Pool_1

The crowd began marching around the intersection. The children with their rocks began, carefully cued, "1, 2, 3, throw," by the photographers. They tossed stones at the brick wall on the far side of the empty lot. "Do it again, but give me a mean face! You're angry. Wait! Only one at a time. You. You first, then you, then you. I need to get the rock as it comes off your fingers. Ready? 1, 2, 3, throwwww." On and on. A perfectly choreographed incident with kids harmlessly tossing rocks at a brick wall for twenty five cents a pop - that was the going fee agreed to by the photographers. "That's it?" Mac asked incredulously, "That's the riot?" Washington replied, "Welllll, yes and no. That's the wind up. The pitch comes with the evening news. The hit comes tomorrow. Don't come near this place tomorrow." The pitch - the Hayn papers - reported how crowds of blacks from the tenements descended on officers who merely responded to a vehicle blocking traffic. The angry faces of children throwing rocks was all too vivid. The police were bloodied by the angry mob, but showed amazing restraint, it was reported. The Black Vigil screamed at the police who instead of helping a lady who's car stalled, called her racist names. When they were going to impound her car, local citizens came to her defense. The brutal police reaction that followed resulted in more citizens of the community being drawn into the fray. Black civic leaders and clergy were beaten bloody by ruthless senseless police action. Only those who knew not to read the newspapers had the story right. At least that part, as the next day saw real riots with real damage and another restless summer of fire was born. But why? Mac could not make sense of this stupidity. Why would both sides cooperate in this scheme? He floated in the water, on his back, looking at the sky, in