Word: mobbing
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Negro Leader Stanley Branche stood on a box at a street corner, used a bullhorn to plead: "Please go home. Please go home. This is doing us no good." The mob answered with hoots, threw stones, bricks and bottles at him, hit him in the leg. Philadelphia N.A.A.C.P. President Cecil Moore shouted: "Come out of that store! Quit looting that store!" A woman climbed atop an overturned refrigerator to yell: "Black man, do you hear me? Cecil has nothing to tell you. I'm a black woman. Let them take...
Prepared for More. Every cop in the city was ordered to duty, some 1,400 of them sent into the riot area. Under strict orders not to shoot or to use riot trained police dogs, they moved against the mob with billy clubs. Some 150 people, including 35 police, were injured. About 165 rioters were arrested...
...Soon the story spread through Dixmoor and into the neighboring town of Harvey. A crowd of Negroes gathered in a parking lot across the street from LaPota's shop, chanting to the accompaniment of bongos, "Big Mike must go!" For hours, Negro rabble-rousers harangued the mob with inflammatory speeches. Someone threw a rock through the closed liquor store's window, and the mob followed, snatching up bottles. Dixmoor's ten-man police force called for help...
...time state police, sheriff's officers and cops from neighboring communities arrived, the mob had swelled to 1,000 and the riot was in full swing. Negroes swarmed into a main street, smashing windows and headlights of passing cars. A white man, Clarence Stermer, 59, suffered a heart attack when his car was bombarded with rocks. For four hours lawmen used tear gas and high-pressure fire hoses to sweep back the mob. Next night Molotov cocktails arced out of the darkness onto the roof of La-Pota's store, setting it afire-and the riot erupted again...
...wears Jack Kennedy's dog tag (a gift from Jacqueline Kennedy), but rarely wears a pectoral cross: "I have crosses enough without carrying one adorned with jewels." Dressed in his red cardinal's robes-he calls them his "glad rags"-he will march up to a mob of children at a parochial school and say: "How are you, children? It's Santa Glaus!" When he welcomes visitors to his stately residence on Commonwealth Avenue in suburban Brighton, he waves a hand at the rich furnishings and cracks: "What do you think of the joint?" Cushing loves...