The Passion of Sacco and Vanzetti: A New England Legend Read Free Page B

great many things to do, more than he would usually have. Vanzetti appeared to understand.
    When the Warden sat down to breakfast—usually he ate a fairly large breakfast, but this morning he had no appetite at all—he was struck with the conviction that today, as had happened several times in the past, indeed, only a week ago, the execution would be postponed; and neither Sacco nor Vanzetti would die. He realized that even if this did happen, there would still be the execution of the thief, Celestino Madeiros; and while that would be painful and unpleasant, it would certainly not be as upsetting to his nerves as this particular business with Sacco and Vanzetti.
    Having made this observation to himself, the Warden felt a good deal better, and the more he speculated on the possibility, the more it seemed that this would be the case. His whole demeanor changed. He became cheerful, and he smiled for the first time that morning as he observed to his wife that, in his opinion, the execution would be postponed.
    He was the sort of man who had, over a period of years, suppressed his own excitement, for the particular events of his life gave no joy to excitement, and little fulfillment to anticipation. His wife, therefore, was rather surprised at the eager note in his voice and at the certainty with which he made this pronouncement. She asked him an obvious question,
    â€œBut why should they postpone it any further?”
    The answer to this question, which leaped immediately into his mind, gave him reason to pause and to consider the entire proposition. He had intended to say, “The execution will be postponed because it is quite obvious to anyone who knows anything about this case, that these two men are innocent.”
    But he hesitated to say this, even to his wife. He was unwilling to place himself directly on record with such an observation. He had said too many times that questions of guilt and innocence were not for him or for any warden to decide; therefore, he reviewed some of the aspects of the case, and reminded his wife that there were a number of reasonable doubts as to the guilt of the two men.
    â€œBut how can anyone survive this kind of thing?” his wife wondered. “For seven years it has been going on like this—death and reprieve, death and reprieve. I don’t know but that it wouldn’t be better to finish with it. I couldn’t live that way.”
    â€œWhere there’s life, there’s hope,” the Warden said.
    â€œI don’t understand,” his wife went on. “Everyone connected with this thinks so well of these men.”
    â€œThey are very nice men. You would have to go a long distance to find two men like them. I can’t explain it. They are very nice and very gentle men. They are very quiet, very polite. There has never been a harsh word from either of them. They are not angry at me. I asked Vanzetti about that, and he explained that he understood, and so did Sacco, that it wasn’t my fault, what had happened to them. Vanzetti feels that anger is wasted unless it is directed in the right place.”
    â€œThat’s what makes it so strange,” his wife said.
    â€œWhy is it so strange? This is just the way it is. They are very nice.”
    â€œAnarchists,” his wife began, “are supposed to—”
    â€œNeither of us knows anything about anarchists when you come right down to it,” the Warden interrupted. “This has nothing to do with their being anarchists or not being anarchists. I don’t know much about anarchists or communists or socialists. Sacco and Vanzetti may be all three. They may be soaked in evil from head to foot. All I am saying is that you don’t notice this when you talk to them. Whenever you talk to them, you come away saying to yourself that these are two men who never, under any conceivable set of circumstances could have committed murder. Anyway, not the kind of murder that they have