
The Rise of the Masonic Polo
An open collar with no tie at lodge would have invited side glances in years past, but today, polos prevail.
By Ian A. Stewart
Above: Double exposure detail of the mural at Nevada № 13 painted in 1996 by John Dahle, Sr. and John Dahle, Jr., both past masters of the lodge.
Daniel Rivera admits he can get a bit defensive when it comes to one of the defining features of Reseda № 666, the lodge he served as master last year. “We’re not ashamed of it,” he says. “We don’t find it to be sinister in any way.”
He’s talking, of course, about the lodge’s number—referenced in the Book of Revelation as the mark of the beast (and, more recently, in the 1976 horror film The Omen). As a result, the lodge has been known to attract the occasional crank. This fall, Rivera and Reseda № 666 posted a short video on Instagram attempting to address the memorable, if slightly unfortunate, designator.
Rivera’s isn’t the only lodge in California with a memorable— even jinxed—number. At Nevada № 13, in Nevada City, it’s both, according to past master Lee Wilbourne. “I think 13 is a fine number,” he says. “In fact, I’d say we’re exceedingly proud of it.”
Indeed, a lodge’s number can tell a lot about its history and founding. Though it was the 13th chartered lodge in California, Nevada City’s is now the eighth oldest, as several of other single-digit groups have folded up. Wilbourne points out that when the lodge was first organized, in 1851, it was slated for an even lower number. “The story, or the urban legend, is that the water was too high on the river in Marysville, so they couldn’t get the charter to San Francisco in time, and a few other lodges got in before us,” Wilbourne says. “That’s how we ended up with 13.”
Since lodges are numbered in order of their charter, it serves as a shorthand for understanding a lodge’s longevity—and therefore its history. Fittingly, lower numbers are a source of pride at places like California № 1, San Jose № 10, and even Yosemite № 99. At Western Star № 2, on the other hand, it’s the source of a century-old grudge. By all rights, that lodge—originally chartered in 1848 as Benton City № 98, under the Grand Lodge of Missouri—should have received the coveted number 1, as it held its first regular meeting two weeks earlier than California Lodge. According to Masonic historian John Whitsell, the misnumbering was simply a clerical screwup— one with fraternally significant historical repercussions.
Above: Senior Warden Joseph Holman Inside the Nevada № 13 lodge building.
Despite the uniformity of the chronological system, lodges have occasionally tried to game it to obtain—or avoid—certain numbers. For instance, Sojourner Lodge in Monrovia made a special request in 1925 so as not to be saddled with the number 606.
Today that designation would raise few eyebrows, but at the time the number was widely associated with syphilis (for the anti-biotic compound 606, used to treat the infection). Given that the lodge at that time was made up almost entirely of doctors, members reasoned that any connection to the medication was better left uninsinuated.
Elysian Park № 418 had a lucky stroke in 1910 when it received its number. Members of that lodge, which was organized by a group of 13 Masons, seem to have had a fascination with the so-called Judas number, and wanted a designator whose digits added up to 13. By a turn of fate, a paperwork delay caused its charter to be issued as 418, rather than the 417 the lodge was initially in line for. (In this regard, it followed the footsteps of Highland Park № 382, which also considered its numerals to be charmed.)
Favorable digits are no guarantee of anything, of course. Lucky lodge № 7, chartered as Davy Crockett in 1851, folded after just three years, making it California’s first to relinquish its charter. (Meanwhile, Nevada № 13 has remained active and healthy for 175 years despite—or perhaps because of—its star-crossed number.) A century after Davy Crockett’s founding, the members of Pinnacle Lodge in Soledad seemed to have hit the jackpot when it received its charter of № 777, but again, it wasn’t meant to be. In 1987, the group consolidated into Santa Lucia, in King City, as the comparatively benign № 302.
Consolidations play a large role in keeping lodge numbers alive, with groups often carrying forward the lower number in a nod to the more senior body. When Buena Park № 357 merged with La Miranda № 750 in the 1990s, the new group paid special homage to the numeral it retained, which to any Mason recalls the Fellowcraft degree’s “Staircase” lecture, with its three, five, and seven steps. Fittingly, that group is now known as Solomon’s Staircase № 357.
In other cases, a lodge number can bear the trace of its “mother,” or sponsoring, lodge. For instance, the founding master of West Gate № 335 specifically angled for that number because of its similarity to the lodge where he received the degrees, San Diego № 35. A few years later, Gardena № 372 was formed out of nearby Anchor № 273, and transposed its numerals.
Then there’s the matter of missed opportunities: Charter Rock № 410, for instance, chartered in 1910 in Berkeley, came within a digit of echoing its home city’s 510 area code; same with Frank S. Land № 819 in Los Angeles, which consolidated in the 1980s into Jewel City, in Glendale, at the very time and place that the 818 area code was being rolled out. (No matter, today that group is simply called Glendale № 368.)
Of course, there’s no correct perspective on a lodge number. For Rivera at Reseda № 666, there can even be beauty in it. “For me personally, it’s interesting that esoterically, the number is associated with beauty, harmony, and divine radiance,” he says. Indeed, despite his lodge number’s devilish reputation, “I find all of that reflected in our membership. The brothers of Reseda are some of the friendliest guys you’ll find anywhere.”
Photography by:
Chris Kaufman
Courtesy of Reseda Lodge № 666

An open collar with no tie at lodge would have invited side glances in years past, but today, polos prevail.

Meet G. Michael Arnold of the Midnight Mission on building his community daily.

Helping lodges to reconnect and welcome back brothers, so that no Mason is forgotten.