Word: mobbed
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...George Parke, a retired printer in Farmhaven, Miss., sat down to write a piece of all-but-forgotten history. In 1,628 words, he told a closely detailed story of the New Orleans Mafia lynching of 1891. A mob, led by a band of riflemen, broke into jail and murdered eleven Italians, some of whom had been tried and acquitted in the death of New Orleans' police chief. The lynching had become an international incident: U.S. and Italian relations were broken off. When Parke finished his story, he sent it off to TIME's supplement, LETTERS, where...
...Casablanca, violence begets violence. Crowds of young Europeans stormed through the streets, smashing native shops, besieging the offices of the liberal French-owned newspaper Maroc-Presse, tearing down Moroccan flags. At midnight, a mob smashed into the apartment of Lawyer Jean-Charles Legrand, a French lawyer who has defended Moroccan terrorists in court. Legrand was waiting for them, revolver in hand. For an hour he held them off, killing one young attacker and wounding two others...
...equivalent of the South's "poor white," who hate the native Moroccans with a fury based on economic insecurity. In the heart of the city, rioters lynched one Moroccan, shot down two others with submachine guns, and clubbed the bodies with gun butts. Yelling "Death to Grandval," one mob, thousands strong, tried to storm the city's office buildings, was driven back only by fire hoses and tear gas. The French police made little attempt to discipline the mob. "They're only kids. They don't mean any harm," said one police official...
...number of hefty Amazons armed with Tommy guns, and the general attitude, "ask no questions and expect no answers." Headed westward again, Nehru stopped off at Leningrad. There, soon after his arrival, an Indian correspondent wearing a Gandhi cap was mistaken for Nehru and overwhelmed by a flower-brandishing mob who almost trampled him to death trying to kiss him. But there were no Indian newsmen around when Nehru got his ace view of the week: a peek at a Soviet atomic center...
When Isaac Emanuelovich Babel was ten years old, he saw his father kneel in the mud before a mounted Cossack captain and beg for help while an Odessa mob looted and wrecked the family store. "At your service," the officer said, touched his lemon-yellow chamois glove to his cap, and rode off passionlessly, "not looking right or left . . . as though through a mountain pass, where one can only look ahead." Torn with pity and terror for his father, the boy was also stirred by a sneaking admiration for the Cossack, with his instinctive animal grace and his life...