WHEN the heavy clang of iron gates puts an end to the orgiastic exploitation by the press of a macabre criminal career and conviction, a vindicated public forgets abruptly the object of its morbid attention, and, satisfied, turns avidly to others. Before incarceration the audacious criminal is a romantic figure, afterwards he is a convict, a marked man,--one to be despised, and feared, and rejected. Behind the impenetrable branding gray of prison walls dwells a race apart, whose unnatural existence is seldom probed, in whom society's only interest is the enforcement of its due. But in the last few years an advocate has appeared for the "forgotten race," a man whose penetration, squareness, and sincere faith in humankind have won respect and obedience within, attention and reputation without penitentiary confines. For nearly thirteen years Lewis E. Lawes has been warden of Sing Sing prison, and during that period intermittent magazine articles have revealed a growing philosophy. In his first book, "20,000 Years in Sing Sing," he utters for the first time what may be regarded as a rough draft of the completed product of his meditations.

Although a sketchy summary of years of prison experiences, the book may be divided clearly into three sections. The first hundred pages deal graphically with the reactions of the rookie guard to the silent system in force at Clinton and Auburn, and with his promotion and outstanding success as overseer at the New York City Reformatory. In these early days, Lawes was quick to see the faults of a system which, enforcing obedience by oppressive silence and solitary confinement, produced only curses and sent men shuffling, "lockstepping their way back to life." Then in rapid anecdotal succession follows the fascinating story of Lawes, the builder of men, placed in a post where he could exercise his theories of rehabilitation. In this second section of the book, there passes before the reader a concise, clear view of Sing Sing today. And in the description of his $3,000,000 plant one discovers the secret of Warden Lawes's success. Mechanical details of organization are duly attended to, but predominant throughout is the personal, the human element. In focusing his attention, Lawes turns almost involuntarily from administration to the individual, the unhappy "con," fighting his way back to decent society. Consequently one is not surprised when the third section of the work unrolls to find therein a passionately sincere plea for more intelligent treatment of prisoners.

It is these last few pages of the work that merit closest attention. In them is concentrated the opinions of a man, who, after long association with criminals, has not lost faith in humankind, who remains firm and steady in his beliefs while all is hysteria about him. Lawes is ardently opposed to capital punishment; he is an equally strong advocate of indeterminate sentences, with the length dependent on the individual rather than on the crime. All this has been said before, but usually in an atmosphere of sentimentality which disgusts surfeited auditors. Whatever else one may say of Lawes, he is not a sentimentalist; he has something new to say, and his arguments ring forth hard and clear, saturated with common sense, buttressed by specific experience.

Mechanically, "20,000 Years in Sing Sing" is well done. In a lesser man, one would be induced to charge that the book was little more than an excuse to string together, with as much continuity as possible, numerous interesting stories. But Lawes reveals himself the master of a racy, journalistic style, which admits gracefully the predominance of illustration by anecdote. The one fault of the book is small but glaring; the ghoulishly sensational description of an electrocution, inserted as a prologue, is neither necessary nor illuminating. One prefers to believe that it can be blamed on the publishers. Aside from this feature, the book is entertaining and gripping throughout. No reader will seriously question Warden Lawes's admirable fitness for his position. J. U. M.

To Morris Ryskind, co-author with George Kaufman of the 1931 Pulitzer Prize play "Of Thee I Sing," goes the credit for having dug up "The Diary of an Ex-President" which Minton, Balch & Company recently released. It is the private diary of former President John P. Wintergreen and was discovered by Mr. Ryskind in the new subway on Eighth Avenue. Mr. Wintergreen will be remembered as the President who was elected on a Platform of Love in "Of Thee I Sing."