The North Carolina Mason

F reemasonry shines in diffi- cult times. In the midst of a pandemic, civil unrest, and economic crisis, our state's two Grand Masters—D.T. ompson and Shaun Bradshaw—led our two Grand Lodges in a beautiful show of unity. June 13, 2020, will forever remind me of how far our fraternity has come to fight ignorance and hate to enlighten the world of true brotherhood. It reminded me that the proudest moment of my career was being part of our recognition of Prince Hall in 2008. Much has happened since that struggle began when our members looked past another man's color to see a Mason. So much of that struggle returned to my memory after George Floyd was murdered and the Black Lives Matter movement gained momentum. And, I have had to re-evaluate my understanding of who I am and who we are as an institution. I have struggled with the institutional and even blatant racism I've seen bubble up again from within our fraternity, especially on social media. I needed someone to turn to; someone I could talk with about all this and what it means for our future. So, I called my friend Marvin Chambers, Past Grand Master of the Prince Hall Grand Lodge of North Carolina and current Grand Secretary General of the Southern Jurisdiction of the Scottish Rite of Prince Hall Affiliates. Marvin and I have spent many days and nights talking about Freemasonry, race and recognition between our Grand Lodges. We agreed that in difficult times, Freemasonry realizes its purpose. In difficult times, we sharpen our gaze on the tenets that define us. But just because we've made progress does not mean we should stop, and now is the time to move forward together and take no steps back. Grand Master Chambers is a retired mechanical engineer and lives in Asheville. He's as calm and thoughtful a soul as you'll find, and a dear friend and brother. I asked Marvin what he thought about the social unrest we're expe- riencing. I asked about the Black Lives Matter movement and about the racism our nation is facing. I told him I was so sad and angry that some of our members have chosen to post racist comments and memes on social media and seemed to igno- rantly embrace institu- tional racism. Marvin chuckled and told me, "Just be cool, Clapp. You're not going to change everyone. It takes time. You've got to live it to understand it, and most people don't understand it. I just want people to listen." "Listen to what?" I asked. Marvin's voice grew a little deeper. "Well, let me tell you one of my stories." is is his story: When I was Grand Master, prob- ably about 2001 or 2002, I drove over to Canton to visit Gibsontown to see a friend and brother. Wells Funeral Home was the landmark I used to find my way. And, by the time I got near the funeral home it was getting dark. I don't know when, but at some intersection I turned right when I should have turned left. I didn't know where I was, but I was in a neighbor- hood where the streets seemed to wind around to the same starting place. I was lost. And, I eventually just turned around and headed back toward the intersection I had come from. You know, we all wind up in the wrong section of town sometimes. As I got near the intersection three police cars turned their lights on and pulled up behind me and beside me. e officers swarmed my car. One in at my window, one in front of me, and one on my passenger side, all shining their lights in my car. I thought to myself, "Oh, Lord, what have I done?" I took a deep breath, turned the overhead light on, rolled my window down, and put my hands on the steering wheel so the officer could see them—all things my Dad taught me to do when I encoun- tered the police. e officer pointed the light in my face and asked, "Where are you going?" I was nervous and said, "Well, I'm lost." e officer snickered and said, "I know you're lost. You're on the wrong side of town. Let me see your driver's license and registration." " Yes, sir." I replied. I could tell he was irritated, so I nodded over to the glove compartment and said, "ey're in my glove compartment and I'm going to reach over for them, would you please tell the other officer what I'm doing?" He looked over the top of the car and said, "He's going to reach in the glove box for his stuff." When I saw the other officer nod, I reached over slowly and pulled my registra- tion out. As he read them over, he shined the light in my face and asked what my business was and where I was going. My Dad told me never to be smart with a policeman, but it really was not his business. So, I told him, "at's really not any of your business. I just got lost." e officer's tone changed again and he said, " You're a smart n****r, ain't you?" I did not reply back this time. And, for the next 15 or 20 minutes he insulted me, and Black people. He told me the NAACP was evil. He told me we were worthless and a waste of time. He told me I was frightening the white people in the neighborhood and trying to cause problems. He was trying to provoke me, but I just kept cool. I couldn't allow myself to react because I knew I'd never get home. It was all a play my Dad had warned me about so many times, and one I've talked to my children about. You have to be prepared for this day, or these days. e officer asked me a laundry list of questions, none of which concerned driving. After an hour, he finally told me he could arrest me and lock me up for at least a night. I replied I hoped that wouldn't be necessary. He cursed me and told me not to come around here again and handed my license back to me. I went on my way. All I did was take a wrong turn. See, I think when most people are pulled over, they think it's incon- venient, and you assume it's going to be A-OK. But if you're Black, it's not. And, it's not the first time it's happened to me. When I was younger, I was riding with my father in a brand new Pontiac back toward Asheville on a little two-lane road. Dad always told me to obey every traffic rule. And to never get too close to the yellow line, especially double yellow lines. Not just, "don't cross it. Don't get too close." Well, he did get too close, I guess, and a sheriff 's deputy pulled us over. Dad talked to the officer and the officer told him, " You got too close to the line. You're gonna have to pay a fine. Follow me down this way." We were terrified. We followed the deputy out into the woods, down a curvy road, then down a dirt road to a "justice of the peace's" house. We had no idea where we were. It was late, and the deputy led us up to the door and explained the situation. e JP just looked at us and said, 'at'll be X amount of dollars.' I don't remember the amount. But Dad just pulled it from his wallet and paid the man. Or, rather, the man extorted it from Dad. e JP and the deputy admonished us to obey the law and go home, and we left. Times are strange, but not that strange to some of us. ere's a lot of bad people in the world—a lot of igno- rant people. And, things don't change overnight. But it is time for change, and there are a lot of good people who want to help. e only real way for that to happen is for us to work together to make change. When I was in my teens, I went to work for a Mr. McChesney. He was white. I used to mow his grass and clean up his yard. Mrs. McChesney would make me lunch, and when I would come in they would sit at their table, and I would sit at a little table set up on the side of the room, or in the next room. We ate apart. We were separate. It was how things were. July/August 2020 The North Carolina Mason Page 9 By Walt Clapp Grand Secretary ■ see CLAPP page 10 No steps back; we move forward together

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