Here's the Sacco and Vanzetti letter. Like most of Pauline's letters to Friday, it was typewritten on onion-skin paper, and I left the spelling and grammar intact to show the change in her emotional state as she wrote.
I think it speaks for itself.
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A-37 Box 1, Folder 8 “Pauline Newman, 1927 – 1961”
New York City
Tuesday August 23rd, 1927.
Dear Girl:
It is raining--and to-day it should. Sacco and Venzetti have been officially murdered, and there is no place for sunshine to-day. If there is such a force which manipulates these things, then it is well that the sun is hidden from our eyes to-day. The rain, and the slight wind, the clouded and sumber sky is more to my liking to-day. It somehow fits in with an aching heart and a very weary mind! But to tell you all I went through since I left you, I must begin with my boarding the train. As you know there is no newspaper to be gotten on the Bethel local. But when we changed for South Norwalk, I tried to get one at the station only to find that the stand close. On entering the train, however, I saw a man sleeping and a newspaper beside him. In my desire to know what the latest news was, I picked up the paper, and there I saw that there is no hope left. Every one, even Brandies gave his “reason” for not interfering, and there was no longer any hope any where. And then I saw a letter Sacco had written to his son Dante, and began to read it but could no longer control myself and wept all the way into the City. The horror of the whole thing just got hold of me and there was nothing left but a terrible helplessness and a feeling of utter hopelessness such as I have never felt before entered my soul. For the longest while I could not make up my mind whether I am to go home or not, and suddenly remembered that there was to be a meeting at the Community Church. Bought another paper and saw that the meeting was turned into a “Death Watch” meeting, so went into the League, got me a cup of coffee and with Agnes went to the meeting. The church was packed, tho we found seats. Men and women whom I have not seen since the days of my activity were there, and the chairman of the S. Party came over and asked me whether, if the meeting should continue until after midnight, I would speak, and I said “yes.” For I was sufficiently stirred to speak, though I was not at all sure that I would be able to control my emotion and -- tears.
But the delegation came back from Boston about ten o’clock and when we saw their faces, we knew that there was no hope left. And then Mr. Lovett spoke, and except Thomas, his was the most wonderful speech I have heard! He called Lowell of Harward first a lier and then murderer and the house was cheering for fully five minutes -- never shall I forget that moment. And when the cheering and the tumult had ceased, he said, “I repeat, that if Pres. Lowell does not, before midnight, recant, he is everything I said he was!” Will tell you more of his speech when I see you -- you should be proud of him -- I was.
And then Thomas came forward -- asking not to interupt him with applaus, and Fried, I have listened to speeches for more than twenty-five years and heard some eloquent speakers, but never did I hear anything better eithet from the point of view of orator of material or feeling! He was magnificient, and marvelous!
Other speakers filled in. Judge Panken told of his interview with Fuller, of the other editors and the plea of Edna St. Vincent M. all them on their knees before this one man who still had the power to show mercy -- if not justice, and then the announcement that the Governor is in conference with Mrs. Sacco and Miss Vanzeti, that and no more. More waiting until at last the announcement that there would be no reprieve. A grown from all of us, sobing, tears, men, big men weeping and standing silently with heads down while Thomas once more offered a prayer -- if you can call it that, but it was the saddest meeting I have ever lived through. There was no need for words then -- we wept not so much for Sacco and Vanzetti as for America and for justice! And then we walked to Fifth Ave and down to Union Sq. where a squad of police broke up a meeting for the communists. We went into Childs -- an old group of men and women I knew when hope was in my heart that a better, mor just day is ahead of us -- and sat talking until the first edition of the morning paper came out -- 3 a.m. It was four when I went home and brought Miss Dahme with me. She lives way out in Yonkers ans there was no train until eight in the morning so she stayed with me and there was no sleep in us any way.
I assure you that it is an effort for me to even think of anything else. And yet, life goes on as before. I got out and went to see afew people only to find that there was nothing doing in the shops. No work and consequently to business for me. I am terribly discouraged. But will try to go out tomorrow again.
…
I am sorry you were not with me last evening. I wanted, tho it be only sorrow -- to share it with you. I am terribly up-set, and the nervous strain is hard to bear. And yet, their families -- Mrs. Sacco, her two children -- and those who have been nearer to them than we are. And the terrible horrible moments for the two men! I suppose it is the mercy of nature that we cannot -- try as we may -- visualize the pain of those men! Vanzetti’s last words were “I am an inocent man, inocent of all crimes”! Sacco’s “Long live Anarchy! Good by my wife and children, good by mother -- and that is that!
And as I said last night: “their agony is over, But, the shame, the grief, the suffering of a great wrong, the disgrace of our laws and courts -- are ours to endure!”
It is still raining, and the heart is heavy while the spirit wanders toward you -- where it might find some peace!
Pauline
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