To Moore the Defense Committee seemed to have become more and more impotent. For lack of funds he had had to give up his Pemberton Square office and work from the crowded confusion of Rollins Place. He, who liked good clothes, was now too hard up to buy a suit off the gaspipe racks at Raymond’s. His cuffs had frayed, the seat of his trousers showed patches. If he was to continue with the case, his case—nd the “if” was beginning to take shape in his mind—he did not want to have his efforts diverted any longer by fund-raising and publicity and stubborn anarchists. Now was the time for him to bring his own friends together—those he had personally interested in the fate of the two obscure Italians—in a common unimpeded effort.

Early in April 1924, Moore arranged a meeting at Tremont Temple to organize the New Trial League, with the support of Mrs. Evans, Mrs. Anna Hallowell Davis (who directed the Garland Fund’s legal assistance for radicals), John Van Vaerenewyck of the Cigar Makers’ Union, and Alice Stone Blackwell. Alice Blackwell, who was to become Vanzetti’s most frequent and voluminous correspondent, whom he would address as Comrade, was the daughter of Lucy Stone, the pioneer women’s-rights crusader. Old beyond her sixty-seven years, wrinkled and determined, she followed in the tradition of the previous century’s indomitable female eccentrics. She belonged to the International League for Peace and Freedom, the Women’s Municipal League, and would later lend her name to the Communist-directed International Labor Defense. A member of the belligerently liberal Twentieth Century Club, she used to carry her lunch there in a brown paper bag and eat it in the library, holding the bag close to her face to avoid spilling any crumbs. It was understood that she was to nap undisturbed in a corner afterward.

Moore chose to remain in the background of the new organization. John Codman of the New England Civil Liberties Committee was appointed treasurer. Professor Guadagni, Albert Carpenter, and Harry Canter, secretary of the Communist Party of Boston, accepted appointment on the editorial board. The board got out its one bulletin in May and published a pamphlet containing Eugene Lyons’ translation of Vanzetti’s “The Story of a Proletarian Life.”

From the New Trial League’s office Moore proceeded to raise money and make plans independently of the Defense Committee. Felicani questioned Moore’s judgment rather than his honesty, but other members of the Defense Committee were unyielding in their resentment of this independent step. Lola Darroch, no doubt glad to escape the ambivalences of Rollins Place, went to New York to raise funds. Much to the resentment of the anarchists, more money began to flow into the New Trial League’s Tremont Street office than to the Hanover Street headquarters. But the league was only an expedient, without roots. Even the conciliatory Felicani realized the impossibility of the dual situation. Scarcely had the league been formed than it began to disintegrate. With the intransigent Lopez gone—he had been deported at last in February 1924—Codman and Mrs. Evans were willing to discuss merging with the committee. Only Moore remained purblind in his good intentions.

Since his return to the Dedham jail Sacco had grown increasingly bitter, and though his sanity was no longer in question he became so dominated by feelings of resentment and persecution that he refused to see Mrs. Evans and his other American visitors. He even turned his back on Mrs. Jack, who had been coming weekly during the winter to give him English lessons. Vanzetti, in Charlestown, was much distressed by the news and sent Mrs. Jack a letter of apology assuring her that Sacco’s action was caused not by “adverse feelings, sentiments or thought” but by his misfortune. “And, oh, how worth of sympathy and forgiveness the poor Nick is, even in his herrors,” he wrote commiseratingly.

Sacco found the ultimate outlet to his anger in Moore and the New Trial League. The latter had sent him several pamphlets and flyers from the new organization. Reading them, Sacco—as on that July day in court three years before—erupted. He had never liked the Westerner, but this was the last straw. On August 18 he spent the afternoon in his cell penning a letter that was a distillation of his bitterness.

Sir:—Saturday I received your letter with enclose the post card that Mrs. Mateola Robbins sent to me—and the little pamphlet that you use to send to me it just to insult my soul. Yes, it is true, because you would not forget when you came here two or three times between last month with a groups people—that you know that I did not like to see them any more; but you broad them just seem to make my soul feel just sad as it could be. And I can see how clever and cynic you are, because after all my protest, after I have been chase you and all yours philanthropist Friends, you are still continue the infamous speculation on the shoulder of Sacco-Vanzetti case. So this morning before these things going any more long, I thought to send you these few line to advise you and all yours philanthropist Friends of the “New Trial League Committee” not to print any more these letters with my picture and name on, and to be sure to take my name out if they should print any more of these little pamphlets, because you and yours philanthropist has been use it from last three years like a instrument of infamous speculation. It is Sim thing to carry any man insane or tuberculous when I thing that after all my protest to have my case finish you and all yours legione of friends still play the infame game. But, I would like to know if yours all are the boss of my life! I would like to know who his this men that ar abuse to take all the authority to do every thing that he does feel like without my responsiblity, and carry my case always more long, against all my wish. I would like to know who his this—generous—man!! Mr.—Moore—! I am telling you that you goin to stop this dirty game! Your heare me? I mean every them word I said here, because I do not want have anything to do any more with “New Trail League Committee,” because it does repugnant my coscience.

Maney time you have been deluder and abuse on weakness of my comrades good faith, but I want you to stop no and if you please get out of my case, because you know that you are the obstacle of the case; and say! I been told you that from last May twenty fifth—that was the last time you came see me, and with you came comrade Felicani and the Proffess Guadagni. Do you remember? Well, from that day I told you to get out of my case, and you promised me that you was goin to get out, but my—dear—Mr. Moore! I see that you are still in my case, and you are still continued to play your famous gam. Of course it is pretty hard to refuse a such sweet pay that as been come to you right long—in—this big—game. It is no true what I said? If it is not the truth, why did you not finish my case then? Another word, if this was not the truth you would quit this job for long time. It has been past one year last June when you and Mr. Grilla from New York came to see me into Bridgewater Hospital and that day between you and I we had another fight—and you will remember when I told you this Mr. Moore! I want you to finish my case and I do not want to have anything to do with this politics in my case because it does repugnant my conscience—and you answer to me was this: Nick, if you don’t want, Vanzetti does want! Do you remember when you said that? Well, do you think I believe you when you said that to me? No, because I know that you are the one that brings in always in these mud in Sacco-Vanzetti case. Otherwise, how I could believe you when you been deluder me maney times with your false promise? Well—I anyhow, wherever you do if you do not intent to get out of my case, remember this, that per September I want my case finish. But remember that we are right near September now and I don’t see anything and any move yet. So tell me please, why you waiting now for? Do you wait till I hang myself. That’s what you wish? Lett me tai you right now don’t be illuse yourself because I would not be suprise if somebody will find you some morning hang on lamp-post.

Your implacable enemy, now and forever,
Nick Sacco