"We're starting to take proposals from people," said Mr. Moore, who works two jobs and is a volunteer Riverhead firefighter. "We just want to put our feelers out and see if people are interested in a long-term lease, and what the going rate is for downtown. Selling would be like a second option."

The prominent and deceptively large 7,100-square-foot building in the heart of downtown was first a car dealership in the 1920s, then later was turned into a bowling alley and recreation center (bowling lanes are still visible inside).

It was operating as a disco when 30 members of the African-American Masonic group, Tyre Lodge 91, headquartered on Flanders Road, bought it in 1978 for $20,000.

"It's one of those organizations where money isn't the main thing," Mr. Moore said of the group and its downtown hall. "Club 91 isn't used for generating income or profit. We use it to help support our fundraisers, widows' funds, repairs. If the place isn't open for months, that's not a main concern."

The demise of Club 91, often misunderstood in the white community as simply a nightclub, comes as a big blow to blacks and other minorities in the Riverhead area, said Curtis Highsmith, the owner of B & C Cosmetic and Beauty Supplies on West Main Street in downtown Riverhead.

"They've done some wonderful things over there. They've rented that club to Hispanics, just about anybody who needed a space but couldn't afford a big hall," Mr. Highsmith said, adding that he once rented Club 91 for $50 to make a short film.

"I wanted that look of the old type club, the dingy look, and we cut [the film] right in there," he recalled. "It's really going to be missed by the community."

Mr. Toler said all Freemasons "have a creed that we try to help those who are in need of help without making a big deal of it."

He spoke of his group's good deeds over the years in remembrance of the club and the Riverside Masons, who trace their history to 1949.

"We were never really interested in trying to make a lot of money but to do some good for some people that could use our help," he said. "We wanted to make enough to pay the expenses, but as times got a harder, we got less and less members participating. Those that are participating are getting a little older, and that makes it a little harder."

Mr. Toler is one of only eight men left of the 30 who bought the building in 1978, when at any given time from Thursday through Sunday a fellow Mason could walk inside and find his friends hanging out somewhere along the 60-foot bar or in the lounge, or shooting pool or darts.

"We didn't feel it was appropriate to hold parties or fundraisers in our place on Flanders Road, which is where we hold our meetings," Mr. Toler said of the reasoning behind buying the property. "We all pooled our money for the club, which was an unusual thing for a [Masonic] group to do.

"Since then, we've given the place up for people who might not otherwise be able to rent a fancy hall. We've had weddings there, funerals. We've given our building to the Red Cross. To me those were the memorable things. It was nice to have the building to go to when people were in need."

Mr. Moore's phone has been constantly ringing since they've put the building up for lease, but he said almost all of the prospective tenants want to turn the building into a dance club.

That's where the conversation usually ends.

Not only do the Masons feel that a dance club wouldn't fit into the current vision for downtown Riverhead, Mr. Moore explained, the tenant wouldn't be allowed to use Club 91's liquor license.

"That would be like me giving you my car and driver's license and letting you drive around," Mr. Moore explained to a caller during one inquiry, noting that a church that has since opened up a few doors down would prevent a tenant from serving booze.

"We are kind of hoping doctors' offices or something like that would be interested in leasing," he said. "We wanted to help the downtown area, and we wanted to be careful of who we're leasing it to."

He said the group is entertaining offers from potential buyers, but reiterated that selling would be the last resort.

"We really didn't want to give up that spot," he said. "These guys have worked hard in purchasing the lodge and this place, and if Riverhead bounces back we would want to be a part of it."

But, he admits, the Masons' future, along with the future of other fraternal groups across the country, at times looks as bleak as that of Club 91.

"The Blues Festival sustains us all year, but when you get three members out of 80 committed to your major fundraiser, that's pretty sad. People are in their 70s or 80s and can't do it anymore, and you get younger members but they can't volunteer because the property taxes are so high, they gotta work. It puts the writing on the wall."

He said that in a perfect world, the group would draw scores of new, dedicated members who would be willing to sacrifice the time and money necessary to save the club, and with it, an important part of the group's history.

"Then we could just remake this whole thing," he said, peering at the aged building from the parking lot at its rear. "Maybe put a balcony out here in the back, overlooking the river. Just sit and enjoy the water. That would be heaven.

"But then I would probably have to give up my pickup truck."

mwhite@timesrevie.com

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