Word: sylvaner
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Hard Hats & Gas Masks. The march took place on the afternoon of Sunday, March 7. Ignoring an order from Governor Wallace forbidding the march, 650 Negroes and a few whites assembled at the Brown Chapel African Methodist Episcopal Church on Selma's Sylvan Street. Leading them were John Lewis, militant head of the Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee (S.N.C.C.), and Hosea Williams, an official of King's Southern Christian Leadership Conference. Two abreast, many of them laden with bedrolls and knapsacks, the Negroes filed through the back streets of Selma, turned onto Broad Street, and headed...
Half an hour later, the march began. Down Sylvan Street they trooped. At Water Avenue they turned right and followed the road to the bridge. In the front rank marched four young S.N.C.C. workers, solemn and purposeful. Behind them, arms linked, were King and his brother, the Rev. A.D. William King, James Farmer, head of the Congress of Racial Equality, and others...
...church is surrounded by possemen, state troopers, and Jim Clark. They have Sylvan Street [the street the church is on] blocked off from one end to the other so people can't get in or out of the church. They are forcing people to go back into their homes, beating them with billy sticks...
...years old, that Ted Shawn is 72. Yet the dance they performed, choreographed by Shawn, taken from a poem by St. Denis, was in honor of their 50th wedding anniversary. It was the latest of countless new works that have been premiered at Jacob's Pillow, the sylvan retreat in Massachusetts' rolling Berkshire hills that Ted Shawn founded 31 years...
Within the sylvan secrecy of Bohemian Grove, 75 miles north of San Francisco, there is a spot almost equidistant from the Russian River and Snob Hill Trail. It is called Cave Man Camp. There, for two days last week, Barry Goldwater slipped gratefully into seclusion, surrounded by centuries-old redwoods, water-lily-carpeted ponds, and a covey of U.S. millionaires and influentials, Republican and Democratic, who like to strip to their skivvies, swig Scotch in the sun, and forget their troubles...