of findagrave.com):









So there’s some kind of Masonic connection in her family. Which is cool, because I still laugh at her work. And it’s neat when other interests (cartoons and old radio shows) intersect with Freemasonry. Incidentally, she wasn’t married to Baylor when she appeared in the Revue; he was her third husband.

There’s no follow-up story in the Times to say if the event was a success and how much it raised; perhaps that can be found in the Grand Lodge of California proceedings of the day.

One wonders whether Lodge members could, or would, organise such an event today. After all, so much time is spent in Lodge these days discussing more important things than charity. Right?