The Bishop of Strangnas

Toward the end of the trial, the bishop began to wilt, his ruddy face gone sallow, his eyes vacant behind the thick lenses. As the prosecutor summed up--about the missing typewriter, the assumed name, the charwoman's scrap of paper, the fingerprints--the bishop clutched his chair, and glanced nervously from judge to defense counsel. Finally, last week, it was over, and all Sweden breathed a sigh of relief.

It was just about a year ago that Sweden was first presented with the strange case of the Rev. Dick (not a nickname) A. V. Helander, 57, former professor of theology at Uppsala University. In October 1952, he was elected Lutheran Bishop of Strangnas, in eastern Sweden. This was unexceptionable enough; he was one of Sweden's most respected conservative theologians, head of Stockholm's College of Deacons since 1936, and author of many books. But a few weeks later, two of the defeated candidates for the bishopric made a strange charge; before the voting, they said, many anonymous letters were circulated which slandered all the other candidates and praised Helander. The two formally brought suit against the Bishop of Strangnas for libel.

Calm, dignified and impressively tall, Bishop Helander came before the court to answer the charge. He swore on his "honor and conscience ... as a bishop and a Christian" that he was innocent. Then for 17 days he was turning and turning like a baited animal to defend himself against the evidence that came at him from every side.

Poison Typewriters. An expert from Sweden's Central Criminal Laboratory testified "with nearly 100% certainty" that the letters were written on three typewriters--a Swedish Halda, a Royal and a Remington. All three were among those used by a group of assistants working for Helander at the university.

Most of the letters, according to the expert, were typed on the Halda--a machine Helander borrowed from Uppsala's theological faculty and carried with him to Strangnas when he went to take up residence there as bishop. Then, he explained, someone ruined the type--perhaps trying to clean them with a steel brush--and he took it to Stockholm for repair.

Meanwhile, the Uppsala faculty was after its machine. Instead of returning the Halda with new type, Helander bought another and sent it along. Though the serial number was similar, the porter noticed the difference and called it to the attention of the dean, who asked Helander for the original. Why the substitution? He did not want the dean to know he had broken the machine, Helander said.

As for the substitute Halda, the clerk who sold it to Helander reported that the bishop had quite a time selecting it, examining serial numbers and comparing the typing with that on a piece of paper he had brought with him. He also gave his name as "Georg Arvidsson from Sodertalje." Helander's explanation for the assumed name: he was shy by nature, and anyway, "we human beings don't all act like rational machines."

One Sure Loser. A team of linguistic experts testified to 32 different points of similarity between the anonymous letters and writings known to be by Helander. Most noteworthy: his peculiar abbreviation, "Nr:2" for "No. 2." A university charwoman testified that she found a scrap of one of the letters in Helander's scrap basket. Then the bishop's fingerprints were discovered on three of the letters.

Last week the judges pronounced their verdict: guilty. They sentenced Bishop Dick Helander to deposition from the Bishopric of Strangnas and waived the fine that might have been imposed, but ordered Helander to pay court costs of 14,500 kronor. The bishop heard the news by telephone in his episcopal residence. "I am innocent," he said. Later his lawyer announced that he would appeal.

Whatever happens to Bishop Helander, one sure loser is the Lutheran State Church of Sweden. Only two years ago the Swedish Parliament passed a law permitting Swedes to leave the church without a declaration of faith in an alternative religion. The backstage glimpses of ecclesiastical backbiting suddenly visible in the Helander case were likely to encourage more "deserters."

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