Providing aid to those in need is a core tenet of Masonry—and one that California Masons have, historically, been all too familiar with. And it isn’t only wildfire. In the state’s early days, building fires were practically ubiquitous. In the most famous example of Masonic fire relief, Masons in 1871 banded together after the Great Chicago Fire to donate more than $100,000 to the city—so much that the Grand Lodge of Illinois sent refunds to many states, including $1,874 to California. Thirty-five years later, that favor was repaid after the 1906 earthquake and fire leveled San Francisco and destroyed its Masonic Temple. Almost overnight, more than $315,000—upwards of $9 million in today’s dollars—was raised by Masonic jurisdictions across the country for San Francisco, and hundreds of Masons spent weeks providing direct relief in the broken city.

As the Camp Fire raged and members feared for the fate of their homes, Table Mountain Lodge also hung in the balance. About a week into the fire, word broke that the lodge had been saved by an unknown Good Samaritan. As Spencer heard it, “Somebody hollered at the strike team during the fire, ‘Whatever you do, save the lodge.’” One group of firefighters stayed behind and made sure the lodge survived. “They were the ones that gave us the framework to recover,” Spencer says. “And for that I’m very grateful.”

For Richards, the lodge’s survival was a beacon in an otherwise dark time. Not only did he lose his house—it’d been recently remodeled but not reinsured to its new value—he also lost the tools for his woodworking business, including some he’d inherited from his grandfather.

Although the lodge hall survived, it would be a long time before it was usable again. In December 2018, members gathered at Chico-Leland Stanford No. 111 for their first meeting back. It was emotional. “The damage from the fire goes well beyond having all your stuff burned,” Richards says. “The loss of community is the thing most people are feeling.”

The challenges to the lodge were immediately clear: Members had scattered to the wind, some temporarily, others permanently. “When 50 percent of your membership goes away overnight, how do you keep going?” Grandfield asks. Members determined that, no matter what, they wouldn’t consolidate. “Table Mountain Lodge is not going to fold because of a fire,” Grandfield says. “We’re going to keep it going, stay strong together.”

Carrying on came with changes. For the next year, the lodge met in Chico, which itself had only narrowly escaped disaster. They moved meetings from Monday night to Saturday afternoons so more members could participate. Some who hadn’t been active for years stepped into leadership roles. Others forced to move away continued paying dues, recognizing how important the connections formed in lodge remained. That display of brotherhood had an effect on those who witnessed it. “It’s just now sinking in,” says Brad Marr, lodge master of Chico-Leland Stanford No. 111. “At the time, it was just chaos. There wasn’t even a thought about helping—it’s just what you do. But now, as we go to other lodges for degrees, we run into people from Paradise, and they tell us how much it meant to them to be able to keep on meeting.”

Marr is still moved by the generosity he saw in the wake of the fire. At one point, the offers of assistance were so overwhelming that he instructed lodge secretary Sidney Crane to make a spreadsheet so members could connect with would-be donors. One Mason offered to fly a National Guard helicopter full of supplies to them. All around him, Marr says, he felt the Masonic spirit of relief permeating the community. “The whole town, everyone was giving. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like everyone was a Mason.”