IN LOS FELIZ, across from a 7-Eleven on North Vermont Avenue, a few dozen men in their early 20s to late 80s share a dinner behind closed doors. Some wear full tuxedos with bow ties and jeweled cuff links, some have shoulder-length hair, and others wear open-collared shirts that reveal the slightest filigree of tattoo arching across their chests.
Over Italian food, retired lawyers and judges sit elbow-to-elbow with owners of scrap metal yards and vintage clothing boutiques. They hold forth on philosophy, the weather; they rib each other and joke about saving room for cannoli. As they reach for seconds, they reveal skull-cracking rings emblazoned with a compass and a square.
For The Record
Los Angeles Times Tuesday, May 20, 2008 Home Edition Main News Part A Page 2 National Desk 1 inches; 60 words Type of Material: Correction
Photo credits: In Sunday's Image section, an article about Freemasons was accompanied by a photograph of President Ford that was credited to the Los Angeles Times; Eric Draper of the Associated Press was the photographer. The uncredited photo of Clark Gable that also ran with the story should have been credited to the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.
For The Record
Los Angeles Times Sunday, May 25, 2008 Home Edition Image Part P Page 2 Features Desk 1 inches; 54 words Type of Material: Correction
Photo credits: A May 18 article about Freemasons was accompanied by several photographs with incorrect credits. The photograph of President Ford, credited to the Los Angeles Times, was taken by Eric Draper of the Associated Press. The photo of Clark Gable should have been credited to the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.
Meet the millennial Masons. As secret societies go, it is one of the oldest and most famous. Its enrollment roster includes Louis Armstrong and Gerald Ford, and it has been depicted in movies such as "The Da Vinci Code" and "National Treasure." Once more than 4 million strong (back in the 1950s), it has been in something of a popularity free-fall ever since. Viewed with suspicion as a bastion of antiquated values and forced camaraderie, the Masons have seen membership rolls plummet more than 60% to just 1.5 million in 2006.
Only now the trend seems to be reversing itself, and nowhere more noticeably than in Southern California. The reasons seem clear. In another Masonic Hall, this one on La Cienega, a Sri Lankan-born banker, a sunglasses-wearing Russian immigrant and a continent-hopping Frenchman break bread, poke at their salads and chat about their health.
"For a time it looked as if Masonry was going into a sharp decline, if not the death throes," said UCLA history professor Margaret C. Jacob, who has written extensively about the fraternal order. "But it looks like it may be making a comeback."
That's because the Freemasons, whose tenets forbid soliciting or recruiting members, have enthusiastically embraced the Internet as a way to leverage curiosity about an organization with its roots in Europe's medieval stonemasons guilds. Freemasonry today sees itself as a thinking man's salon, a learned society with a philanthropic bent.
"We had a record number of new members last year," said Allan Casalou, grand secretary of the Grand Lodge of California. "We added 2,000 men, which is the most since 1998 and our seventh straight year of membership increases."
