Rector of Stewky

Under the bleak late-Victorian beamed roof of Westminster Church House last week sat the Worshipful Frederick Keppel North, Chancellor of the Diocese of Norwich, at the head of an ecclesiastical court to hear charges preferred by the Lord Bishop of Norwich against Rev. Harold F. Davidson. Church House was packed with prebendaries, minor canons, curates, newshawks. By nightfall British readers grew pop-eyed over the details of "the most sensational trial in church history." the trial of the "lewd rector of Stiffkey."

Although the lustings of the clergy have been a favorite subject of British writers from Chaucer to Fielding to the Brothers Powys, this case was important enough for the sedate London Times to give it five columns.

Stiffkey (pronounced "Stewky") is in Norfolk. Beyond officiating at matins and evensong on Sundays, bland, white-haired Dr. Davidson* spent little time there. His avowed mission was in London where he devoted himself to saving errant girls. "We believe," ran the formal charge, "that the Rev. Harold F. Davidson had a right and duty to rescue maidens from a life of sin, but that in the process he should not have: "Systematically misbehaved himself -- "Kissed and hugged Barbara Harris in a Chinese restaurant in Bloomsbury "Permitted 17-year-old Barbara Harris to sleep in his bed -- "Been guilty of immoral conduct with Rose Ellis, 30, over a period of ten years -- "Paid room rent for a dozen girls with whom he had unepiscopal relations -- /-"Been barred from two London restaurants for accosting waitresses -- "Embraced Betty Beach, an actress, while she was clad only in her nightie -- "Taken Rose Ellis on a trip to Paris." Each of these points was taken up by the Bishop's prosecutor, a gentleman who bore the high chivalric names of Charlemagne's champions: Roland & Oliver. Only two women were in court: the rector's wife, who sat among the witnesses, and a dark mysterious woman in scarlet who sat in the balcony, never spoke, fascinated the gentlemen of the Press. White-haired Dr. Davidson rushed into court breathless, flustered, 20 minutes late, followed by an infuriated taxi-driver who shouted that the defendant had slipped him a penny instead of a half-crown for his fare. Throughout the trial the rector had trouble with taximen. One day he had to borrow his fare from a reporter. Chief witness was 17-year-old Barbara Harris, who first complained of the rector's behavior to his bishop. Counsel for the Defense, a Mr. Levy, quickly proved that Miss Harris had had promiscuous affairs with various men of assorted races and colors for several years, that Dr. Davidson had made various efforts to get her to change her mode of life, and once saved her from a lover who was trying to punch her face. "All right, all right," said Miss Harris, "but when he came to my room he didn't talk about religion. ... He wanted to show me his appendicitis scar." This unveiling was prefaced by one of Dr. Davidson's favorite jokes. Miss Harris repeated it thus to the Court: "A girl and a Scotsman were sitting in the park opposite St. George's Hospital. The Scotsman said: 'I will show you where I had my appendicitis operation.' The girl replied, 'No don't show me here.' The Scotsman took her across the road, pointed at the hospital and said, 'This is where I had my operation.' " "Hrrumph!" said the Worshipful Frederick North. "Let me understand you, Miss Harris. The girl and the Scotsman were in a park opposite St. George's Hospital. That would of course be Hyde Park, and it is his premise that the girl be shown the actual scar on his person while he actually showed her St. George's Hospital?" Miss Harris nodded. The Worshipful Frederick pondered for some time. "I don't think I ever heard a joke with less joke in it," said he. The rector of Stiffkey, whether lustful or not, was certainly courageous. On Sunday in the interval of his trial he went back to Stiffkey and preached two sermons. Only four members of his regular congregation attended. Even the organist, a cautious lady, stayed away. The white-haired rector stalked down the aisle crying dramatically, "I must have someone to help me!" A grey-haired male stranger volunteered. For evensong rubberneck wagons, taxis, excursion trains brought gaping crowds from miles around. The church was packed. Special police had to handle the crowds. Dr. Davidson preached on the Resurrection, as befitted the season, but added a few personal remarks: "If improper thought comes to us, there is no harm in that whatsoever, because that is Temptation, but we must not encourage it." At the end of the service he took up a collection "for my work of helping my poor girls." At Walsingham. Norfolk, police court, the trial of Dr. Davidson for riding an unlighted bicycle at Stiffkey was adjourned last week "because the rector is on more important business in London."

*The lustful pastor in the late Jeanne Eagels' most successful play Rain was also a "Reverend Davidson." /-Literally "conduct unbecoming a sheep herder," overseer or bishop. For Ye were as sheep going astray; but arc now returned unto the Shepherd and Bishop of your souls.--Peter 1, 2:25.

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