"My father and I were driving toward a mail box at the corner of Peachtree and Houston Streets when there came from nearby Pryor Street a roar . . . which sent a sensation of mingled fear and excitement coursing through my body . . . We saw a lame Negro bootblack from Herndon's barber shop pathetically trying to outrun a mob of whites. Less than a hundred yards from us the chase ended. We saw clubs and fists descending to the accompaniment of savage shouting and cursing. Suddenly a voice cried: 'There...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
