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No Call for It. The very triviality of the riot's immediate cause made the Newark outburst particularly terrifying. It seemed to say that a dozen or so people could be killed in almost any city, any night, by the purest chance. In the past three years, racial riots have flared in some 50 U.S. cities, from Harlem to Hough, Chicago to Cincinnati, Boston to Buffalo, Watts to Waukegan. Most began with a vagrant spark, and often it takes nothing more than that.
In Hartford, Conn., last week, a Negro luncheonette owner threw out a Negro customer for getting fresh with a waitress—and the upshot was two days of violence. What began as a dispute between Negroes ended in damage to 14 shops, a few of which were white-owned; it also brought injuries to 14 of both races. Police in Erie, Pa., broke up a sidewalk crap game among Negro youths—and the result was two days of stonings and stickwork. Officials in Cincinnati, Tampa and Buffalo, where ghetto dwellers rampaged earlier this summer, nervously sought ways to avert fresh flare-ups. Racial disturbances also occurred in Plainfield, N.J., Laurel, Md., Kansas City, Mo., and Miami.
As unlikely a place as Waterloo, a nice, small city of 75,000 in northeast Iowa's dairy area, was touched, too, by the madness. Waterloo's Negroes make up only 8% of the population, are well integrated into the schools, and enjoy an unemployment rate of a minimal 2.3% (well below the current national average of 4%). But trouble exploded anyway. A young Negro, in full view of a prowl car, deliberately knocked down an old white man who was sweeping the sidewalk in front of a tavern. His arrest touched off yet another 48 hours of rioting by Negro youths—to the perplexity of their elders. Said Albert Morehead, 68, a Mississippi-reared Negro who takes pride in the symbols of his success in the North—a neat frame house and around it flourishing patches of greens and flowers: "I can't see no call for it."
Preferred Brands. There seemed to be little call for the explosion in Newark, either. Nevertheless, after building up slowly, it spewed violence in all directions. After the first pop bottles and bricks were heaved, the looters moved in. Harry's Liquor Store, a fueling stop about a block from the precinct house where Cabby Smith was booked, became the first target. A brick smashed the unprotected display window; gallons of liquor poured out —into throats, not gutters. From other liquor stores, Negro looters formed human chains that reached clear around corners. They went first for the imported Scotch (Chivas Regal and Johnny Walker Red Label were the preferred brands), then for the bourbons and gins, next for vodka and champagne and—when everything else ran out—for cheap muscatels and cordials. TV stores were hard-hit. "I can get $500 for this color set," exulted one looter. "It's got a $1,000 price tag on it."