Coppin Masonic Lodge, Part I

Yesterday morning I joined my lodge brother, Nick, for a perusal of the Freemason hall on Weston Street, in Melbourne's Brunswick neighbourhood, not far from where I live. A couple of weeks ago, Nick mentioned to me that the building would soon be sold, and likely demolished. I'd ridden my bicycle past this edifice (called Coppin Masonic Lodge) several times, and admired its facade-- a dignified two-storey structure of red brick appointed conservatively with decorative ionic columns-- settled cheek-by-jowl in rows of single-family residences. It alarmed me to learn it's days were numbered.

Google Maps image of Coppin Masonic Lodge (Brunswick, Victoria, AU)

Nick explained there was only one remaining Freemason group (a "lodge" in Masonic parlance)  that still used the building, and that their last meeting would be in late April. After that, the place would be vacated permanently. A large, multifamily development is clearing ground immediately adjacent to the hall, and, given there is little financial incentive for the building to be coddled by the developer, the Freemasons expect it to be razed. The members of the remaining lodge (called Weston Street United) will meet thereafter at the hall on Davies Street, about three kilometres northeast. With regard to Coppin Lodge, however, it was Nick's job to decide what artefacts, among possible hundreds, would be saved and moved with them. Everything that remained would be thrown out or left for a wrecking crew.

Nick and I arrived together at 10:00 AM, meeting three other people inside (two Freemasons from Weston United, and the wife of one of them) who were on hand to answer questions, and take notes of what Nick planned to rescue. I had come equipped with two cameras, three rolls of colour film and a digital voice recorder and, while I managed to take a few photographs of the interior, it soon became clear that it was more important to capture as much of the conversation among the group as I could. I could take pictures later, but the anecdotal and nostalgic chatter interested me, and would not be repeated. For the next ninety minutes I followed the group from room to room, asking the occasional question, but mostly listening and making mental notes of what, after Nick had identified items to be saved, still lay in peril. Among them: a large, wrought-iron gate inlaid with the symbol of Freemasonry-- the compass and square-- that secured the stairwell to the upstairs meeting room; a chronological arrangement of colourful, hand-painted banners, each emblazoned with the name and insignia of various Freemason subgroups and the year in which they convened, and, among my favourites, two largish portraits of Queen Elizabeth II from the early 1950s. One of these portraits still hangs, as is custom, from the wall in the dining room and receives a toast from the lodge members during their dinner functions. The other was covered with a thin layer of dust and propped unceremoniously atop a row of cabinets in the ladies' wardrobe.

By 11:30, Nick had made the rounds and was ready to leave. "Nick, I have to come back," I said. "This was really interesting. I want to take more pictures, and there just wan't enough time to do that this morning." He seemed pleased to hear this, and said he'd help make the necessary arrangements to get me back inside.