Word: shotgunned
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...unaware of or are unwilling to admit is that the system of oppression under which the black man in this country exists was established by and is maintained through the threat and actuality of physical violence. The means of keeping the black man in "his place" are varied: lynching, shotgun blasts, quiet murders, police brutality, and capital punishment. Every Negro in the South, as John Dollard once wrote, is under a kid of sentence of death. In Monroe, N.C. Robert F. Williams advocated meeting this white system of terror with Negro self-defense. What was the result? Federal intervention...
James Meredith knows what James Baldwin is writing about. Off for the holidays from the University of Mississippi campus, where he still suffers constant harassment from white students, Meredith last week visited Chicago-and scarcely had he arrived when he learned that several shotgun blasts had been fired at his father's home in Kosciusko, Miss...
Hazard's hopeless people, in the tradition of the desperate, have recently resorted to violence. At least two have been seriously wounded by shotgun blasts. Mine tipples have been dynamited or riddled with rifle fire. Railroad bridges were blown up. In the past three months, says a veteran mine operator. Hazard has experienced "the worst violence I've ever seen in the coal fields." The violence is not directed against management; neither is it against the United Mine Workers union...
Died. Irene Pearl Smith Cliett, 63, shotgun-brandishing Texas farmer who, when federal courts ruled against her in a 1958 title fight for ownership of the farm, seceded her 705-acre spread from the Union and applied to the United Nations for membership; of cancer; in Glendale, Calif. Though all her efforts came to nought, Irene's finest hour was sending her nubile, 19-year-old daughter Angeline to the White House in 1958 to seek justice, with a rusty, 9-ft. chain padlocked around her neck. The key was mailed to President Eisenhower, who ordered secret servicemen...
...shadows he saw, he made his choice. He phoned an aged and loyal pal in New York. "Get my obituary ready." he said. Next morning, his wife Ruth, returning from an errand, saw him on the porch of the cabin where he kept his books and his shotgun. Would he like a lift to the main house? "No," said Stanley Walker. "You come back a little later." When he was alone, he put the muzzle of the shotgun in his mouth and pulled the trigger...