A Change In Service -- From The Elks To The Moose, From Kiwanis To Variety Club, Local Groups Find The Next Generation Isn't Joining Their Ranks

The luncheon begins - as most of them do - with the Pledge of Allegiance, an invocation and a verse of "America."

Some of the members are dressed in modest suits. Others in work jackets. Except for the female president, the members of the North Central Kiwanis Club at the weekly luncheon are men, fiftysomething or older.

Salt-of-the-earth guys who care about their country and community, the American flag, the blue and gold North Central Kiwanis Club banner . . .

What about those gift boxes, they ask? The groceries, the requests for 45 pairs of shoes, Value Village gift certificates, those 19 needy families referred to the club by schools.

And what about those aprons? New members (male or female) must wear an apron signed by all members. Those who forget to sign pay a fine. Those who forget and sign twice pay a fine. The fines go to charity.

We hope you'll come back, they urge the visitor. They mean: We hope you'll join.

While the national headquarters reports membership is steady, due to the women who joined since the club opened its doors to them in 1987, local Kiwanis clubs in particular are finding their membership is slowly declining.

They aren't alone.

From the Seattle Variety Club to the Masonic Lodge, from the Independent Order of Odd Fellows to the Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks, the fraternal, charitable and service organizations that have been the backbones of baseball teams, youth programs, scholarships, raffles, concerts, telethons, haunted houses and pancake breakfasts - not to mention some major building projects - are finding the next generation isn't joining the ranks.

The average age of members at the Tacoma Elks Lodge 174, the largest Elks lodge in the country, is now 63.

For Seattle Masons and Odd Fellows, it's in the 50s and 60s.

For the Seattle Rotary, locally the powerhouse of business professionals, the average age is fiftysomething.

The average age of Variety Club members was 50, just before it closed its office in November, its membership having dwindled from 500 to less than 20.

During the '50s and '60s it had been one of the most active and popular philanthropic men's clubs in Seattle, with community leaders like Jack Keene, Fred Danz, Lou Laventhal, Roscoe "Torchy" Torrance, Zollie Volchok and Ralph Grossman among the leaders.

Why wasn't the club able to attract new members to take its fund-raising legacy into the next generation?

"I don't know. We certainly kept trying," Volchok says. "I think we are a catastrophe of the recession and competition from other charities."

The Variety Club also was dealt a blow recently when Children's Hospital opted to participate in a national telethon, rather than the smaller Variety Club-sponsored one. Although disappointed, club members understood the decision, it eliminated the hospital's reliance on the club and called into question Variety's reason for existing.

Over its 37 years, the Variety Club donated more than $20 million to various charities. It was instrumental in building housing units for the families of children being treated at Children's Hospital, built the hospital's birth-defects center and tackled many other hospital-related projects.

It also provided 170 "coaches" to charities unable to afford vans to transport children to medical appointments, day care and educational programs and every Christmas held a toy drive to benefit the hospital.

Even though the club has folded, Ralph Grossman and Jack Keene are still trying to keep the toy drive alive - although they are virtually alone in their efforts.

Years ago, successful young men joined the fraternity or philanthropic group of their fathers, working to benefit the community. Today, they're joining professional organizations or groups with specific causes. As the backers of some of the long-established organizations are fewer and fewer, one may wonder about the fate of some of the enormous projects they support:

-- The Masons have their home for the elderly near Des Moines and their policy for caring for members in need. Nationally, their elite Shriners faction is well known for its burn center and hospital and philanthropic efforts on behalf of children.

-- The Elks are known for their efforts to educate youth through scholarships. At the national level they give away about $5 million annually to a variety of causes.

-- The Seattle Rotary, one of the largest affiliates in the world, has been involved in youth mentoring programs, building facilities for KCTS public television and providing a grant to start Medic I, among many other endeavors.

"Anything that affects resources for charitable organizations is pretty sad," says Ron Gibbs, executive director for United Ways of Washington. "Every dollar helps, there is no question about that. Some other trends in giving might be able to counter the loss, but it would take time."

Some of the larger men's club beneficiaries now have sophisticated development offices that can bring more donations than their early sponsors ever gathered. For smaller charities, the question remains: If the clubs do fold, where does the money come from?

Some of the groups - like the usually quiet food and clothing bank organizers supported by the Issaquah Kiwanis - might have to become vocal advocates for their own cause, he says.

However, all is not bleak. As the baby boom generation ages, the dollars will be there, Gibbs predicts. Lying ahead are the "golden years" of philanthropy when the pool of disposable income will increase as the younger generation ages.

Organizations that are cashing in on the new wave of philanthropy recognize a diverse group of members often unrecognized by the white, male and predominantly Protestant members of traditional men's clubs.

For example, the Washington State Chapter of the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation flourishes under the partnership of upscale, educated women and men in their 30s and 40s.

The ranks of the Seattle Benefit Gang have swelled to 3,200 during the few years it's been in existence as the twentysomething generation bands together to promote charity and volunteerism.

Having age (all are 21-29) and interests in common has made it so successful, the group may open other chapters in San Francisco and Portland.

"Folks in our age group like to be with other people in our age group," says T.J. McGill, Benefit Gang executive director. "Groups like the Kiwanis and Elks haven't had effective recruiting.

"There might also be some fairly humorous misconceptions about their rituals" - the quaint folksiness of secret societies - "that are not appealing to our age group."

The younger generation points to Shriners in parades wearing fez and harem pants; the Elks' 11 p.m. toast for deceased "brothers," remembered when "the hour falls upon the dial of night" and the "great heart of Elkdom swells and throbs"; the Masons and Odd Fellows' secret signals, handshakes and ceremonies.

Thirty-three-year-old Kevin Higgins' father was an Elk. But when Higgins chose to become involved in his community, he joined the Kirkland Jaycees, which has a growing membership of men and women in their 20s and 30s, the Washington State/Chile Partners of the Americas and the Mid Puget Sound Enhancement Group, in addition to others.

"I'm avidly opposed to the pomp and circumstance" of traditional men's groups. It takes away from "getting things done," he says.

Meeting and socializing times for the younger generation are different as well, with pre-work breakfasts often preferable to long lunches, and conversation during a workout at the gym or a five-mile run more popular than kibitzing over 5 p.m. cocktails.

Higgins believes traditional men's groups also focus on nuclear families, "mythological creatures," he believes, in today's changing society.

Also a factor in the decline of some of the traditional organizations is the relative slowness in accepting either nonwhites or women as members.

There is a rift between the outgoing Nobel Grand of the Odd Fellows Anchor Lodge at 915 E. Pine, and younger members of the group regarding who can become members and plans to use the facility for a three-day-a-week soup kitchen for the homeless.

The Elks voted in 1973 to allow nonwhites to be members only after they faced nationwide criticism and efforts to revoke their liquor licenses.

Women are allowed only in auxiliaries in the Odd Fellows, Elks and Masonic orders. And service clubs excluded women until Supreme Court rulings in Minnesota and California in the late '80s pushed the Rotary, Kiwanis, Jaycees and other organizations to admit them.

Now, the members of Rotary International and Kiwanis credit the presence of women with keeping the clubs alive. "We'd be in even worse shape than we are now if it weren't for women joining," says Dennis Swenson, one of the managers at Rotary International.

"If you don't work on it, clubs become stagnant and old," says Roy Frank, Kiwanis district secretary from Beaverton, Ore.

In an apparent attempt to breathe life into its fading image, the Variety Club some time ago abandoned calling its president and treasurer the chief barker and dough guy (the group has roots in the circus and entertainment industry) in an effort to attract the support of the younger generation.

But it was too late.

The North Central Kiwanis fear a similar fate. They say the 100 kids with cerebral palsy they send to camp each year are counting on membership viability. The members speak urgently.

And lunch stretches into mid-afternoon.