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teen-agers and the people in their early 20s. Then young men and women
would rush in and pull white people from their cars and beat them and
try to set fire to their cars."
When two white men were attacked, one was so badly beaten that an
eyeball was hanging out of its socket. "Some Negro ministers carried
both men into an apartment building and called an ambulance," said
Richardson. "The crowd called the ministers hypocrites. They cussed
them and spit on them."
"He's Blood." Whenever rioters attacked whites, Richardson wrote,
bystanders shouted, "Kill! Kill!" Even light-skinned Negroes
occasionally found themselves targets until someone would shout, "Lay
off, he's blood." Negro shop owners posted signs pleading: "This is a
Negro-owned business" or "Blood Brother"—but many of these also were
pillaged by the mobs. After the looting began, Richardson reported,
"everybody started drinking, even little kids eight or nine years old.
The rioters knew they had the upper hand. They seemed to sense that
neither the police nor anyone else could stop them." One who tried was
Negro Comedian Dick Gregory, an ardent leader of Southern civil rights
demonstrations. Dropping by the riot area after an evening's nightclub
performance in nearby Ontario, Gregory asked if he could have a try at
quieting the mobs. Police took him to a hot spot, handed him a
bullhorn. Gregory had uttered only a few words when a bullet ploughed
into his leg
All through the second night, the mob rampaged through a vastly expanded
area, barricading the streets with ripped-up, cement-anchored bus
benches.
FRIDAY
From early morning, rioters surged through the streets screaming
imprecations at "Whitey," "blue-eyed devils," "Okies" and "Crackers."
Before picking up a rock and smashing a passing white man on the head,
one Negro youth explained to two Negro newsmen: "This is just what the
police wanted—always messin' with niggers. We'll show 'em. I'm ready
to die if I have to."
Even in daylight, Negroes congregated on all four corners of
intersections waiting for whites. As they attacked, many cried, "This
is for Selma" or "This is for Bogalusa." Young Negroes in late-model
convertibles took command of the streets, screaming "Burn, baby,
burn!", a hipster term popularized locally by "the Magnificent
Montague," a Negro disk jockey. Ring leaders identified themselves by
holding up three fingers on the right hand signifying that they were
true "to the cause of the black brotherhood."
Radios & Rugs. Suddenly the mob turned its energies to looting. Even
women, children and grandparents joined the orgy of rapine. As soon as
any store was bare, it was set afire. At 103rd Street and Compton
Avenue, a mob methodically sacked a whole row of shops. The plunderers
carted off radios, TV sets, clothing, lamps, air conditioners, rugs,
musical instruments. A little boy of eight or nine sat sobbing his
heart out on a pawnshop shelf. Every time he took a radio, he
whimpered, somebody bigger snatched it away from him. Reported Negro
Photographer Jimmy Thompson: "They don't even know why they're doing it
any more. They're taking stuff they don't even need." But one rallying
cry never failed: "We're
