As Moore headed for Boston he was certain it would be a similar story with Sacco and Vanzetti, and the more he reflected on the ramifications of the South Braintree crime the more convinced he became that this backwater New England affair could be his big case, the culmination of his career. Eugene Lyons, the young left-wing labor journalist who had been with Moore in Oklahoma and who later followed him to Massachusetts to work for the Defense Committee, was awed by the lawyer’s dexterity. Moore, he wrote long afterward, _was at heart an artist. Instinctively he recognized the materials of a world issue in what appeared to others a routine matter. A socialist newspaperman spent a few days in Boston and returned to New York to report that “there’s no story in it ... just a couple of wops in a jam.” Not one of the members of the defense committee formed immediately after the men’s arrest suspected that the affair was anything larger than it seemed. When the case grew into a historical tussle, these men were utterly bewildered. But Moore saw its magnitude from the first. His legal tactics have been the subject of dispute and recrimination. I think that there is some color of truth, indeed, to the charge that he sometimes subordinated the literal needs of legalistic procedure to the larger needs of the case as a symbol of the class struggle. If he had not done so, Sacco and Vanzetti would have died six years earlier, without the solace of martyrdom._ _With the deliberation of a composer evolving the details of a symphony which he senses in its rounded entirety, Moore proceeded to clarify and deepen the elements implicit in the case._ Arriving in Boston, Moore installed himself at 5 Rollins Place, a small four-story brick house in a cul-de-sac of Beacon Hill in that no-man’s land where proper Boston tapers off into the improper. The house, masked by a wooden porch with Greek-revival columns, and the brick-paved roadway, too narrow for any vehicle, seemed to suggest that whoever might live there would be gone tomorrow, a feeling that harmonized with Moore’s personality. Shortly after moving in, Moore married Lola Darroch, the handsome young woman who had been with him during the Krieger trial. Their marriage lasted officially a little over a year, though unofficially it was concluded much sooner when Lola was supplanted by a Lithuanian stenographer. In the environment this seemed rational enough. Wherever Moore went in his travels he pursued his weakness, which he considered a need, for pretty young women.