The Star Spangled Banner

Submitted By Brother Jim Haney

On September 3, 1814, Francis Scott Key and John Stuart Skinner set sail from Baltimore aboard the ship HMS Minden, flying a flag of truce on a mission approved by President James Madison. Their objective was to secure the exchange of prisoners, one of whom was Dr. William Beanes, the elderly and popular town physician of Upper Marlboro and a friend of Key’s who had been captured in his home. Beanes was accused of aiding the arrest of British soldiers. Key and Skinner boarded the British flagship HMS Tonnant on September 7 and spoke with Major General Robert Ross and then-Vice Admiral Alexander Cochrane over dinner while the two officers discussed war plans. At first, Ross and Cochrane refused to release Beanes, but relented after Key and Skinner showed them letters written by wounded British prisoners praising Beanes and other Americans for their kind treatment.

Because Key and Skinner had heard details of the plans for the attack on Baltimore, they were held captive until after the battle, first aboard HMS Surprise and later back on HMS Minden. After the bombardment, certain British gunboats attempted to slip past the fort and effect a landing in a cove to the west of it, but they were turned away by fire from nearby Fort Covington, the city's last line of defense.

During the rainy night, Key had witnessed the bombardment and observed that the fort’s smaller "storm flag" continued to fly, but once the shell and Congreve rocket[5] barrage had stopped, he would not know how the battle had turned out until dawn. By then, the storm flag had been lowered and the larger flag had been raised.

Key was inspired by the American victory and the sight of the large American flag flying triumphantly above the fort. This flag, with fifteen stars and fifteen stripes, came to be known as the Star Spangled Banner Flag and is today on display in the National Museum of American History, a treasure of the Smithsonian Institution. It was restored in 1914 by Amelia Fowler, and again in 1998 as part of an ongoing conservation program.

Aboard the ship the next day, Key wrote a poem on the back of a letter he had kept in his pocket. At twilight on 16 September, he and Skinner were released in Baltimore. He completed the poem at the Indian Queen Hotel, where he was staying, and entitled it "Defence of Fort McHenry."

Interestingly, much of the idea of the poem and even some of the wording is arguably derived from an earlier song by Key, also set to the tune of The Anacreontic Song.

The song, known as "When the Warrior Returns,"[6] is said to have been written in honor of Stephen Decatur and Charles Stewart on their return from the First Barbary War.

According to the historian Robin Blackburn, the words "the hireling and slave" allude to the fact that the British attackers had many ex-slaves in their ranks, who had been promised liberty and demanded to be placed in the battle line "where they might expect to meet their former masters."[7]

Key gave the poem to his brother-in-law, Judge Joseph H. Nicholson. Nicholson saw that the words fit the popular melody "The Anacreontic Song", of English composer John Stafford Smith, which was the official song of the Anacreontic Society, an 18th-century gentlemen's club of amateur musicians in London.

Nicholson took the poem to a printer in Baltimore, who anonymously printed broadside copies of it—the song’s first known printing—on September 17; of these, two known copies survive.

Francis Scott Key's original manuscript copy of his "Star-Spangled Banner" poem. It is now on display at the Maryland Historical Society.

On September 20, both the Baltimore Patriot and The American printed the song, with the note "Tune: Anacreon in Heaven." The song quickly became popular, with seventeen newspapers from Georgia to New Hampshire printing it.

Soon after, Thomas Carr of the Carr Music Store in Baltimore published the words and music together under the title "The Star-Spangled Banner," although it was originally called "Defence of Fort McHenry." The song’s popularity increased, and its first public performance took place in October, when Baltimore actor Ferdinand Durang sang it at Captain McCauley’s tavern.

Commemorative plaque in Washington, D.C. marking the site at 601 Pennsylvania Avenue where "The Star-Spangled Banner" was first publicly sung.

The song gained popularity throughout the nineteenth century and bands played it during public events, such as July 4 celebrations. On July 27, 1889, Secretary of the Navy Benjamin F. Tracy signed General Order #374, making "The Star-Spangled Banner" the official tune to be played at the raising of the flag.

In 1916, President Woodrow Wilson ordered that "The Star-Spangled Banner" be played at military and other appropriate occasions. Although the playing of the song two years later during the seventh-inning stretch of the 1918 World Series is often noted as the first instance that the anthem was played at a baseball game, evidence shows that the "Star-Spangled Banner" was performed as early as 1897 at opening day ceremonies in Philadelphia and then more regularly at the Polo Grounds in New York City beginning in 1898. However, the tradition of performing the national anthem before every baseball game began in World War II.

Today, the anthem is performed before the beginning of all MLS, NBA, NFL, MLB and NHL games (with at least one American team playing), as well as in a pre-race ceremony portion of every NASCAR race.

On November 3, 1929, Robert Ripley drew a panel in his syndicated cartoon, Ripley's Believe it or Not!, saying "Believe It or Not, America has no national anthem".[9] In 1931, John Philip Sousa published his opinion in favor, stating that "it is the spirit of the music that inspires" as much as it is Key’s "soul-stirring" words. By a law signed on March 3, 1931 by President Herbert Hoover, "The Star-Spangled Banner" was adopted as the official national anthem of the United States

Surviving The Big Ones

By John "Corky" Daut

The big ones for me were that 16 year period between the Great Depression and World War II. Being born in 1928, I grew up during the hard times between the stock market crash of 1929 and the end of World War II in 1945.

For a young boy growing up in Houston's old east end, the nineteen thirties, were as Charles Dickens wrote, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”

When we see programs on the television now about the depression, they are somewhat sanitized. There was a lot of misery we don't see. I can still see in my mind's eye, our neighbors that lived in the house behind ours on that sad day when they moved away. They stood at the curb line with tears of anger and bewilderment staining their faces. They were standing next to a couple of piles, containing their meager belongings and furniture. Deputy sheriffs had just carried all of their possessions out and dumped them at the edge of the street because the father couldn't find a job and they couldn't pay the rent.

In many ways the "Great Depression" tended to equalize the people in a given neighborhood. Almost everyone living within that area was in the same condition.

Many of the people in our little neighborhood rented the house they lived in. Many of the lucky ones who owned their own homes rented a room or two in their house as a small apartment or took in a boarder or two. Keeping up with the neighbors meant being able to pay the rent every month and still have food on the table.

A lot of us put pieces cardboard inside our shoes every morning to cover the hole through the soles, but the tops were polished. Clothes were often patched, but they were clean and ironed. Food was simple but good. Families bought a pint of ice cream to celebrate like we buy half gallons now. Eight to ten cents would buy a large loaf of bread or a quart of milk or even a pound of hamburger meat.

Hamburgers cost fifteen cents or 2 for 25 cents at Wimpy's hamburger stand in downtown Houston. It was across the street from the old Sam Houston High School on Capitol Avenue. Even better, you could buy a hamburger for a nickel at the little walkup stand beside the Ritz theater on Preston Avenue.

At the same time however, it was also the best of times. We could go to bed at night with the doors and windows wide open for fresh air. Well, to tell the truth my mother was a kind of uneasy type person, so after dark so we did fasten the hook and eye latch on the screen door. I don't remember anyone's house ever being burglarized. The only policeman that I remember ever seeing in our neighborhood was my own father.

Regarding crime in the neighborhood, there was what I have referred to as “Temporary Stealing” The City of Houston displayed unusual foresight back then and built neighborhood parks for city kids to play in. The city furnished all types of sports equipment and games and even hired an attendant to check out equipment and organize games.

The “Temporary Stealing” can be directly attributed to World War II. The wartime manpower shortage eventually filtered down to our little park and we were reduced to having an attendant one or two days a week and some weeks, none at all.

This meant that fifteen or twenty sports loving boys gathered in the park every day with places to play football, softball, basketball, volleyball, tetherball and shuffle board. It also meant that all of the equipment needed to play any of these games was hopelessly beyond our reach on the other side of a locked door. On day when Billy, Buck, Pete, David and his brother Al, Charlie and his little brother Josie were sitting around the softball backstop talking. Nobody had a ball so we moved up in the shade beside the building. The rest rooms were always open, but the rest of the building was locked unless an attendant was on duty.

Before long one of the guys said he had to use the restroom and boys being boys, we all ended up in the rest room. Some to use the facilities and some just to keep up with the conversation. I don't remember which one of us noticed the covered access hole just over the toilets in the men's rest room, but we quickly discovered that if we helped one boy climb up and stand on one of the partitions between the toilets he could open the trap door and gain access to the attic.

No boy could resist exploring in the unknown and it only took a little while in the attic to discover that there was another access door to the attic in the ceiling of the equipment room at the other end of the building. Luck was with us and the trap door was located directly over the equipment storage shelves. The shelves acted as a kind of built in ladder to climb down to the floor. Although the door had a chain and padlock it could be pulled in enough to slip a ball and bat through the crack.

In hindsight, I'm sure if we had been caught checking the equipment out on our own, via the rest room door, we would have been accused of theft. And, in the strict legal sense I suppose the equipment was stolen property as long as we were using it, even though it was only temporary. We, of course, had a completely different viewpoint. The sports equipment never left city park property and it was purchased with our parents tax money, to be used by the young people of our neighborhood. Therefore we were only doing with it, what it was intended for, using it. There was a big difference, that made it "temporarily stealing" back in the nineteen forties. Every day when we were through using the equipment, we pushed the equipment room door in as far as the chain allowed and slipped every single item through the crack and shut the door. It was as safe as if coach had been there everyday to check it in and out.

Masonic Lodge—America’s Smallest Naval Base?

By John Morris
From W. Bro. Dwight D. Seals
A Masonic Did You Know

I recently stumbled upon an interesting bit of trivia in an old Wake County Schools publication. It was noted that Raleigh is home to the world's smallest naval base, located on the grounds of the Josephus Daniels House. Daniels is one of Raleigh's most notable historical figures: Secretary of the Navy, An ambassador to Mexico, and Editor of the News & Observer (among other rural newspapers).

When Daniels moved in to his Hayes-Barton home at the end of his appointment as Secretary of the Navy, he wished to have a naval gun mounted on the front lawn. The article stated that the only way this could happen was for the small patch of earth around the gun to be declared an official Navy base.

But before we explore this claim, let's take a look at the man for whom the house is named for.

Humble Roots

The son of a shipbuilder of the Confederate Army who was killed in a Union ambush during the Civil War, Josephus Daniels grew up to a single mother in rural North Carolina. Having an interest in journalism from a young age, by age 18 Daniels was a local news editor for a rural weekly, the Wilson Advocate. In 1894 at the age of 32, he had purchased the News & Observer and turned it in to a powerful voice of the Democratic Party. Despite championing progressive issues such as women's suffrage, strong antitrust laws and more government oversight, he was a part of the white supremacy movement and supported Jim Crow laws which enforced racial segregation.

He was a very divisive figure. By one account, he was the most controversial figure in President Wilson's cabinet. A teetotaller, as Navy Secretary he instituted measures which forbid alcohol on naval vessels. The term 'cup of joe' was used by seaman to describe the strongest drink available on ships coffee. Although folk lore sometimes indicates he was the source of this common term, the phrase predates that decree.

Franklin Roosevelt and Josephus Daniels in 1940. Image courtesy Franklin D Roosevelt Presidential Library. Woodrow Wilson named him to secretary of the Navy in 1913, a post in which he held for 8 years. Despite his polarizing reputation, he was widely regarded as an effective cabinet official. The US Navy was in good standing during its entry to World War I, due in no small part to his oversight.

In 1933, President Roosevelt appointed him to be ambassador to Mexico. He further developed relations with our neighbor to the south, which eventually secured loyalty during America's entry in to World War II.He returned to Raleigh and his post at the News & Observer in 1941 due to his wife's failing health. He died of pneumonia a few years later.

The House

According to City of Raleigh zoning minutes, “It is one of only three sites in the City of Raleigh to hold all three possible historic preservation designations – Local Historic Landmark, Individually Listed National Register Member, and National Historic Landmark”.

Located in the Hayes-Barton neighborhood just outside of downtown, construction began in 1920 when Daniels was still Secretary of the Navy. His wife named it Wakestone, likely due to the Wake County quarried stone used. Built in the Georgian Revival style, it features a prominent two story columned portico.

Transition to Masonic Temple

In 1950, his estate was sold to the Raleigh Freemasons who were expanding and outgrowing their location on Fayetteville Street. The Freemasons in North Carolina date to the late 1700s, when the Grand Lodge of North Carolina was one of the first of the new world to be chartered by England. The Daniels House is home to four area lodges.

The interior of the lodge has 3 paintings of one of the most prominent Freemasons, George Washington.

There are two phrases which every member sees upon entry and exit. The first is “What man is a man who does not try to make the world a better place”.

The other reads “Men's hearts ought not to be set against one another, but set with one another, and all against evil only”.

Although the Daniels house has been modified under ownership of the Freemasons, much of the modifications were done with respect to the original style and building materials.

Now, 60 years after relocating from Downtown Raleigh to the Five Points area, another move is in the long term plans. The historical property is currently for sale. The space is too large for the needs of the lodges that meet there.

The Gun Pointed at the Helms Residence

One of Raleigh Lodge #500's most prominent members was the late Jesse Helms. Not only was he a Freemason, but his house was across the street from the lodge–in the direct line of sight of this decommissioned WWI battleship deck gun captured from a German ship.

According to legend, he was very unhappy with the gun. He wasn't alone, though. As a rule, Freemasons believe in peace and brotherhood and not violence. Having a gun from a battle ship on the grounds was somewhat antithetical to what they represent. One member likened it to “that crazy uncle in the attic”. Always there, but hoping that people don't really notice.

Raleigh: Home of the World's Smallest Naval Base?

Attempts to find a second published and referenced source for Raleigh's claim of “World's Smallest Naval Base” have not been fruitful thus far. However, I was fortunate enough to not only get a tour of the lodge by the kind fellows of Lodge #500, but spoke with a few members who verified the claims. One such member married in to the Daniels family, and stated unequivocally that it was indeed still US Government property, and they didn't have the authority to remove it.

Another member noted that they have attempted to contact the Department of the Navy to gain permission to remove it. The response was that they were inclined to respect the original wishes of the Daniels family and have the gun intact on the property. According to the original source, the designation of naval base extends only to the block base of the gun. As such, it represents a microscopic patch of land to have an official Federal status. The historical marker notes only the house, not the gun. It appears that the gun is still property of the US Government, but it's less likely that it is currently designated as US Naval Base.

According to the Raleigh City Museum, it is one of three naval guns in the city

A Little Military Humor

The Cokes Must Go Through In Peace Or war.

Inside the Inner Sanctum ...

By Venessa Lee

From pentagrams to secret handshakes and a gory oath, what's real and what's not about the Freemasons?

Weekend Today at http://www.todayonline.com/World/EDC100619-0000046/Inside-the-Inner-Sanctum-,,,

THERE were three wooden chairs, shaped like thrones, at the end of the room that serves as the Temple. Were a lodge meeting in progress, the head of the Masonic lodge, the Worshipful Master, would be seated on the highest of these.

But as the room was empty of people in the 45 minutes I was granted an exceedingly rare peek into this space sacred to Singapore's Masons, much was left to the observer's fancy. The popular imagination on Freemasonry, certainly, has been luridly fuelled by author Dan Brown's latest book The Lost Symbol, which opens with a skull filled with wine.

Sometimes described as the world's oldest fraternity, Freemasonry counts presidents, kings and geniuses in its ranks. It traditionally uses arcane symbols and rituals, a proclivity that has led to wildly exciting theories about world domination and supping with the devil.

My first impressions of the Temple at Freemasons' Hall in Coleman Street were rather more modest. Some of the items therein, one might find in a church: A Bible, a pipe organ and a domed ceiling with a sky mural, traditionally an allusion to the heavens.

The regal-cum-religious overtones were, to me, a little Narnian - almost right out of CS Lewis' Christianity-inspired fantasy world whose heroes are English-waifs-turned-royals.

Heightening the effect were Masonic regalia, displayed in glass cases outside the Temple. According to Mr Michael Seet, the current Worshipful Master of Sir Stamford Raffles Lodge No 7444 EC, during meetings members wear "tuxedos, aprons, white gloves, collars and insignia" denoting their Masonic office. The members of 33 lodges, chapters and other Masonic groups in Singapore also meet at the Temple regularly.

Apart from the restaurant on the ground floor, the building is not open to the public. And, yes, it remains a fraternity - while women these days can use the bar, they cannot join Freemasonry (which consists of Lodges, Chapters and Side Degrees).

'G' STANDS FOR ...

So, as they were now granting Temple access to me, a female outsider - Masons' wives are sometimes invited into the inner sanctum for a peek - could it be the Freemasons, popularly viewed as keepers of secrets and mysteries, were opening up?

Inside, symbol seems to pile upon symbol. A classic Masonic black-and-white chequerboard is at the centre of the Temple floor. In a second meeting room, also adorned with a chequerboard floor, a gavel is prominently displayed.

The movement came to Singapore in 1845. Today, there are about 750 Masons here, all male and mostly professionals.

A silver letter "G" hangs from the ceiling in both rooms. The "G", said Mr Brian Henry, 78, a Mason for 35 years, has "never been defined; it's whatever you deem it to be. It could be God, it could be Geometry. It's a reference to the Supreme Being".

Freemasons have to believe in a god - any god. To an outsider, it may seem paradoxical that discussion of religion and politics is forbidden in the Lodge but religious holy books can be used in ceremonies that include performances and lectures with a moral message.

As for Geometry, it has been described by Masons as the "noblest of sciences"; the square and the compass are Freemasonry's most identifiable emblems, said to represent judgement and discernment. Such symbolism goes back to the Order's origins in the guilds of stonemasons who built Europe's mediaeval cathedrals and churches.

In the modern incarnation, the fraternity is about 300 years old and some five-million strong worldwide. Its three central tenets are brotherly love, or fraternity; relief, or charity; and truth.

'IT'S NO SECRET SOCIETY'

Singapore's founder Stamford Raffles and George Washington are among the many eminent figures who were Masons - though Mr Henry, a past Master at Sir Stamford Raffles Lodge, declined to say which famous Singaporeans are Masons, as it could be "sensitive" information.

In charitable Masonic spirit, the Sir Stamford Raffles Lodge raised $70,000 this year for the benefit of organisations like the Dover Park Hospice. Worldwide, however, Masons have had to grapple with bad press - such as accusations of corruption and conspiracy - sparked by its secrecy-shrouded rituals.

Clearing the air, Mr John Wilson explained: "It's not a religion, it's not a substitute for religion and it's not a secret society." A past Master and a Mason since 1961, he has held many Masonic titles including a current one that, at first, set off Dan Brown-type alarm bells in my head: The Provincial Prior of the Masonic order, the Knights Templar, in South-east Asia.

Mr Wilson, 72, declared there were effectively no secrets in Freemasonry. "If you went to Coke international in the US and said, 'I would like your recipe for what you put into Coke', would they give it to you? It's a secret, right? There are commercial and literal secrets. "But in Freemasonry, there are no secrets because you can find out everything you want about it on the Internet, (though) there's always people who make things up."

FACT OR FICTION?

I asked Mr Henry if the initiation rite into Freemasonry included such details - reported elsewhere - as the candidate unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his left breast, rolling up his left trouser leg, being blindfolded, with a noose around his neck, and asked to repeat an oath with the point of a dagger placed on his breast.

"I'm not saying true or not, but it's traditional," he replied, cryptically.

I also asked if the oath reportedly undertaken by would-be initiates did indeed contain fearsome penalties like having "my throat cut across, my tongue torn out by the roots, and my body buried in the rough sands of the sea at low watermark".

The short answer: No, they don't use the old oath anymore.

No secrets revealed, so far. Another Mason, Mr Banerjee Shiva Prasad, described it this way: "We have some things that are private, like families have things that are private."

For instance, there are ways of identifying fellow Masons, whom it would be their duty to help - such as if one fell on hard times - said Mr Wilson, adding the caveat that the support would not be at the expense of the civil or moral law.

Those interested in joining the exclusive group have to approach members and undergo a months-long screening process. For those with obviously self-serving interests, the answer is no. Said Mr Henry: "We ask every (would-be) member, what do you expect to gain? If he says 'networking', he's out."

What does a modern-day Singaporean get out of being a Mason that he doesn't from his social club membership? Calling it "mentally stimulating", Mr Wilson said: "I'm a member of SICC, Tanglin Club, the Cricket Club, Raffles Marina ... mainly for personal enjoyment ... which is totally different from Freemasonry, which is dedicated to a way of life. It's much more of a spiritual concern."

Asked about the Masons' use of ambiguous symbols such as the pentagram and the "all-seeing eye", Mr Henry disavowed any connection with the occult: "For me, (the former) is just a five-sided figure. And all the dollar bills in the US have an all-seeing eye, so it can't be that evil, can it?"

For the record, the pentagram is an ancient symbol that took on occultic connotations only in the 19th and 20th centuries, long after Freemasonry was established.

Should Freemasonry give itself an update and get contemporary? Part of its appeal lies in its vital mystery, said Mr Henry: "If you change it, you'll change the mystery of it."

Here are some of the "funnies" our grandparents enjoyed.

The Old Tiler Talks

The Greatest Work
From the Old Tiler's Talk - by Carl H. Claudy, The Temple Publishers

Old Tiler, what is the greatest work of Masonry?" The New Brother sat by the guardian of the door and pulled out his cigar case.

"Persuading new brethren that Old Tiler’s need something to smoke!" returned the Old Tiler promptly.

The New Brother laughed as he handed over a cigar. "I hope you will smoke with me," he said, "But that wasn't just what I had in mind. Masonry has so many different jobs to do -- I was wondering which is the greatest." "Suppose you tell me what you think these jobs are," suggested the Old Tiler. "I can answer more intelligently if I know what you have in mind."

"Masonry teaches and practices charity," began the New Brother. "I suppose the brotherly love and relief she teaches are among the greatest of her works. She teaches men to agree to disagree, and to avoid dissension while meeting on a common level. She teaches brotherly love, which makes society run more smoothly and makes us all happier. One of Masonry's works is education, since she admonishes us to learn and to study. But I don't know that I could say that any one of them is the most important."

"That is rather difficult," answered the Old Tiler. "Besides, you have left out a number of things. Masonry helps us to make friends-and surely in the struggle for happiness, friends add much to the joy and take away much from the burden.

"Masonry helps men to come closer to their Maker-she does not ape the church in teaching men how to worship God, but only that God is, and that one can commune with the Great Architect without sect or creed. She teaches sympathy and understanding. She teaches toleration of the other fellow's views. Democrat and Republican, saint and sinner, meet on the level in a lodge and forget their differences in their sameness, lose sight of the quarrels in their oneness. All this Masonry does for those who accept her gentle ministrations."

"But that doesn't tell me which is the greatest thing she does," objected the New Brother as the Old Tiler paused.

"I don't think there is a greatest thing, except for the individual," answered the Old Tiler. "The greatest thing Masonry may do for me may not be your greatest thing. To one man her brotherly love may be the greatest; to another, the friends; to a third, the charity. Doesn't it depend on the man?"

"You wouldn't say, then, that you think relief is Masonry s greatest accomplishment?" asked the New Brother.

"For those it relieves, yes; and it often is for those who have contributed to it. But suppose a man is engaged all day as a charity visitor or a doctor or a Red Cross official. Relief by Masonry won't be anything new to him. He must look elsewhere for the greatest thing."

"Well, what is Masonry's greatest accomplishment for you, as an Old Tiler?"

"Opportunity for service!" answered the Old Tiler, promptly. "It gives me a chance to do things for my fellowman I wouldn't otherwise have. I am an old man. I am not very active, and I have always been poor. But in Masonry I can be active, even if not very spry. Not having much, means doesn't seem to count. Now let me ask you, what is Masonry's greatest accomplishment for you?"

The New Brother laughed. "I knew that was coming. It's sort of hazy when I try to put it into words. But it is clear in my mind. The greatest thing which I get out of Masonry, save one thing only, is my kinship with the past. My sense that I am part of a living chain which goes back into the years which are gone, for no one knows how many centuries. I do what George Washington did in a lodge. I see the same things Elias Ashmole saw. As I do, so did Bobby Burns. I am mentally akin with the Comacine builders and the Guild craftsmen of the Middle Ages."

"Back to Solomon and beyond," agreed the Old Tiler. "I understand."

"Perhaps you do, but I can't make it clear when I try to put it into words." The New Brother looked off into the distance, frowning. "I feel a mystic sense of strength and inspiration from this oneness with so many millions of brethren who have gone this way before me-it seems to me that I have an added strength for my daily life because I am a part of so great a chain.

"All who love the Craft have that feeling," smiled the Old Tiler. "But you said there was one other benefit which Masonry conferred on you, and which you thought was the greatest of all. What is that?"

The New Brother looked at the Old Tiler, without smiling. "The privilege of talking to a man as wise as you," he answered.

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