Word: motel
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...rule out the possibility that the shooting had a racist motivation. Indeed, Coleman told police that while she and Jordan were returning to "ELLS the Marriott Inn, three white youths in a car had taunted them. Police doubted that the youths had time enough to race to the motel and shoot Jordan...
...urgent but hardly incendiary. Said he: "The economy is in trouble, democracy is in trouble and we seem lost at sea without a leader." After the speech, Jordan lingered for a couple of hours with about 100 Urban League members in the Piper's Glen Room at the motel. He smoked a cigar, nibbled on hors d'oeuvres and talked with well-wishers about the civil rights struggles of the past and his hopes for the future. At about midnight, he left with Martha Coleman. Married and divorced four times, she is a supervisor for the local International...
Only one shot was heard by witnesses. Motel Guest Patrick Gillespie of Chicago thought an M-80 grenade had exploded. "It rose me right up out of my bed," he said. Mrs. Coleman described the noise as a "thud which sounded like a stone hitting the windshield." This may have been the sound of Jordan slumping against the car. "Help me, I've been shot!" he cried. When she saw him wounded and bleeding, she dashed inside the motel and asked the desk clerk to summon police and an ambulance. Then she called her lawyer...
Back at the plant's main gate, on Rte 1 next to the Hawaiian Garden Motel, other demonstrators attempt a "blockade." For the most part, these are the people who think fence-cutting is too militant. From nearby woods they have gathered limbs and rusting metal appliances, which they pile neatly in front of the gate, offerings to the god of civil disobedience. True to their part of the script, police come out from behind the gate, from a cordon, and let bulldozers push debris inside the fence, where dumptrucks haul it away. Across the street, Seabrook police--small town...
...evening, defendants out on bail resume normal routines as best they can. Anita Musick, 38, drives back to the East Bay to the El Portal Motel. "This is the way racketeers live," she says of the shab by two rooms with kitchen and bath unit. Clothes for court hang on the shower rod. Her biggest mistake seems to have been falling in love with a succession of heavy-duty Hell's Angels and being the kind of woman who will help anyone, any time, no matter what he has done. "The night of the arrest," she says...