CHAPTER V.

THE INDUSTRIAL DEMOCRACY TRIUMPHS IN COURT.

Time decides all things. At last, after months of delay, Sept. 29, 1912,—the day of the Ettor-Giovannitti-Caruso trial—arrives. The old red brick courthouse in the gore park on Federal street, Salem, Mass., is besieged. Three hundred and fifty veniremen have been called. Fifty newspaper men and women are present from all parts of the country. All the big news-gathering associations are represented. Friends and sympathizers and workmen's committees, appointed to see justice done, are on hand. A large number of the curious mix with the interested and help swell the throng. All crowd about the entrance, seeking admission, which is only secured by card. The roll of carriages is heard. Two draw up. An aisle of spectators is formed from the curb to the courthouse, with the police and deputy sheriffs in front. Out of the first carriage step Ettor and Giovannitti, shackled together and followed by deputies. Both wear blue suits, windsor ties and woolen shirts and slouch hats. The crowds greet them with cheer upon cheer, to which they smile in return, while the police hustle back the surging mass, amid the click of the cameras of the newspaper photographers and the moving picture men. Out of the second carriage steps Caruso, shackled to a deputy sheriff. He is attired in a cap, checked trousers, cut-away coat and white shirt. His face shows more color and less prison pallor than those of his comrades. Caruso is also greeted by the crowd and the activity of the picture-takers. All three ascend the steps of the brown-stone portico and enter the courthouse. At last the climax approaches.

In the courthouse all is subdued and tense. The newspapers from Boston, Salem, Lawrence and the principal towns of Essex County are displaying big headlines featuring the general strike news from Lawrence, Haverhill, Lynn, Quincy and other points in New England; in contrast with which are also big headlines featuring the beginning of the trial. Among the sensational items is a rumor of a march on Salem from the general strike centers. Despite the rules forbidding the reading of newspapers in the courtroom, they are stealthily read. Where this is not the case they bulge from the pockets of the veniremen, with every indication of careful perusal. Though all is still on the surface there is much subdued excitement. Every new-comer in the courtroom is anxiously interrogated about the latest news regarding the general strike. In brief, the atmosphere of the courtroom is surcharged with a feeling of gravity; of a social drama in which much is at stake.

The court is late in opening. All the veniremen, newspaper folks, court officials and prisoners are in readiness long before it is necessary. They have ample time to discuss or write up the unusual situation, which they do with quiet restraint and much material. Or they take stock of the big, square white room, with its big windows and plenty of light. At the back is the judge's bench, flanked in the rear by a small library of law books, above which is a mediocre painting of a chief justice, undoubtedly worthy of honor, but unknown to all but a few present. Before the judge's bench is a square enclosure. This contains tables for the clerk of the court and his assistants and for the district attorney. At the sides are also tables for the defense and the greater part of the press. In this square, toward the rear of the room and directly facing the judge, is the infamous prisoners' pen, immortalized by Giovannitti in a most powerful poem, called "The Cage," and written in Salem prison.*) "The Cage" is a bronze lattice work compartment, open only above the waist in front, with a bench for seating purposes, and guarded by four deputy sheriffs. All along the walls, outside of the square described, are benches, carefully arranged. Those to the left of the judge, next to the witness stand are reserved for the jury. The remainder are filled with veniremen, court officials, police, reporters and the few spectators who were influential enough to get by the guards at the door.

At last Sheriff Johnson, gold-tipped staff in hand, cries out, "The Court!" All present, at this signal, arise; more according to long-imposed custom than to actual deference. The crier calls out, "Hear ye! hear ye!" and bids all who have business there to draw near and they shall be heard. After which ancient mummery, repeated at the opening and close of every session from day to day, the court is seated and the audience follows, unlike the equals before the law with all men that they are alleged to be. The play at "law and order" where no "law and order" is needed, except in the interests of oppression, is now in full swing. But not without the presence of those social influences from which legality pretends to detach itself in an impartial and dispassionate manner, as we shall soon see. The play is continued for almost two months, with some interruptions, mainly of labor's creation, as we shall again see.

Judge Quinn, who presides, is a large, white-haired, bespectacled Irish-American, with the dignified look of a priest and the air of a sphinx. His handling of the trial was pronounced masterly at a banquet tendered him some months after by a wealthy Boston club. The friends of the prisoners condemn it for its unfairness; they believe, with a well-known Massachusetts lawyer, that, were it not for Judge Quinn's rulings, there would have been no case to try. As it was, the jury finally chosen departed without his thanks for their long services to the state. This neglect of long-established precedent reflects the court's mind. He evidently was intent on a verdict of guilt, and was piqued because it was not pronounced despite his rulings.

The task of securing the jury now begins. Here the first snag was struck, revealing the actual character of the case before the court. This is no ordinary murder trial in which jurors gladly serve. This is a social issue, pregnant with social consequences. As a result, the majority of the veniremen show a reluctance to act. They plead prejudice and opposition to capital punishment. They oppose personal ideas and conscientious scruples to the evidence and the law. They assert that they will be guided by the first to the repudiation of the latter.

The court tries in vain to break down this reluctance. He appeals to the prospective jurors to respect and uphold the law, to waive opinion in favor of evidence, to be patriotic and guided only by conscience, approved by God, in the performance of a social duty, one of the highest duties possible to man. But these appeals fail; though repeated in a variety of ways, some coaxing and persuasive, others scathing and menacing, they availeth not. To the chagrin of the court, now plainly powerless and humiliated, the New England conscience persists in its stubbornness; creating more disregard for law and opponents to capital punishment than a thousand lectures by either anarchists or the advocates of new methods for dealing with capital crimes.

The result is an exhaustion of the panel, without seven jurors having been obtained, which would enable the court to recruit the remainder from the street, regardless of opinion or scruples. With four jurors only chosen after three days, when it was thought to have the trial well under way, lawyers proclaim the situation unprecedented. The newspapers so consider and discuss it. It was not only unprecedented, but ominous. Why this condition of affairs? A New England reporter, when asked this question, said of the veniremen: "This general strike news has got them frightened. They fear the consequences. THEY ARE SCARED TO DEATH." "Conscience," says Shakespeare, "doth make cowards of us all." But it is worth noting how personal and class interests doth make conscience in conformity with themselves; also how those interests are affected and determined by other influences.

This condition of affairs caused a delay of twelve days, in order to call another venire. On Oct. 14 the court resumed again. This time success marked the efforts to secure a jury. This was partly due to the "God and Country" agitation, which, reacting from the general strike, again nerved New England to a greater solicitude for evidence and law. It was most largely due to the greater percentage of workingmen willing to serve and acceptable to the defense. Six hundred veniremen in all were examined. The jury secured, under the above circumstances, is as follows: Robert Stillman, Rockport, Mass., foreman, member Carpenters' union; Samuel F. Bond, Lynn, Mass., stockfitter, active unionist; George F. Burgess, Lynn, Mass., Cutters' Union, K. of L.; John N. Carter, Newburyport, Mass., teamster, Socialist; Willis P. Cressay, Glouster, Mass., sailmakers' union; J. J. Doran, Methuen, Mass., carpenter employed in union shop; Daniel J. Dullea, Peabody, Mass., laborer; George C. Edmonds, Amesbury, Mass., lamp worker, Socialist; Harvey Elliott, Beverly, Mass., boss carpenter, employer of union labor; Christian Larsen, Haverhill, Mass., boss barber, Socialistically inclined; Edwin S. Martin, Salem, Mass., carpenter, car builder; Fred T. Noyes, Newburyport, Mass., boss grocer.

To these men belong the honor of the verdict found in this famous trial.

With the jury finally impanelled the trial actually began. The prosecution was able but untenable. It sought to establish individual responsibility for social conditions and for violence engendered by police brutality and invasion of simple rights. Ettor was held to have planned, inspired and carried on the Lawrence strike, assisted by Giovannitti. Both incited the Italian populace, including Caruso, to violence and murder by word of mouth and the wiles of the agitator. Consequently, in the death of Annie Lo Pizzo, they were accessories before the fact, as they did thus conspire to procure her death. District Attorney Atwill, in his virulent denunciation of Ettor as "The Little General," unconsciously expounded Carlyle's theory that great men create great epochs; a view to which the jury did not at all incline, as the results show.

The untenable nature of the prosecution was shown in many ways. First, in the attempt to have the jury visit Lawrence, where, amid the display of patriotism exhibited by the "God and Country" agitation, it would be influenced in behalf of the prosecution. As the defense insisted on the right of the prisoners to also go there, the attempt was dropped; for the presence of Ettor, Giovannitti and Caruso in Lawrence at the time would be fraught with many perils to "law and order." Second, in the dates selected by the prosecution. These were January 15, after Ettor's arrival, and Jan. 29, the day of his arrest, when the strike was not yet ended. Thus the strike was to be made an Ettor affair exclusively.

It did not take long for the weakness of the prosecution to expose itself. The first three days of the trial were typical. In Solidarity, I. W. W. organ, issue of Oct. 28, 1912, the writer (who was present throughout the trial) summed them up as follows:

Since the delivery of his opening address the district attorney has summoned some ten or twelve witnesses. These witnesses, with the exception of the first three, who were members and friends of the I. W. W., made out a case against the men that, under cross-examination by counsel for the defense, either underwent vital change or else was completely destroyed; all to the advantage of Ettor, Giovannitti and Caruso.

Such was the first day's testimony that the sheriff of Essex County, who is also a lawyer, is reported to have said, "It is a shame to waste the county's money in such proceedings."

This opinion, endorsed also by others, grew on the second and third days, and was quite strong when court adjourned on that day (Friday evening) until next Monday morning.

In the two and a half days of testimony taking nothing in the way of a case was developed against the defendants. The testimony taken under cross-examination shows that the speeches and conversations of Ettor and Giovannitti have been distorted, misrepresented and otherwise adapted to the needs of the prosecution, even to the extent of suppressing entirely their most essential features.

Witnesses testified that in the preliminary trial they were not asked questions that would elicit the full purport and true meaning of all that was said; nor were they asked, in conference with the district attorney, to give all the information they possessed.

On the other hand, some of the witnesses, notably Policemen Barry and Gallagher and Reporter Joseph A. Donohue, gave more detailed information regarding the alleged incendiary speeches and conversations of Ettor and Giovannitti than they had done at the preliminary trial. And they all admitted that, since then, they had been in consultation with District Attorney Attwill on the case; all of which helped to destroy completely the effectiveness of the testimony of the commonwealth.

It would be difficult to give in detail the testimony already taken. But this much may be stated:

That the testimony shows, under cross-examination, that speeches and conversations were garbled and lopped off as required. That Lawrence police officers were called into discussion of the case with their superior officers and State Police Captains Proctor and Flynn; that one of them, Barry, had gone over the case with District Attorney Atwill; that another one—Gallagher—talked with Barry about the case and had consulted newspaper reports in regard to dates and events; that Gallagher was appointed to the police force through the exertions of a salaried employe of the American Woolen Co., and that at the time of said appointment he was in the employ of said company; that Mayor Scanlon suggested the organization of the strikers' committee in the City Hall speech of Jan. 14. (It was the intention of the prosecution to show that Ettor organized and dominated the strikers' committee in pursuance of the conspiracy to incite to violence, etc.); that Ettor was a factor for peace, having on Jan. 29 prevented a clash between the militia and a parade of strikers by projecting himself between the two and diverting the course of the latter; that the early morning street car smashing riots, which Ettor and Giovannitti are charged with having organized and incited, were permitted and tolerated by both the police and the militia, who looked on and took no steps to prevent them; that the rioting attending the Lawrence strike began on Jan. 12, before Ettor's arrival, as a result of the unheralded wage reduction following the inauguration of the 54 hours and not on Jan. 15, following Ettor's arrival, and as a result of his and Giovannitti's speeches; that the alleged voluntary conversation of Caruso with Lawrence Police Inspector Vose and State Police Captain Flynn, both of whom discussed the case with Barry, Benoit and others, shows that he was not at the scene of the murder of Annie Lo Pizzo on the night it was committed.

All this and much more that is favorable to the defense the three days' actual trial shows.

The sum total of the three days' trial confirms the original belief that the three men are the victims of a frame-up, because the Lawrence strike was a victory for the working class, whose beneficial results must be nullified by drastic measures.

During the days following, the prosecution's witnesses made many admissions fatal to its case. Officer Johnson admitted invading the rights of the peaceful crowd at Garden and Union streets on the night of the killing of Annie Lo Pizzo. He and other officers clubbed men and women on the back when moving. The police and militia got the crowd between them so that they couldn't move as ordered, and then clubbed and bayonetted them for not doing so. Militia Captain Colby testified that the crowd was moving about on his arrival, with no evidence of concerted action. The testimony of Officers Benoit and Marshall showed that the fatal shot had been fired at Benoit by a man who had a personal grudge against Benoit, and who took advantage of the troublous times to square accounts.

In general, the prosecution's witnesses did not inspire confidence and respect. Two of them, Special Officer Silba Moor and Sherman Detective Agency Operator La Corte, were completely discredited; court records were produced exposing them as criminals and ex-convicts. The Bencardo Brothers, Callahan detective agency operators, were self-exposed as shady characters, unworthy of belief and fearful of exposure. The commonwealth had not one witness from among the thousands of strikers and others familiar with events who had heard the alleged incendiary speeches or knew of the alleged conspiracy to procure the commission of murder. All of which was fatal to its case.

All that the prosecution lacked the defense possessed. Its witnesses were in striking contrast to those of the commonwealth. They brought an air of honesty and decency into the courtroom. The men, women and children of the mills went on the stand by the dozen to tell the same tale, to-wit: that Ettor had urged them "to stay away from Canal street, the police, militia and mills, and to put their hands in their pockets until the mill-owners came to them, as they could not weave cloth with a policeman's club or with a soldier's bayonet."

Pictures of IWW Memorial Day activities in Lawrence

Testimony was also given regarding the real nature of various statements made by Ettor. His "We'll keep the gunshops busy" was shown to be dependent on the city authorities granting strikers as well as scabs permits to carry weapons. This grant was not expected; it was requested as a method of protest and publicity against violence by the mill-owners' thugs. The reference to the French Revolution grew out of a report that the workers in Lawrence often had only black bread to eat. That "Lawrence will be an unhappy city, with no cars to stone," would be the case if the electrical workers struck, as they threatened to do; a fact which Ettor had in mind, as they had consulted him about it. Other statements that, wrenched from their context, appeared diabolical, were perfectly legitimate and sound when heard in their entirety. Other testimony showed Officer Benoit to be the killer of Annie Lo Pizzo.*)

Giovannitti was also shown to have instructed men in charge of parades to prevent disorder and to have personally berated some men who threw snow and ice at the militia. None heard him say that the strikers should "prowl around like wild animals in the night looking for the blood of the police," but he advised the very contrary. He himself had no recollection of such words and spurned them as repugnant to his intelligence and nature and to civilized man in general.

Try as District Attorney Attwill would, he could not succeed in trapping or discrediting any of the defense's witnesses.

The mill operatives were substantiated in their testimony by social investigators, clergymen, the governor's secretary, Dudley Holman, Max Mitchell, Fred Atteaux, Wm. Wood's friend, and Horace Wiggins, controller of the American Woolen Co., all of whom testified to Ettor's peaceful attitude and the open-and-above-board workings of the strike committee. Three witnesses—his landlord, his child's god-father and his wife—helped Caruso to establish a complete alibi; he was at home eating supper when Annie Lo Pizzo was alleged to have been shot by him. It was also shown that he had heard Ettor speak but once; then in English, which he did not understand. He had never heard Giovannitti speak at all. Caruso said he was not a member of the I. W. W., but would join as soon as he got out.

But the most important witnesses for the defense were Ettor and Giovannitti themselves. Ettor was on the stand two whole court days. His wonderful memory recalled every detail of his part in the strike and gave coherency to all the other testimony by the defense. In the case of both him­self and Giovannitti the examination revealed the social character of the issues before the court. At times Annie Lo Pizzo was entirely forgotten; ideas were discussed instead of persons; opinions were on trial instead of acts.

The subjects ranged from labor organization, as represented by the I. W. W. in contrast to the A. F. of L., to religion, economics, sociology, history, U. S. Constitution and government, American Revolution, Socialism, Anarchism, sabotage, political and industrial action, passive resistance, general strike and kindred matters. The district attorney offered in evidence Solidarity, the I. W. W. organ, and St. John's "The I. W. W. History, Methods and Structure," a pamphlet which he was compelled to read from cover to cover, advertisements and all. Haywood's "General Strike" and other documents were put in by the prosecution. A hand-bill advocating violence and bearing the names of Ettor, Giovannitti and Mazzerelli, was submitted and repudiated as a forgery, such as the evidence proved it to be. The defense put in "The Proceedings of the First I. W. W. Convention" and read therefrom the Chicago manifesto, the famous document which recites the social causes that produced the formation of the I. W. W. Society loomed up large in all this, while Annie Lo Pizzo was forgotten.

Ettor gave many definitions in his testimony. Said he:

The program of the industrialist is part of the general Socialist program. The Socialist political movement concerns itself with political matters; the industrial union movement with industrial matters. One is organized on the basis of industry and productive workers, the other according to ideas and political boundaries; the ultimate object is the same.

Ettor also declared that two principles guide labor; one is the theory of demolition, the other of construction, in the matter of property. In his opinion the industrial unionist offers the only solution of a peaceful nature for labor problems that has yet been devised.

Asked if he was an anarchist, Ettor answered, "No." Asked to define the difference between anarchy and industrial unionism, Ettor answered, "One is the philosophy of individualism, the other of collectivism." He said further, in answer to questions:

The anarchist looks upon social progress as emanating from the individual. The collectivist looks upon progress as a result of social efforts and experiences. The individualist regards all social changes from the standpoint of their effects on the individual; the collectivist for what they mean to the general community. Our idea and our program is to organize the workers in the same way that they are organized in producing wealth. Through the power and intelligence that is generated in the workers through solidarity there will naturally evolve a state of society where those who do the work will appropriate the product of their efforts. The A. F of L. organizes according to trades, irrespective of whether the workers are employed in the same industry or not. It accepts the present system as a finality. The I. W. W. groups them according to industries. It regards present society as one of the stages in social progress.

Again Ettor said, in answer to a question:

I look upon the I. W. W. as one of the agencies involved in the evolution and progress of industry and society. The I. W. W. aims to organize the workers on the industrial field, to train them in their unions and to develop them through their experiences to learn how to administer industry and manage affairs for themselves. In the ratio that the new society is generated in the shell of the old, naturally, the old society will gradually disappear and the new will take its place.

Ettor reaffirmed his conviction that only through the solidarity of labor within industry could society evolve in a peaceful manner. He believes industry will evolve industrial ideas and government.

The cross-examination of Ettor left him "master," as the headlines of the Salem News pro­claimed. His answers to the district attorney were direct and unflinching. For instance, Atwill asked:

"Did you, with all your study of history, especially of United States history, and with all your stock of general information, tell these strikers from abroad that this government is a government of, by and for capitalists?" To which Ettor replied: "I did; not in spite of my knowledge, but because of it."

Then Atwill would flare up with a "Mr. Ettor, did you not say so-and-so to the strikers then?" To which Ettor would reply, not the least intimidated, "Yes; and I say the same now."

Ettor, via his strike speeches, which he repeated in extensio, was enabled to get before the jury the story of the dynamite plot and all other matters excluded by the court.

Giovannitti was equally as courageous as Ettor; though perhaps even more soft-spoken. He used the district attorney's activity to illustrate how a man in a movement may be militant without necessarily being violent, and in other ways, more direct, complimented his persecutor. He was especially good in his definitions of direct action and sabotage. He defined direct action as the conscious action of workers themselves to secure gains directly from the capitalists without the intervention or aid of third parties. He illustrated by means of the eight-hour day put on the statute books by legislation only to remain unenforceable or to be declared unconstitutional; and that secured and established in the shop by the workers themselves.

Sabotage was defined by Giovannitti as the willful reduction of output or deterioration of goods by labor in accordance with the wages received.

"Sabotage," asserted Giovannitti, "is practiced, in its more comprehensive sense, more largely by capital than by labor."

But the district attorney objected; he only wanted to know Giovannitti's conception of the word; he was not interested in how the capitalists sabotaged society.

"The jury," said Giovannitti on another occasion under cross-examination, "might think sabot­age was dynamiting, which might be your definition, Mr. District Attorney, but it is not mine."

All the prisoners made an excellent impression in their own behalf.

In the rebuttal, when Mayor Scanlon was on the stand, this contract, exposing his shameful part in promoting disorder in Lawrence, was introduced in the case:

BOSTON, Jan. 17, 1912.

This contract, entered into between the City of Lawrence, Mass., through their Mayor and Board of Aldermen in the first part, and the Sherman Detective Agency of Boston, Mass., in the second part, is to commence at the time our operative reaches Lawrence to take up the work and is to extend for a period of seven days, with the privilege of renewal by the party of the first part under same articles of this contract.

The second party of the contract agrees to assign on the matter in question (namely, the Lawrence mill strike) an Italian speaking operative, able to take shorthand notes of either Italian or English conversations and capable of doing 'roping' if deemed advisable.

The party of the first part, in consideration of the services of the party of the second part, agrees to pay to them at the rate of eight dollars ($8) per day for each operative and the necessary disbursements incurred; said disbursements, however, not to exceed three dollars ($3) per day unless authorized in writing by the party of the first part, the disbursements to include car fares, telephones, meals and room hire when away from Boston, cash spent with subjects and any other incidental expense absolutely necessary in order to bring about the desired results.

Bills are to be rendered by the party of the second part weekly and to be paid by party of the first part within thirty days from date of bill.

SHERMAN DETECTIVE AGENCY,

(Signed)
(Signed)
Per John F. Sherman, Gen. Mgr.
MICHAEL A. SCANLON, Mayor.
CORNELIUS F. LYNCH, Alderman.
PAUL HANNAGAN, Alderman.
ROBERT S. MALONEY, Alderman.
 

 

 

 

 

 

This contract is self-condemnatory. "Roping" means to inveigle by means of incitement or provocation. In other words, the mayor of Lawrence upheld the law by hiring agents to lead others to break it in order to trap innocent persons. Detective La Carte, exposed in open court as a criminal and ex-convict, was employed under this infamous contract. Sherman had to sue for his dirty money. Scanlon evidently doesn't believe there is honor even among law-breakers.

With the testimony all in, the defense began to sum up. Ex-Judge Sisk made a purely legal analysis of the evidence against Caruso that was thorough, complete and able in every respect. He naturally laid most emphasis on the alibi established for his client by means of his luminous, elevated and masterly abilities. Mr. Peters made an address that would have delighted the believer in economic determinism. In his talk he showed how wealth influences conduct; how corporate wealth especially tends to make public officials, especially the police, subservient to corporations, with all their power and influence, and opposed to the laborers, who have only poverty and degradation; how this tendency makes public men over-zealous, unconsciously in their own interests, as against the interests of the poor and powerless. Mr. Peters was especially good in his declaration that "If the strikers had been actuated by violence they could have wiped Lawrence off the map." He said the wonder was, in view of the incompetency displayed by the police, not that there had been so much, but so little disorder. He argued that this spoke well for Ettor and Giovannitti. Mr. Peters called attention to the disinterested character and culture of his client, Giovannitti, and made a rousing appeal in the interests of justice and progress, all the time paying strict and minute attention to the evidence of the prosecution. He said the trial was a result of a conflict between capital and labor and should be so considered. Mr. Mahoney dwelt on the humanitarian motives of both Ettor and Giovannitti, especially of Ettor. He referred to his abilities as compared with his remuneration, and referred to the great impression professional contact with Ettor made on him; an impression of loftiness and idealism. Mr. Mahoney also made some references to the social character of the trial and the work of the I. W. W. He especially pointed out the conditions that surrounded the inception of the strike, together with Ettor's masterly efforts in handling the latter. And, as if to anticipate District Attorney Atwill, he made an appeal for free speech, free assemblage and free organization in the name of the flag and the glorious traditions of Massachusetts that was impressive, from a Fourth of July standpoint.

Taken all in all, it must be said that the three lawyers were able, conscientious, eloquent, but lacking in depth, grasp and courage. They knew not the basis of their own profession. They kept too near the present. They were not like Ferdinand Lasalle, who knew law, not only to practice it, but to make it an engine of progress, and who was not only a lawyer, but a revolutionizer of law conceptions and a forceful factor in the making of law, because of his stupendous grasp of the evolution and significance of law in the development of classes and society. They did not dwell primarily on the social character of the charges, and there they failed. But then they did well, despite it all. It remained for the defendants themselves to succeed where their attorneys had fallen short.

Right here let us take our hats off to Judge Quinn. He did one thing during the trial that was of great value; he permitted the defendants to speak for themselves, reviving an old custom to that end. Judge Quinn had ruled out offers of proof by the defense tending to show a counter-conspiracy to do the very things charged against the defendants; he prevented Ettor or Attorney Fred Moore from being heard when the prosecution had rested its case and when Ettor intended to let the case go to the jury on the merits of the prosecution; he gaged witnesses who could tell about the dynamite plant; he overruled objections palpably just to the defense, and otherwise revealed an obstinate prejudice against the defendants which manifested itself to the end. He only relented after District Attorney Atwill had summed up for the prosecution, when he allowed Ettor and Giovannitti to reply to him, each in an epoch-making speech. For this we thank Judge Quinn, though we condemn him for all else.

ATWILL TO THE JURY.

District Attorney Atwill's summing up was direct, incisive and able. As Ex-Judge Sisk said, "Harry surpassed himself." He first dealt with the case from the technical and then from the social standpoint. Though he handled the latter phase somewhat perversely, that is, in a reactionary rather than progressive spirit, and with an eye to victory rather than justice, he got nearer to the heart of the controversy than did his legal brethren on the opposing side. We will not give the district attorney's speech in full; Ettor's and Giovannitti's speeches both reiterate his arguments, while at the same time demolishing them. But we will give his conclusion—his peroration—as delivered, as follows:

They say that this labor organization is a revolutionary organization; that they are carrying on its ideals as a revolutionary organization; that their principles are revolutionary. I agree to that proposition. They say that they are going to carry it on separate and apart from political action. Then how can you have peaceful revolution unless it is political?

One of the foundation rocks upon which this government was started, the first proposition placed in the Constitution of Massachusetts by the patriots who had gone through the Revolutionary War—the men who had suffered, the men who had gone through every deprivation; their families had suffered—the thing that resounded as a result of Bunker Hill, Lexington, Concord, that representing the frozen feet at Valley Forge and the battle of Monmouth—what do we have as a result? The first thing put in the Constitution of Massachusetts as a foundation rock, not lost in the end, not lost in the middle, but the first thought of those men who had gone through deprivation is contained in the first article of the Bill of Rights of Massachusetts and it says that men have certain necessary essential and natural rights, among which may be reckoned the right of acquiring, possessing and pre-serving property. This thing cannot be taken away, according to their ideas; their property cannot be confiscated; that this country was established upon the theory that the individual, so long and so far as we could permit it, should have free opportunities so long as he did not interfere with the rest; that he had the right to preserve and protect his property; that he had the right to take care of his wife and his family; that the widow and the orphan and other people on this earth who were left without support by those who were the workers in their families should be protected when they were gone.

These men start with the proposition, "This is revolutionary; this is the thing we ordain—that we —only we—who are working in this or that industry have any rights therein. We will determine how much of it we will take; we will deter-mine when we will take it; we will determine whether or not we will assault it and break it down." That is the type of man who says that he is here helping Massachusetts in an ideal.

That Constitution, gentlemen, was not created by the Tory; it was not created by the coupon-cutting class. It was created by the plain, every-day, average citizen, who had his house and his little home, who fought the revolution that a new ideal might be established on this earth. He was not helped by the capitalist; he was not helped by the wealthy class; they all sailed away to the old country of England. And when this man comes here teaching the new men who come across from Southern Italy that the Constitution of Massachusetts was created by the capitalists and for the capitalists, he is teaching sedition and treason to the institutions of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. We have some ideals; we have got to sustain them; we have got to see that they are preserved. If we are to rearrange the distribution of property, the ownership of property, we will do it in an orderly manner through the law and through the Constitution and through the legislature. Massachusetts has had her troubles; Massachusetts has had her perplexities. We know that a changing civilization brings them on—ever changing and complex problems. But we know, too, that our people, without ideals, without aspirations, can change and meet those perplexing problems as they come without the intervention of the Haywoods of Colorado, the Ettors of California or the Giovannittis of Italy. This is the proposition we are confronted with. If what I say is true, if this organization came there; if this organization started on the passionate people in acts of violence and through their acts of violence they caused murder, we have got to meet it, and we have got to meet it courageously, like men. Because if we do not meet it, if we do not choke the proposition in its inception, it will go on to the end, and we will be met with the proposition whether in this Commonwealth we are to have a government of law and order under the Stars and Stripes or a government of law and order under the red flag. Isn't that true, gentlemen? Isn't this more than a struggle between capital and labor? It is a struggle between organized society, a struggle between the sovereignty of the State and the sovereignty of the mob. I for one prefer the sovereignty of the State and the sovereignty of law and order.

We have a grand old Commonwealth. As some one has said, "It will be grand so long as you do your duty and I do mine and the court does his." But when we falter, when Essex County falters in the march of progress, then indeed, the Commonwealth of Massachusetts will cease to be grand.

I have been referred to some lines on a monument erected to a famous statesman in the South, who brought the boys in blue and the boys in gray into one camp, which it seems to me is not inappropriate in this case. On Grady's monument are in-scribed these words:

Who saves his country saves all things,
And all things saved will bless him;
Who lets his country die lets all things die,
And all things, dying, curse him.

"Labor is Watching"

The prosecuting attorney's address was received with a due appreciation of the gravity of the issues involved. It was plain to be seen that his statements raised these issues out of the criminal court into the social arena. And there the defendants were both willing to have them decided, even though they suffered death in the meanwhile.

After a brief consultation between the defense and the court the latter announced his praiseworthy decision to allow the defendants to address the jury. With a few words of admonition to keep the argument to the testimony, the court gave the floor to Ettor.

ETTOR TO THE JURY.

It was an intensely dramatic moment when Ettor arose to address the jury. All necks were craned in his direction and all ears listened intently to his words. Ettor spoke eloquently and with dignity. He repeated himself in a desire to be understood, which was his one great blemish. Ettor struck the keynote of the prosecution in his opening words: "I have not been tried on my acts," he declared; "I have been tried here because of my social ideals.

Nothing can efface the fact that because of my political and social ideas I am brought here to trial. I am impelled to speak here because of the fact and nothing more.

The district attorney has argued that you were to draw certain inferences from what I said, because—not that I said it, but because I may have said it—because I held certain views. In other words, because I hold the view that all wealth is the product of labor and therefore should belong to labor, that it follows, according to his argument, that I am in favor of destroying property. I stated on the stand that I believe all the property that is social property—I haven't in mind, gentlemen of the jury, a tooth brush or pipes or anything of that kind—I have in mind machines; I have in mind railroads; I have in mind the things that are necessary to the world and that the world of labor produces and uses—all such property should belong to the world of labor. And I stated on the stand that if the working class, with a policy of violence, destroys any of those machines or any of that property when it comes into possession of its own it is that much less that it will have.

Ettor later on reverted several times to this position. In discussing St. John's pamphlet, for which the district attorney sought to make him responsible, regardless of his agreement or disagreement therewith, Ettor said:

Gentlemen, since my views in my organization have been brought into this argument, I want to state this: That my organization has made it a practice to allow men in the past to express their views as they understood them; the pamphlet is the result. But the pamphlet served its purpose in allowing my social views to be introduced in this case. Now, what are my social views? I have stated some of them. I do believe—I may be wrong, but, gentlemen, only history can pass judgment upon them. All wealth is the product of labor, and all wealth being the product of labor belongs to labor and to no one else. I know the district attorney is worried about what is going to happen to the little home or to the little savings of the working man. He knows that my social ideas are bigger than the proposition to take away the home of the operative who has saved fifty cents here and a dollar and seventy-five cents somewhere else. He knows that my social views have no relation to the little property owner, but my social views have a relation so for as society is concerned. A railroad is operated by the workers. It is made possible only because there are people living in this country. According to that argument, we insist that the railroad should belong to the people of this country and not to the railroad owners, who are mere coupon-clippers. And that principle applies to the textile industry, to the shoe industry, to every industry. It does not apply to the tooth brush or to the pipe nor to the little shanty the working man is able to erect by scraping and gouging somehow or other.

Again, referring to the views held in general by Giovannitti and himself, Ettor said:

We state plainly that we will give all that is in us that this present society may be changed, that the present rule of wage labor on one side producing all things and receiving only a part, and idle capitalists on the other producing nothing and receiving the most . . . [may be ended] . . . . we say that in the past we gave all that was in us so that the workers may rally to their own standard, that they may organize and through their solidarity, through their united efforts, they may, from time to time, step by step, get close together and finally emancipate themselves through their own efforts, that the mills and workshops of America may become the property of the workers of America and that the wealth produced in those workshops may be for the benefit of the workers of America. Those have been our views. If we are set at liberty those will still be our views, and those will be our actions.

Ettor also reflected the peculiar social character of the charges against himself and comrades in his historic references. Referring to the anti-foreign arguments of the district attorney, he reminded him of the part foreigners had played in the Revolutionary War. He named especially Kosciusko and Pulaski, "Two Polocks," to whom Longfellow had dedicated an immortal poem. This was also a part of the history and traditions of Massachusetts! But even better, in this respect, were his references to Christ and other martyrs of history:

I want to state further, gentlemen, that what-ever my social views are, as I stated before, they are what they are . . . . With all respect to you, gentlemen, and with all respect to everyone here, they cannot be tried in this court room. It has been tried before . . . . I want to know, does Mr. Atwill believe for a moment that, beginning with Spartacus, whose men were crucified for miles along the Appian Way, and following with Christ, who was adjudged an enemy of the Roman social order, and was put on the cross—does he believe for a moment that, followed by all the rest, that the cross, or the gallows, or the guillotine, ever settled an idea? It never did. If the idea can live it lives, because history adjudges it right. An idea constituting a social crime in one age becomes the very religion of humanity in the next. The social criminals of one age become the saints of the next.

Then Ettor proceeded to illustrate from "the history and traditions of Massachusetts." How, seventy years ago, the respectable mob, "not the mill mob, but the respectable mob, dragged the advocates of a new order through the streets of Boston . . . ." Now that the ideas of Phillips and Garrison are proven of social value, "the offspring of that same social mob rises and exclaims: 'The traditions of Massachusetts.'"

"Gentlemen," said Ettor, "the traditions of Massachusetts have been made by those who made them, and not by those who speak of them." Then he glorified anew, John Brown, "the criminal," of whom the nation's noblest and best, sang, two years after his "anti-social" deed:

John Brown's body lies a-moldering in the grave
But his soul goes marching on!"

"My ideas are what they are, gentlemen," said Ettor, courteously, but courageously, as he could afford to do with such social history back of him. "They might be indicted and you might believe as the District Attorney has suggested, that you can pass judgment on them and that you can choke them; but you can't. Ideas cannot be choked." Ettor reverted to this argument later on, as we shall see.

It is not to be inferred from the foregoing that Ettor sought to dodge legal issues behind a statement of social issues. He also met these fearlessly and frankly. His defense of the right of free speech was such as to meet with the approval of every public speaker and of all who appreciate the value of public speaking. Referring to his constitutional right to speak to whomever he pleases, Ettor said, very pointedly and appropriately: "I didn't understand when I read the constitution, I never understood when I went to school .... I become guilty of murdering my sister when I speak to strikers who were not born in this country. That is one of the counts." He admitted he made speeches, but insisted that he be judged by his complete speeches and not by distorted quotations. He pointed out the danger to public speakers from the latter course. He also declared that the district attorney had feared to bring to court all the newspaper men who had been stationed at Lawrence and heard him speak. He had only brought two or three—such as were personal enemies to him or had to testify so as to justify their own published reports. The district attorney was aware of the danger of the other course.

Ettor also denied, as claimed by the district attorney, that it was a matter of the Commonwealth defending itself. "It is simply that the capitalists of Massachusetts have taken human beings and reduced them down to so many appendages of machines." Theirs was the shame and the blot; theirs the defense.

As for the charge of inciting to murder, by innuendo, or by a smile suggesting a shot gun and murder, Ettor would leave that for the jury to decide. He went on:

I came here knowing the conditions of those men and women. It is true I had no relatives—no property, but I had interests that are dearer—I had brothers and sisters who called for me to come and give what aid I was able to give, and I did come. As I told you on the stand, I came with a definite purpose; I came with a determination that I would give all that I could, that I would offer all of my energy, my enthusiasm, my love, that I would sing to those workers that they may be able to obtain more bread. I told them that I knew what the situation was and that I knew from past experience how they had been outraged. I knew further in past troubles between labor and capital how each side behaved. I said then that whatever blood is spilled in this strike will be on the heads of the mill-owners. It was they who provoked this strike, because they refused to live up to the spirit of the law—because they schemed, connived and conspired in order that the law may have the very opposite effect from the intention of those who advocated it. What is the result? That the strike was to be discredited; dynamite is planted in the city of Lawrence—planted not by strikers.

Ettor declared the attempt to show that the parade of January 29 had not the best objects in the world had failed. And so had the street car smashing charge. He contended that evidence showed the smashing to be of the same character as the dynamite plant. Also that he made the statement after the shooting of Annie La Pizzo that he could prove that that was also a put-up job, as time would determine.

In this connection, Ettor called attention to the fact that the Mayor of Lawrence had publicly declared, "We will break this strike or we will break the strikers' heads." He wanted to know if only the strikers understand inciting speeches and if the police at Garden and Union Streets may not have taken the Mayor's statement as authority to act unlawfully?

Again, he asked, if it were unreasonable to believe that the mill-owners who had inveigled foreign labor to these shores, violated the spirit of the 54 hour law, planted dynamite and sent agent provocateurs among the strikers, would have any scruples, if their agents shot into a crowd, about placing the blame on strikers' shoulders?

He also referred to the Bencardo brothers—how they had followed him incessantly without result, and were compelled to lie about Giovannitti in order to earn their miserable pay. "Think of it," exclaimed Ettor, "young Bencardo and the elder Bencardo—the saviours of the traditions of Massachusetts, the upholders of law and order!"

Ettor concluded, referring to the social views of Giovannitti and himself, together with the charge against them:

If you believe that we should not go out with those views, then, gentlemen, I only ask one favor, and that is this—that you will place the responsibility full on us and say to the world that Joseph J. Ettor and Arturo Giovannitti, because of their social ideas, became murderers and murdered one of their own sister strikers. And you will, by your verdict, say plainly that we should die for it.

As I stated before, I have carried the flag; I carry it here today—gentlemen, the flag of liberty is here. I am willing to carry it just as long as it is necessary. But if you believe .... that I killed Anna La Pizzo, or that I turned a finger that Anna La Pizzo or any other human being should be killed, then I will stand up with head erect, gentlemen, with no apology to offer, no excuse to ask. I will accept your verdict and expect that you will say, "You have done what you did and now we have spoken." I expect that, if I have carried the flag along, if I have raised my voice, if I have bared my breast against the opposition, that I have done it long enough, and I want to plead with you that, if I am guilty, I want to pay the full price—full price; no half-way measure; the full price.

Gentlemen, those are my views, those are my feelings, I shall go forward with that one thought in my mind and one satisfaction in my heart, that at the last moment I did pronounce to the world my views, and that I did announce that my determination is to work for the principles that I hold dear. If I am allowed to work for them I will, and you, gentlemen, will be thankful. If not—no idea was ever choked, it can't be choked, and this idea will not be choked. On the day that I go to my death there will be more men and women who will ask questions—millions of men and women will know and they will have a right to argue that my social ideals had as much the effect of determining your verdict as the facts, and more so in this case.

Gentlemen, as I stated before, I ask for nothing but justice in this matter; that is all. And I believe that in asking that I am not asking anything against what the district attorney has called "the ideals and the traditions of Massachusetts." Massachusetts refused to give the apostles of abolition to the rule of the cotton kings of the South. It refused to allow their blood to act as so much balm to the wounds of the cotton planters. I ask you now, are twelve men in this county in Massachusetts going to offer blood now in order that the wounds that the mill-owners of Lawrence suffered because of the strike may be assuaged?

Gentlemen, it is up to you. I ask for no favor; I only ask for justice. And that is all my comrade, Giovannitti, asks, and that is all my comrade, Caruso, asks.

I thank you.

When Ettor ended, the spectators were visibly affected. It was evident that the speech had made a profound impression. A slight pause, and then there was a stir that broke the tension. There was a feeling in the air as if applause were about to burst out, the rules of the court permitting. As it was, however, all observed a decorous but sympathetic restraint. All were sober and hushed.

Giovannitti followed close on Ettor, in a passionate and tumultuous outburst; that was, nevertheless, more cogent and scholarly than was the speech of his comrade. Giovannitti's great merit consists in his emphasis on the ethical side of the question involved in the trial, and in his unselfish appeal in behalf of Caruso. Giovannitti spoke, in part, as follows:

GIOVANNITTI TO THE JURY.

Mr. Foreman and Gentlemen of the Jury:—It is the first time in my life that I speak publicly in your wonderful language, and the most solemn moment in my life. I know not if I will go to the end of my remarks. The district attorney and the other gentlemen here who are used to measure all human emotions with the yardstick may not understand the tumult that is going on in my soul in this moment. But my friends and my comrades before me, these gentlemen here who have been with me for the last seven or eight months, know exactly, and if my words will fail before I reach the end of this short statement to you, it will be because of the superabundance of sentiments that are flooding to my heart

We had come to Lawrence because we were prompted by something higher and loftier than what the district attorney or any other man in this presence here may understand and realize. Were I not afraid that I was being somewhat sacrilegious, I would say that to go and investigate into the motives that prompted and actuated us to go into Lawrence would be the same as to inquire, why did the Saviour come to earth, or why, as my friend said, was Lloyd Garrison in this very commonwealth, in the city of Boston, dragged through the streets with a rope around his neck? Why did all the other great men and masters of thought—why did they go to preach this new gospel of fraternity and brotherhood? It were well—it is well—to inquire into the acts of men; it is just that truth should be ascertained. It is right that the criminal should be brought before the bar of justice, but one side alone of our story has been told here Only the method and only the tactics. But what about, I say, the ethical part of this question? What about the human and humane parts of our ideas? What about the grand condition of tomorrow as we see it, and as we foretell it now to the workers at large, here in this same cage where the felon has sat, in this same cage where the drunkard, where the prostitute, where the hired assassin has been? What about the ethical side of that? What about the better and nobler humanity where there shall be no more slaves, where no man will be obliged to go on strike in order to obtain fifty cents a week more, where children will not have to starve any more, where women no more will have to go and prostitute themselves, let me say, even if there are women in this court room here, because the truth must out at the end; where at last there will not be any more slaves, any more masters, but just one great family of friends and brothers.

It may be, gentlemen of the jury, that you do not believe in that. It may be that we are dreamers; it may be that we are fanatics, Mr. District Attorney. We are fanatics. But yet so was a fanatic Socrates, who instead of acknowledging the philosophy of the aristocrats of Athens, preferred to drink the poison. And so was a fanatic the Saviour Jesus Christ, who instead of acknowledging that Pilate, or that Tiberius was emperor of Rome, and instead of acknowledging his submission to all the rules of the time and all the priestcraft of the time, preferred the cross between two thieves. And so were all the philosophers and all the dreamers and all the scholars of the middle ages who preferred to be buried alive by one of these very same churches which you reproach me now of having said that no one of our membership should belong to.

I ask the district attorney, who speaks about the New England tradition, what he means by that —if he means the New England traditions of this same town, where they used to burn the witches at the stake, or if he means the New England traditions of those men who refused to be any longer under the iron heel of the British aristocracy and dumped the tea into Boston Harbor and fired the first musket that was announcing to the world for the first time that a new era had been established—that from then on no more kingcraft, no more monarchy, no more kingship would be allowed, but a new people, a new theory, a new principle, a new brotherhood would arise out of the ruin and the wreckage of the past? You answer that, and if you believe that human progress is a thing that cannot be stopped and cannot be checked, .... do not, gentlemen of the jury, believe that Mr. Atwill, standing in front of you with upraised hands, will check this mighty flow of this wonderful working class of the world—its myriads and myriads of men and women, the flower of the land, who are rushing forward towards this destined goal of ours. He is not the one who is going to strangle this new Hercules of the world of industrial workers, or rather, the Industrial Workers of the World, in its cradle. It is not your verdict that will stem—or rather, it is not your verdict that will put a dam before this mighty onrush of waves that go forward. It is not the little insignificant, cheap life of Arturo Giovannitti offered in holocaust to warm the hearts of the millionaire manufacturers of this town that is going to stop Socialism from being the next dominator of the earth. No! No!

If there was any violence in Lawrence it was not Joe Ettor's fault; it was not my fault. If you must go back to the origin of all the trouble, gentlemen of the jury, you will find that the origin and the reason was the wage system. It was the infamous rule of domination of one man by another man. It was the same principle that existed forty years ago, before your great martyred president, Abraham Lincoln, by an illegal act, which was the Proclamation of Emancipation—a thing which was beyond his powers as the Constitution of the United, States expressed them—put an end to it. I say it is the same principle now, the principle that made a man at that time a chattel slave, a soulless human being, a thing that could be bought and bartered and sold, and which now, having changed the term, makes the same man—but a white man—the slave of the machine . . . . Because the man that owns the tool wherewith an-other man lives, that man who owns the factory where this man wants to go to work—that man owns and controls his mind, his body, his heart and his soul.

Gentlemen of the jury, you know that I am not a trained man in speaking to you, because it is the first time I speak in your language. You know, gentlemen, if you think that there has ever been a spark of malice in my heart, that I ever said others should break heads and prowl around and look for blood—if you believe that, that I ever could have said such a thing, not only on the 29th of January, but since the first day I began to realize that I was living and conscious of my intellectual and moral powers—then send me to the chair, because it is right and it is just; then send my comrade to the chair because it is right and it is just. But I want to plead for another man. Whatever you do, for heaven's sake take the case of this man at heart [pointing at the defendant Caruso]. If Anna Lo Pizzo has been killed and you think she has been killed through our influence, consider that we alone are responsible for it. Say that it is good that we ought to he convicted, regardless of who killed Anna Lo Pizzo, if we uttered those words. But consider this poor man and his wife, his child; this man who does not know just now in this moment why he is here—who keeps on asking me, "Why didn't they tell the truth? What have I done? Why am I here?" It may be I am appealing to your hearts, not to your intelligence, but I am willing to take all the responsibility.

Gentlemen of the jury, I have finished. I don't want to pose to you as a hero, I don't want to pose as a martyr. No, life is dearer to me than it is probably to a good many others. But I say this, that there is something dearer and nobler and holier and grander, something I could never come to terms with, and that is my conscience, and that is my loyalty to my class and to my comrades who have come here in this room, and to the working class of the world, who have contributed with a splendid hand, penny by penny, to my defense, and who have all over the world seen that no injustice and no wrong was done to me. Therefore, I say, weigh both sides and then judge. And if it be, gentlemen of the jury, that your judgment shall be such that this gate will be opened and we shall pass out of it and go back into the sunlit world, then let me assure you what you are doing. Let me tell you that the first strike that breaks again in this Commonwealth or any other place in America where the work and the help and the intelligence of Joseph J. Ettor and Arturo Giovannitti will be needed and necessary, there we shall go again, regardless of any fear and of any threat. We shall return again to our humble efforts, obscure, unknown, misunderstood soldiers of this mighty army of the working class of the world, which, out of the shadows and the darkness of the past, is striving towards the destined goal, which is the emancipation of human kind, which is the establishment of love and brotherhood and justice for every man and every woman on this earth. And on the other hand, if your verdict shall be the contrary, if it be that we who are so worthless as not to deserve neither the infamy nor the glory of the gallows—if it be that these hearts of ours must be stilled on the same death chair and by the same current of fire that has destroyed the life of the wife murderer and the patricide and the parricide, then I say, gentlemen of the jury, that tomorrow we shall pass into a greater judgment, that to-morrow we shall pass from your presence, where history shall give its last word to us.

Whichever way you judge, gentlemen of the jury, I thank you.*)

The conclusion of this masterful address, found many of the jury in tears, and not a few auditors were sobbing. Had the jury been polled then and there, it is safe to say that they would have voted to release the prisoners without leaving their seats. Judge Quinn quickly adjourned court, after announcing that he would address the jury on the following Monday. At adjournment, many friends gathered about the cage, to shake the prisoners by the hands and to congratulate Ettor and Giovannitti on their oratory and courage. And to express belief in their innocence and liberation, once more; and with more conviction than ever before. Victory was now assured!

"Honoring the I. W. W."

The legal battle was, at this stage, practically won. Every one in the court felt certain of the outcome. When on the following Tuesday—November 23rd—the jury returned a verdict of "not guilty," they but reflected popular opinion. The verdict was well received. The liberated trio was given a reception such as Salem will not long forget. They were embraced and kissed by men and women alike; and when outside, given a public ovation that blocked the streets for some distance. They retired to a hall, where speeches were made, and all were happy once more. It is again worth noting that Judge Quinn did not thank the jury for their services. One of them, Larsen, said it was impossible to believe the state's witnesses, they were so lacking in character; while those of the defense were honest and clean-cut.

In Lawrence, the verdict was greeted with delight. The old strike veterans fell into each other's arms and danced with glee. The stigma of crime had been removed from labor. Once more was honest toil vindicated; and its vicious exploiters defeated. When Ettor returned to the city, immense receptions greeted him. As in Salem, the streets were jammed for blocks. On Thanksgiving Day, over 5,000 persons stood on "The Lots" and listened to him for two and a half hours in a snow-storm. Such was the enthusiasm to hear and see him once more.

Big meetings greeted Ettor in New York also. At these he urged the working class to unite to save itself as it had united to save him.

Ettor, in his Lawrence speech, attributed his liberation, not to the justice of the capitalist courts, but to the working class, whose support made injustice impossible. For this he was roundly condemned by the press, which claimed that he appealed to "class hatred." The New York World, for instance, claimed he still had to learn his lesson; thereby tacitly admitting that he was originally arrested not for crime, but to punish him in order to teach him the danger of attacking capitalism in the interests of the workers.

Since their release, many gifts have been showered on Ettor; while Giovannitti has gained additional renown as a poet and orator.

An aftermath of the great victory in Salem was the nolle prossing, in January, 1913, by District Attorney Atwill, of the conspiracy charges against Wm. D. Haywood, Wm. E. Trautman, Wm. Yates, Thomas Holliday, James P. Thompson, Guido Mazerreli, Edmondo Rossinni and Ettor Gianinni. These charges grew out of the Lawrence strike, and were dependent for success on the conviction of Ettor, Giovannitti and Caruso. With the release of the latter, they fell to the ground, incapable of proof. Thus, the Salem victory of the workers was a two-fold victory over "law and order," that is, capitalist dynamiters and crime-promoting politicians.

It was the fitting finale to the first great assertion of the workers in behalf of industrial democracy witnessed in this country, May it not be the last!

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