The Fumigation and the Full Moon: Another Story from the Lunar Lodge Project

As part of my ongoing research project—Under the Light of the Moon: The History and Legacy of Lunar Masonic Lodges in America—I’ve had the privilege of connecting with Brethren across the country whose lodges maintain unique and often symbolic traditions rooted in Masonic heritage.

The project began as a personal exploration, inspired by my membership in Mariposa Lodge No. 24, a Lunar Lodge in California that has met on or before the full moon since its chartering in 1853. What started as curiosity has now grown into a nationwide study, with 59 Lunar Lodges identified across 18 states and the District of Columbia. The project has entered an ethnographic phase, focusing not only on data collection but on capturing the living voices and experiences of Masons who preserve these traditions.

I recently shared the story of Chalk Mountain Lodge in Texas during Masonic Education at San Dimas Masonic Lodge. That lodge, chartered in 1904, has passed the lunar tradition through generations of the same family. It is one example of how symbolism, history, and family intersect in our Craft.

But today’s spotlight shines on Putnam Lodge No. 46 in Connecticut—one of the most historically vibrant and ritual-rich lodges I’ve encountered in this research. Putnam has met continuously since 1801, never missing a Stated Communication, and still meets according to the lunar cycle.

One of the most memorable customs preserved at Putnam is its annual fumigation.

Each December, the lodge hosts its Annual Communication, which draws Masons from across New England, New York, and sometimes even further. The day begins at 10 a.m., and at noon, the Brethren adjourn for a traditional meal of homemade oyster stew and apple pie. It’s more than a meal—it’s a ritual of its own.

Following lunch, the lodge reconvenes to conduct the annual election of officers. But once the election is complete, the Worshipful Master calls the lodge to refreshment, and the room prepares for what comes next: the fumigation.

Stewards distribute cigars—referred to affectionately as “ammunition.” At the Master's signal, all cigars are lit at once. The room quickly fills with smoke. Laughter, jokes, and storytelling fill the lodge room as the Brothers enjoy a tradition that dates back over two centuries. According to lodge lore, the Worshipful Master cannot close the meeting until he can no longer see the Senior Warden through the haze.

While good-humored in tone, the fumigation is also steeped in symbolic meaning. It’s said to drive out “insects, varmints, and critters,” but also serves as a nod to General Israel Putnam, for whom the lodge is named. General Putnam received cigars and sugar cane from the British Crown for his service in Cuba, and the lodge has honored him in this smoky, spirited way ever since.

These stories are exactly why I launched the Lunar Lodge Project—to document not just when or where Masons meet by the moon, but how they meet: the customs they uphold, the symbols they protect, and the spirit they keep alive.

Putnam’s fumigation is just one of many stories being uncovered. As the project continues, I’ll be sharing more traditions like these—ones that remind us that Freemasonry isn’t fading; it’s evolving, preserving, and sometimes laughing through the smoke.

I invite you to follow this journey, whether through future blog posts, public presentations, or conversations at lodge. These stories are more than historical footnotes—they're beacons that just might help us rediscover our Craft under the light of the moon.

The Presidents’ Gathering: A Story of Brotherhood, Leadership, and Freemasonry

It was a quiet evening in a room that exuded history and reflection. The ambiance was humble yet dignified, with oak-panelled walls and a warm glow emanating from a nearby fireplace. In this space, five former U.S. presidents, each a proud member of the Masonic Fraternity, had gathered for an informal conversation. The air was thick with respect, camaraderie, and a shared sense of purpose. They were all men who had guided the nation through trials and triumphs, but this evening, they spoke not as leaders of the country, but as brothers of the Craft.

At the head of the gathering sat George Washington, the first president of the United States, his dignified presence lending an air of wisdom to the room. To his right, Andrew Jackson, the fiery, no-nonsense seventh president, leaned forward, eager to share his thoughts. Theodore Roosevelt, always the energetic and determined voice in the room, sat across from him with a smile, his trademark enthusiasm palpable even in the company of such great men. Beside him, Franklin D. Roosevelt sat thoughtfully, his calm and reflective demeanor a reminder of the quiet strength he had displayed throughout his presidency. Lastly, Harry S. Truman, the straight-talking president who had faced some of the most difficult decisions in history, sat with a gentle smile, his sharp mind still ever-present.

The conversation began when Washington, looking over the group, spoke with the depth and deliberation of a man who had lived through both the birth of a nation and the challenges of leading it.

"Brothers," he said, his voice steady, "we are united not only by our shared history as presidents but by a deeper bond—a bond forged in the ideals of Freemasonry. I have often reflected on why we, each of us, came to the Craft. What drew us to this noble institution, and what lessons has it provided us as men, as leaders?"

Jackson, his eyes intense with purpose, was the first to respond. "For me, Freemasonry was always about honor and duty," he said. "I came from humble beginnings, and Freemasonry helped me refine my character. As a soldier, I learned the importance of integrity, respect for others, and personal accountability. These values, embodied in the Craft, were central to my leadership and my sense of purpose."

Roosevelt, ever the passionate advocate for action, leaned forward and added, "I joined Freemasonry because it represented the values I held dear—service, action, and the belief that we are all bound to help one another. Freemasonry doesn’t just teach us ideals; it demands that we live them. Throughout my time in public office, it became a constant reminder that leadership isn't about power but service, about duty to our fellow men and women."

Franklin D. Roosevelt, sitting back in his chair, spoke with a calm, reflective tone. "For me, the Craft came at a time when I was grappling with personal adversity. Polio changed my life, but Freemasonry reminded me that adversity does not define us; our response to it does. The values of the Craft gave me strength to lead during one of the most challenging periods in American history. It was the sense of unity and the understanding that we can always do more, together, that carried me through."

Truman, who had navigated the nation through the aftermath of World War II, looked around the room thoughtfully. "For me, Freemasonry was a constant source of moral grounding. In times of crisis, when faced with some of the hardest decisions of my life, the principles of the Craft were a reminder to act with integrity and honor. It kept me focused on what was right, not what was easiest."

The five men sat in a reflective silence, each of them contemplating their individual journeys in the Craft. Washington broke the silence, his voice calm but resolute. "It seems clear to me that each of us found something in Freemasonry that resonated deeply with our personal values and our leadership. But it was more than that. It was a tool that shaped us—both as men and as leaders. The lessons we learned in the Lodge stayed with us, guiding us through our public and private lives."

Jackson nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Exactly," he said. "The Lodge provided a way to sharpen our moral compass, to remind us of the values we must always strive for. It helped me maintain my focus and my integrity, even in the face of adversity."

Roosevelt, ever the optimist, smiled. "The true beauty of Freemasonry is that it not only teaches us what it means to be a good leader—it teaches us what it means to be a good man. The lessons we learned were not just about governance or strategy; they were about service, about caring for others, and about leading with compassion."

Franklin D. Roosevelt looked toward Truman, the two men sharing a moment of quiet understanding. "We were fortunate, gentlemen," he said softly, "to have been given the tools to serve, to lead, and to better ourselves through the principles of Freemasonry. These principles are timeless, guiding us to be the best versions of ourselves, no matter the circumstances."

Truman smiled, his face reflecting a deep sense of satisfaction. "Freemasonry gave us the foundation to do what was necessary when the times were toughest. It gave us the strength to make hard choices, knowing that we were guided by principles that transcended any one individual."

Ford, who had been silently observing, finally spoke. "It's incredible to think about how Freemasonry not only shaped our actions but also our legacy. We were able to pass those principles on to future generations, and those lessons continue to resonate today."

Washington, with a final, thoughtful glance at his fellow leaders, raised his glass. "To Freemasonry," he said, "to brotherhood, and to service. May we always be guided by its teachings, and may we continue to uphold the virtues it imparts."

The five men raised their glasses, united not just by their shared history, but by the lasting impact that Freemasonry had on their lives and leadership. It was a bond forged in the Lodge, where the values of integrity, service, and brotherhood had helped shape their path—not just as presidents, but as men dedicated to the betterment of themselves and the world around them.