"Wicked Character"

One day last February, Mrs. Olive Du-rand-Deacon left her respectable London hotel to keep an appointment with dapper, 39-year-old John George Haigh. She was never seen again. Three days later, Haigh himself went to the police station and reported the disappearance. The wealthy 6g-year-old widow, he said, had never shown up for the date.

When Scotland Yard found some acid-charred human bones and a fragment of what appeared to be the widow's red plastic handbag in the yard of an abandoned factory, Haigh was arrested. London's liveliest dailies splashed the story over Page One. After reporters learned that the Yard was hunting five other missing persons, the tabloid Mirror, the world's largest daily (circ. 4,000,000) and London's most sensational, promptly cried "Bluebeard" and headlined: HOW MANY RICH WIDOWS DIED?

But when Haigh was formally charged with Mrs. Durand-Deacon's murder last month, the stories were toned down in conformance with law and immemorial British journalistic practice. Once a person has been charged with a crime, English law prohibits publication of evidence that might prejudice a fair trial for the accused.

It also forbids linking a suspect to crimes other than the one with which he is charged. The mystery of the miss ing persons stayed on Page One -- but Haigh was not mentioned in the story.

The Haigh story was discreetly moved to an inside page in all dailies except the Mirror.

Vampire Horror. Mirror Editor Silves ter Bolam thought he had an exclusive angle, and took a chance to play it. On Page One, Bolam ran a three-column picture captioned: "Women Struggle to See Haigh Charged." Right next to it was a story headlined VAMPIRE HORROR IN LONDON. Its lurid tale:

Scotland Yard was hunting an unnamed "vampire maniac" who had drunk the blood of six victims and then destroyed their bodies. (U.S. papers, which reported Haigh had confessed the killings, said he had sucked his victims' blood "through lemonade straws.")

British readers, who are used to the journalistic trick of printing two stories to get around the English law, got the point. So did Scotland Yard. It warned the Mirror and other London editors to watch what they were saying. Next day the Mirror took another chance; it told readers that the "vampire killer" --not identified--had been caught.

Grave Error. Prisoner Haigh promptly asked for a writ of attachment against Editor Bolam and the Mirror for prejudicing his right to a fair trial. Bolam made the best defense he could find; he pleaded "guilty of a grave error for which I tender my most humble apologies."

Last week, in a London court, bewigged Lord Chief Justice Lord Goddard gave his stern verdict: the Mirror was "a disgrace to English journalism . . . justice and fair play . . . There has never been a case ... of such a scandalous and wicked character. This has been done, not as an error of judgment, but as a matter of policy, pandering to sensationalism [to increase] circulation . . ." The Mirror was fined $40,000. Bolam was sentenced to three months in Brixton Prison (where Haigh is waiting trial), the first editor to be imprisoned under the law in 48 years.

London newspapers carried a brief factual report of Bolam's conviction, with no hints of vampires. None protested the verdict. The Times, which had printed only official announcements in the Haigh case, even cheered Lord Goddard; it thought its tabloid contemporary guilty of "a plain abuse of the right to report news freely."

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