onday, August 22, 1927
Sacco and Vanzetti were in the Death House in the State Prison at Charlestown.
They fully understood that they were to die immediately after midnight. Mr.
Ehrmann and I, having on their behalf exhausted every legal remedy which seemed
to us available, had retired from the active conduct of the case, holding
ourselves in readiness, however, to help their new counsel in any way we
could.
I was in New Hampshire, where a message reached me from Vanzetti that he wanted
to see me once more before he died. I immediately started for Boston with my
son, reached the prison in the late afternoon or early evening, and was at once
taken by the Warden to Vanzetti. He was in one of the three cells in a narrow
room opening immediately to the chair. In the cell nearest the chair was
Madeiros, in the middle one Sacco, and in the third I found Vanzetti. There was
a small table in his cell, and when I entered the room he seemed to be writing.
The iron bars on the front of the cell were so arranged as to leave at one
place a wider space, through which what he needed could be handed to him.
Vanzetti seemed to be expecting me; and when I entered he rose from his table,
and with his characteristic smile reached through the space between the bars
and grasped me warmly by the hand. It was intimated to me that I might sit in a
chair in front of the cell, but not nearer the bars than a straight mark
painted on the floor. This I did.
I had heard that the Governor had said that if Vanzetti would release his
counsel in the Bridgewater case from their obligation not to disclose what he
had said to them the public would be satisfied that he was guilty of that
crime, and also of the South Braintree crime. I therefore began the interview
by asking one of the two prison guards who sat at the other end of the room,
about fifteen feet from where we were, to come to the front of the cell and
listen to the questions I was about to ask Vanzetti and to his replies. I then
asked Vanzetti if he had at any time said anything to Mr. Vahey or Mr. Graham
which would warrant the inference that he was guilty of either crime. With
great emphasis and obvious sincerity he answered no. He then said what he had
often said to me before, that Messrs. Vahey and Graham were not his personal
choice, but became his lawyers at the urgent request of friends, who raised the
money to pay them. He then told me certain things about their relations to him
and about their conduct of the Bridgewater case, and what he had in fact told
them. This on the next day I recorded, but will not here repeat.
I asked Vanzetti whether he would authorize me to waive on his behalf his
privilege so far as Vahey and Graham were concerned. He readily assented to
this, but imposed the condition that they should make whatever statement they
saw fit to make in the presence of myself or some other friend, giving his
reasons for this condition, which I also recorded.
The guard then returned to his seat.
I told Vanzetti that although my belief in his innocence had all the time been
strengthened, both by my study of the evidence and by my increasing knowledge
of his personality, yet there was a chance, however remote, that I might be
mistaken; and that I thought he ought for my sake, in this closing hour of his
life when nothing could save him, to give me his most solemn reassurance, both
with respect to himself and with respect to Sacco. Vanzetti then told me
quietly and calmly, and with a sincerity which I could not doubt, that I need
have no anxiety about this matter; that both he and Sacco were absolutely
innocent of the South Braintree crime, and that he (Vanzetti) was equally
innocent of the Bridgewater crime; that while, looking back, he now realized
more clearly than he ever had the grounds of the suspicion against him and
Sacco, he felt that no allowance had been made for his ignorance of American
points of view and habits of thought, or for his fear as a radical and almost
as an outlaw, and that in reality he was convicted on evidence which would not
have convicted him had he not been an anarchist, so that he was in a very real
sense dying for his cause. He said it was a cause for which he was prepared to
die. He said it was the cause of the upward progress of humanity, and the
elimination of force from the world. He spoke with calmness, knowledge, and
deep feeling. He said he was grateful to me for what I had done for him. He
asked to be remembered to my wife and son. He spoke with emotion of his sister
and of his family. He asked me to do what I could to clear his name, using the
words "clear my name."
I asked him if he thought it would do any good for me or any friend to see
Boda. He said he thought it would. He said he did not know Boda very well, but
believed him to be an honest man, and thought possibly he might be able to give
some evidence which would help to prove their innocence.
I then told Vanzetti that I hoped he would issue a public statement advising
his friends against retaliating by violence and reprisal. I told him that, as I
read history, the truth had little chance of prevailing when violence was
followed by counter-violence. I said that, as he well knew, I could not
subscribe to his views or to his philosophy of life; but that, on the other
hand, I could not but respect any man who consistently lived up to altruistic
principles, and was willing to give his life for them. I said that if I were
mistaken, and if his views were true, nothing could retard their acceptance by
the world more than the hate and fear that would be stirred up by violent
reprisal. Vanzetti replied that, as I must well know, he desired no personal
revenge for the cruelties inflicted upon him; but he said that, as he read his
story, every great cause for the benefit of humanity had had to fight for its
existence against entrenched power and wrong, and that for this reason he could
not give his friends such sweeping advice as I had urged. He added that in such
struggles he was strongly opposed to any injury to women and children. He asked
me to remember the cruelty of seven years of imprisonment, with alternating
hopes and fears. He reminded me of the remarks attributed to Judge Thayer by
certain witnesses, especially by Professor Richardson, and asked me what state
of mind I thought such remarks indicated. He asked me how any candid man could
believe that a judge capable of referring to men accused before him as
"anarchistic bastards" could be impartial, and whether I thought that such
refinement of cruelty as had been practiced upon him and upon Sacco ought to go
unpunished.
I replied that he well knew my own opinion of these matters, but that his
arguments seemed to me not to meet the point I had raised, which was whether he
did not prefer the prevalence of his opinions to the infliction of punishment
upon persons, however richly he might think they deserved it. This led to a
pause in the conversation.
Without directly replying to my question, Vanzetti then began to speak of the
origin, early struggles, and progress of other great movements for human
betterment. He said that all great altruistic movements originated in the brain
of some man of genius, but later became misunderstood and perverted, both by
popular ignorance and by sinister self interest. He said that all great
movements which struck at conservative standards, received opinions,
established institutions, and human selfishness were at first met with violence
and persecution. He referred to Socrates, Galileo, Giordano Bruno, and others
whose names I do not now remember, some Italian and some Russian. He then
referred to Christianity, and said that it began in simplicity and sincerity,
which were met with persecution and oppression, but that it later passed
quietly into ecclesiasticism and tyranny. I said I did not think that the
progress of Christianity had been altogether checked by convention and
ecclesiasticism, but that on the contrary it still made an appeal to thousands
of simple people, and that the essence of the appeal was the supreme confidence
shown by Jesus in the truth of His own views by forgiving, even when on the
Cross, His enemies, persecutors, and slanderers.
Now, for the first and only time in the conversation, Vanzetti showed a feeling
of personal resentment against his enemies. He spoke with eloquence of his
sufferings, and asked me whether I thought it possible that he could forgive
those who had persecuted and tortured him through seven years of inexpressible
misery. I told him he knew how deeply I sympathized with him, and that I could
not say that if I were in the same situation I should not have the same
feeling; but I said that I had asked him to reflect upon the career of One
infinitely superior to myself and to him, and upon a force infinitely greater
than the force of hate and revenge. I said that in the long run the force to
which the world would respond was the force of love and not of hate, and that I
was suggesting to him to forgive his enemies, not for their sakes, but for his
own peace of mind, and also because an example of such forgiveness would in the
end be more powerful to win adherence to his cause or to a belief in his
innocence than anything else that could be done.
There was another pause in the conversation. I arose and we stood gazing at
each other for a minute or two in silence. Vanzetti finally said that he would
think of what I had said. [See Endnote 1].
I then made a reference to the possibility of personal immortality, and said
that, although I thought I understood the difficulties of a belief in
immortality, yet I felt sure that if there was a personal immortality he might
hope to share it. This remark he received in silence.
He then returned to his discussion of the evil of the present organization of
society, saying that the essence of the wrong was the opportunity it afforded
persons who were powerful because of ability or strategic economic position to
oppress the simple-minded and idealistic among their fellow men, and that he
feared that nothing but violent resistance could ever overcome the selfishness
which was the basis of the present organization of society and made the few
willing to perpetuate a system which enabled them to exploit the many.
I have given only the substance of this conversation, but I think I have
covered every point that was talked about and have presented a true picture of
the general tenor of Vanzetti's remarks. Throughout the conversation, with the
few exceptions I have mentioned, the thought that was uppermost in his mind was
the truth of the ideas in which he believed for the betterment of humanity, and
the chance they had of prevailing. I was impressed by the strength of
Vanzetti's mind, and by the extent of his reading and knowledge. He did not
talk like a fanatic. Although intensely convinced of the truth of his own
views, he was still able to listen with calmness and with understanding to the
expression of views with which he did not agree. In this closing scene the
impression of him which had been gaining ground in my mind for three years was
deepened and confirmed--that he was a man of powerful mind, of unselfish
disposition, of seasoned character, and of devotion to high ideals. There was
no sign of breaking down or of terror at approaching death. At parting he gave
me a firm clasp of the hand and a steady glance, which revealed unmistakably
the depth of his feeling and the firmness of his self-control.
I then turned to Sacco, who lay upon a cot bed in the adjoining cell and could
easily have heard and undoubtedly did hear my conversation with Vanzetti. My
conversation with Sacco was very brief. He rose from his cot, referred
feelingly though in a general way to some points of disagreement between us in
the past, said he hoped that our differences of opinion had not affected our
personal relations, thanked me for what I had done for him, showed no sign of
fear, shook hands with me firmly, and bade me good-bye. His manner also was one
of absolute sincerity. It was magnanimous in him not to refer more specifically
to our previous differences of opinion, because at the root of it all lay his
conviction, often expressed to me, that all efforts on his behalf, either in
court or with public authorities, would be useless, because no capitalistic
society could afford to accord him justice. I had taken the contrary view; but
at this last meeting he did not suggest that the result seemed to justify his
view and not mine. [See Endnote 2].
Endnotes:
1. It is credibly reported that when, a few hours later, Vanzetti was about to
step into the chair, he paused, shook hands with the Warden and Deputy Warden
and the guards, thanked them for their kindness to him, and, turning to the
spectators, asked them to remember that he forgave some of his
enemies.--W.G.T.
2. I afterward talked with the prison guard to whom I have referred in this
paper. He told me that after he returned to his seat he heard all that was said
by Vanzetti and myself. The room was quiet and no other persons were talking. I
showed the guard my complete notes of the interview, including what Vanzetti
had told me about Messrs. Vahey and Graham. He read the notes carefully and
said that they corresponded entirely with his memory except that I had omitted
a remark made by Vanzetti about women and children. I then remembered the
remark and added it to my memorandum.--W.G.T.
Copyright © 1928 The Atlantic Monthly. All rights reserved.