Bishop's Bobble

Taking his ease on a cottage porch near Hendersonville, N. C., one day last week, sat tanned, lanky Rt. Rev. Henry St. George Tucker, Presiding Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal Church. An automobile drove up. "Ablewhite!" cried Bishop Tucker. "I'm glad to see you. Come on in." He shook the hand of a dusty, weary, baldish man--Rt. Rev. Hayward Seller Ablewhite, Bishop of Northern Michigan, resigned. From a retreat in Gambier, Ohio, Bishop Ablewhite, his name beclouded in the press, had furiously driven 600 miles to beg the aid of his superior. The two sat down to talk.

Bishop Ablewhite resigned last March, when shortages of some $99,000 were discovered in the funds of his diocese. Ordinarily, the matter would not have been discussed until the bishop's resignation came before the Episcopal House of Bishops, at its meeting next November. But last month two Michigan laymen brought suit against the bishop and four trustees, demanding an accounting and restitution of the funds. And last week the Chicago Tribune splashed out stories picturing 51-year-old Bishop Ablewhite as a worldly prelate, a drinker of Scotch whiskey and champagne.

Bishop Ablewhite had, according to the Tribune, discovered shortages in diocesan funds soon after his consecration in 1930. One fund, which had shrunk from $40,000 to $30,000 was in the bishop's discretion to invest as he liked, and use for good works of any kind. In an attempt to recoup the losses, the bishop became involved with a promoter, one Harry S. Lyons, who called himself a onetime Navy captain. For a time Lyons made money for Bishop Ablewhite, and during these palmy days the two, sometimes with their wives, frequented Chicago nightspots. Finally, said the bishop, Lyons skipped out in 1935, taking with him a reported $250,000, including the $30,000 in diocesan money. Bishop Ablewhite believes that Lyons died last summer in Florida.

Soon as the Tribune had its story ready, it got a statement from the bishop. He denounced the "scandal mongers [who] have spoken of me as though my sole friends are publicans and sinners. That is, I am proud to say, true! I have no friends so self-respecting that they are in need of no repentance. . . . Why whisper and use . . . innuendo! Why not be forthright and say, as I frankly say ... that Mrs. Ablewhite and I have been at the Chez Paree, which we have enjoyed, and to other restaurants where shows have been as good or not as good. It is no crime to eat and drink for enjoyment. . . ." As for the diocesan finances, Bishop Ablewhite said he could reveal nothing until Bishop Tucker felt ready to release a formal statement which the Michigan bishop had sent him. After Bishop Ablewhite's hasty trip south, Bishop Tucker gave reporters a statement which upheld Bishop Ablewhite's personal honesty, cast some doubt on his judgment.

The defaulting Captain Lyons was apparently not the only one who used Bishop Ablewhite badly. According to the bishop, the diocesan chancellor, so trusted that for years no audit had been made of his books, had stolen $56,000 from a fund used to pay the bishop's salary. Bishop Ablewhite covered him, hoping the chancellor, a lawyer with a good practice, could make up the losses. But the chancellor died last January, leaving only $13,000 in the diocesan fund. This residue the bishop lost himself, in investments in Chicago. On the basis of the evidence perused last week by the Presiding Bishop, the only count outstanding against Bishop Ablewhite was his dubious handling of the $13,000.

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