The Lodge, The Pipes and The Principles
By Megan Routledge | The Sound Cafe Journal
An introduction by Megan Routledge
Some stories reveal as much about the person telling them as they do about the places and experiences that shaped their life. In The Lodge, the Pipes and the Principles, Stevie Connor offers a personal glimpse into a part of his journey that brings together family history, Freemasonry, Scottish tradition and the enduring language of music.
Set against the backdrop of Edinburgh, this bonus exclusive chapter from The Long Road To Flin Flon traces Stevie’s involvement with Brotherly Love Lodge No. 1428, from the connections that led him there to the responsibilities he undertook as a member. Through his recollections of the Masonic working tools, his service within the Lodge and his role as Lodge Piper, he explores the principles of personal conduct, fellowship and service that stayed with him long after the formal ceremonies had ended.
What makes this account particularly engaging is its honesty. Written with the perspective that comes with the passage of time, Stevie distinguishes between the experiences he remembers clearly and the ritual details that have naturally faded. Rather than attempting to reconstruct every word, he concentrates on the meaning those experiences held for him.
There is also a quietly remarkable connection at the heart of the story. As a child, Stevie’s grandparents lived directly across the street from the very Lodge he would eventually join. It is the sort of detail that gives a memoir its depth, reminding us that the significance of a place is not always apparent when we first encounter it.
In these pages, the Lodge becomes more than a building or an institution. It becomes part of a life shaped by heritage, friendship, music and the ongoing effort to understand the principles by which we live.
This exclusive chapter offers readers another perspective on Stevie Connor’s journey: thoughtful, personal and rooted in the traditions of the Scotland that helped shape him.
Some roads begin long before we realize we are travelling them. Looking back, I sometimes wonder whether my own Masonic journey began in childhood, when my grandparents lived directly across the street from the Lodge I would eventually join. At the time, it was simply part of the familiar streetscape of home. I had no idea that, years later, the building opposite their house would become part of my own story.
Freemasonry was already woven into my family history, although not without an interesting contrast. My mother’s family were all Freemasons, while my father’s family were all Catholics.
The Catholic Church had historically opposed Freemasonry, and the two sides of my family came from different traditions. I cannot speak for the views of every relative, but that contrast formed part of the background to my own journey.
It was through my best friend at the time, who was already a member, that I became involved with Brotherly Love Lodge No. 1428 in Edinburgh. During the process leading to my admission, notices concerning my intentions were circulated to the Lodges. I was unaware that some of my uncles and cousins knew what I was planning. I discovered this later, an unexpected reminder of how closely family and Masonic connections could overlap.
I was not present at my own ballot, so I cannot describe what happened on that occasion from personal observation. I learned about the procedure later, when I took part in balloting for other candidates. As I came to understand it, members used black and white balls to register their decisions, and the Master examined the result. A black ball signified that a candidate would not be admitted. It was a formal process, and one that helped me appreciate that joining the Lodge involved more than simply expressing a wish to become a member.
In due course, I was summoned to enter the First Degree as an Entered Apprentice. Like anyone beginning an unfamiliar journey, I had much to learn. Freemasonry introduced me to a language of symbolism, ceremony and moral instruction. The meaning of it all did not necessarily become clear at once. The purpose was not simply to learn a ritual or become familiar with the customs of the Lodge, but to consider what those symbols might teach us about how we conduct ourselves in the wider world.
One of the responsibilities I later undertook was to deliver the explanations of the working tools on the floor of the Lodge. I did this for both the First and Second Degrees, speaking to candidates in the presence of the brethren and visiting members. It took considerable practice to learn the explanations and deliver them with confidence. I had to understand the lessons well enough to communicate their meaning, rather than simply repeat words I had memorized.
Many years have passed, and I would not pretend to remember the ritual wording exactly. What I retain is the substance of the First Degree’s three working tools under the Scottish Constitution: the twenty-four-inch gauge, the common gavel and the chisel. Each had a practical purpose in the work of the operative stonemason, but each also carried a moral lesson for the speculative Mason.
The twenty-four-inch gauge was used to measure and lay out the work. Its symbolic lesson concerned the proper use of the twenty-four hours of the day. We were encouraged to consider the balance between devotion to Almighty God, honest labour and refreshment, and service to a friend or Brother in need, without neglecting our own responsibilities or those of our families. It was a lesson about time and priorities. We all receive the same number of hours; how we use them is another matter.
The common gavel was used to remove rough edges and unnecessary projections from the stone, preparing it for its place in the building. Its moral meaning concerned the force of conscience and the need to subdue our passions, remove unbecoming thoughts and work on the faults in our own character. It is one thing to recognise the rough edges in someone else; it takes rather more honesty to acknowledge our own.
The chisel, the third working tool in the Scottish First Degree, was used to shape and smooth the stone further. Its lesson concerned the advantages of education, mental discipline and refinement. Just as the chisel helped prepare the stone for the skilled craftsman, learning and moral training could help shape us into more useful members of society. Education was not simply about accumulating knowledge, but about applying it with sound judgement and consideration for others.
These were the lessons I worked to convey when explaining the tools to candidates. Standing before the brethren and visiting members required preparation, concentration and a clear understanding of the material. There was something humbling about explaining these principles to another man while recognising that I, too, still had much to learn.
I also learned and delivered the explanation of the working tools for the Second Degree.
The precise wording and details have faded with the passage of time, and I would rather acknowledge that than reconstruct a ritual from memory and risk presenting it inaccurately.
I remember the preparation, the practice and the experience of delivering the explanation to a candidate. The responsibility of the task remains clearer to me than the exact words.
My involvement in the Lodge grew beyond this work. I took on a couple of offices and, in time, became a Mark Master Mason. Each step brought a greater understanding of the organisation and the commitment involved in taking part in its life. The Lodge was a community in which members had responsibilities to one another, and where much of the work was done quietly, without any expectation of recognition.
Music also found its place in my Masonic life. I became Lodge Piper, playing at official ceremonies and at the Harmony. For a Scottish Mason, the Harmony is more than a gathering after the formal proceedings. It brings brethren together over food, toasts, conversation and entertainment, with music helping to give the occasion its character.
As a piper, I could contribute something familiar from my Scottish background to the life of the Lodge. The pipes had accompanied me through many parts of my life, and here they became part of another tradition, joining ceremony with fellowship.
Looking back, I remember the people, the preparation and the opportunities I had to contribute through service and music. I would not claim to have mastered every lesson Freemasonry offered, but the working tools gave me a way to think about time, conscience and the value of continued learning. Those ideas were worth considering long after the formal proceedings had ended.
There is something fitting about the fact that my Masonic journey led me to a building opposite the house where my grandparents had lived. That connection had been there long before I recognised it. In time, the Lodge became part of my own history: a place of learning, friendship, responsibility, ceremony and music.
And sometimes, the road ahead begins just across the street.
The Sound Cafe Journal
Where the story behind the music matters.
Find Out More About Stevie Connor HERE
