CNBNews Editor Recalls the Newark Uprising
Monday, November 11, 2024
By William E. Cleary | CNBNewsnet
DANTE'S INFERNO- An aerial view of the fires burning during the Newark riots in 1967. The first thing we noticed as we drove down the turnpike ramp into the largest city in the state was the thick smoke that blocked the sun and purged our nostrils. In the distance, we saw buildings burning. The sounds of sirens from fire engines and police cars could be heard echoing from every direction. (Photo courtesy of NJ.com)
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NEGRO STORE owners wrote SOUL BROTHER on their windows with the hope that the rioters wouldn't loot their businesses. Newark police officers were seen early in the morning before sunrise walking down the business center, shooting out those windows with a shotgun. (Pinterest photo)
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NEWARK, NJ (August 1, 2024)(CNBNews)--Although the Newark riot in 1967 happened 57 years ago, the memory of that time is still fresh in my mind. The 50th memorial anniversary of the Newark riots was remembered on July 12, 2017. Some of us who were there called it "The Battle of Newark." The five-day conflict broke out on July 12, 1967. Soldiers from South Jersey who belonged to the 50th Armored Division,1st Battalion, 114th Infantry Regiment, also known as the "Jersey Blues," were called early in the morning on that day to report to their respective armories either in Woodbury or Pitman. The same call was being sent to Guardsmen stationed at other armories in New Jersey.
I was working at the Gloucester City Post Office as a mailman when my supervisor, Gus Breffer, whispered in my ear, "Bill, your Guard Unit has been activated by Governor Hughes. You are to go immediately to the Pitman Armory. Do not go home. Your Sergeant on the phone emphasized that you were not to call anyone; you were to go straight to Pitman," said Breffer. He served his country in the Korean War. I thought for a moment Gus was going to drive me to Pitman to make sure I obeyed the order.
BACK IN THE DAY, in 1967 or thereabouts, yours truly, at age 23, worked at the Gloucester City Post Office and part-time at the Gloucester City News and Camden County Record. Some said I resembled Barry Gibb or Eric Clapton because of my long hair and beard. Where are my ears? If only I could sing.
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As I drove south on Route 47 to Pitman, I didn't know what to think. I knew nothing about riots in Newark. But, I did know there were news reports about the New Jersey Army National Guard Units being sent to Vietnam and Berlin, Germany, which were both hot spots in the 60s located oceans away. At the Pitman Armory, there was a squad comprised of men from Brooklawn, Gloucester City, and nearby towns. I proudly belonged to that group. With around 12 members, all in their twenties, some of them were familiar faces, friends I had known for most of my young life. In those days, Gloucester guys were always there for each other. If you ever found yourself in trouble, you could count on your friends to have your back. It was just an unspoken bond.
MARITAL Law was declared. A police officer and two members of the New Jersey National Guard. One of the two soldiers in the deuce is armed with a 12 gauge shotgun. (July 1967 Newark NJ riots) photo courtesy of NJ.com
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The local men who fought in the riots were; Ed Barnett, Billy Carr, Jim Coppola, Ed DiGiacomo, Tall Earnie from Philly, Tom Keebler, Charlie Cloud, The MacAdams brothers (Horace, Ed, Jeep, and Joe), Ed McGregor, Sam McQuaid, Earl Fowler, Paul Fowler, Gerald Healey, Charlie Tourtual, Sid Vaultier, Don Wilson, Ralph Richards, the Jackson brothers, Charlie Savidge (medic), and Skip Zirbser, among others. Regrettably, many of those mentioned have passed away and have moved on to the next life. (If I've forgotten your name or a relative's name, please send it to [email protected].
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THE PITMAN ARMORY—Several years ago, an environmental investigation and cleanup of the site located on Route 47 was conducted. Buried oil tanks were eventually removed from the seven-acre armory, which was built in 1948. (Photo courtesy of The Courier Post)
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Upon arriving at the Armory, a sergeant instructed everyone to change into our fatigues in the locker room. The large trucks, known as the Deuce and a Half, were going to transport us to our destination, and they were in the back of the armory, their diesel engines humming. After changing, we loaded our weapons onto one truck and climbed into another. Before we knew it, we were headed north in a large convoy on the New Jersey Turnpike. Soldiers from the Woodbury Armory, along with soldiers from across the state, joined our ranks, driving up the turnpike. It was something to see. State Troopers were escorting us, their car’s rooftop lights were flashing. We still had no idea where we were going.
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During that drive, there were moments of trepidation. However, when I saw all the trucks in the convoy, I felt the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I realized that I was part of something significant. Something thrilling and dangerous. A rush of emotions and thoughts continued to flood my mind for most of the ride.
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The convoy turned at the exit for the City of Newark. The first thing we noticed as we drove down the turnpike ramp was the thick smoke that blocked the sun and purged our nostrils. In the distance, we saw buildings burning. The sounds of sirens from fire engines and police cars could be heard echoing from every direction. The caravan weaved through residential neighborhoods at a fast pace. Some of the people threw bottles and bricks at us. Others just stared like they were in shock as we passed their homes. Eventually, we stopped at a large high school campus. It felt good to stretch after sitting in the back of the truck for over two hours. There were several Salvation Army food trucks parked nearby waiting to feed us. None of us had eaten for some time. We got a boloney and cheese sandwich and a bottle of water. That would be the last food we would see for the next 36 hours. Those Salvation Army food trucks also came into the warzone throughout the five days the riots lasted to feed us.
SCENES OF DEVASTATION -- A police officer stands next to the body of a black man. On the right, a National Guardsman views what was left of several buildings that were burned down by rioters. After that conflict was over, the area where the riots took place reminded people of World War II, Hiroshima, Japan, after the H-bomb was dropped on that city. (Petapixel.com)
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We carried our duffle bags into the gym and piled them against the wall. A formation was called, and our Captain, Ed McGregor, explained that Governor Hughes had activated the National Guard to quell the riots in the City of Newark. He explained that our mission would be dangerous and that we were to rely on our training. We were instructed only to shoot our weapons in self-defense. He didn’t know how long we would be staying in Newark.
LOOTERS DESTROYED DOWNTOWN NEWARK--Two Newark police officers stared at the looters who broke into the stores in downtown Newark, vandalizing and robbing the members of the local business community. The Guardsmen and police on the scene couldn't understand why they doing it. Eventually, those stores were burnt completely to the ground. When the fire engines arrived, the people threw bricks at the firemen. The only people the black people were hurting were themselves. (Pinterest photo)
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We were taken into the area where the riots were occurring and the buildings were burning. It looked like WWII Japan after the H-Bomb was dropped. Our company headquarters were set up on Clinton Avenue in a large parking lot. On both sides of that street, there were businesses on either side that had the words SOUL BRO written in big black letters on store windows. We were told those businesses were owned by negroes who were telling the rioters not to burn their stores. After midnight, a police officer walked along the street with a shotgun, shooting out the windows that were marked. From that location, soldiers from our Company were disbursed into the business area in the nearby neighborhoods.
NOTE: In 1940 Newark had a population of about 430,000 which was mostly White. A little more than ten percent of the population was Black (45,000). The White groups consisted mainly of German's, Irish, Italians, Polish, and Jews. There were very few Hispanics in Newark at that time. By 1967 the population of Newark was about 400,000 and was just about evenly split 50/50 between Blacks and Whites. Newark had the largest percentage of Blacks of any city in the North. Source Newark Memories
NEWARK, JULY 14, 1967: Black men jeer at National Guardsmen who were called out along with the NJ State Pollice to quell the riot. Newark is New Jersey's largest city.
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Jim Coppola, Ed DiGiacomo, Charlie Cloud, and I were assigned to guard a drug store and several other businesses on the same block. Three of us were from Gloucester, and Cloud was from Audubon. The pharmacy owner was boarding up his windows. He thanked us for being there and told us we could have anything we wanted, including cigarettes, but not the beer or the pharmaceutical drugs locked up in the back of the store.
We didn’t know what to expect. None of us really knew how we would react if someone were trying to kill us by rifle fire or by throwing a brick at us, especially if we were in combat, which we were on that day. When the bullets started flying towards us, the four of us just hid behind whatever cover we could find. I don’t recall who fired back first at the sniper(s), but after that happened, we all did the same. As the sun was setting, the gunfire became louder and much closer. It was certain that our enemies had found us. Several of the rounds sounded very close. We ducked behind a car, looking for a muzzle flash or someone to fire at. Nearby, a building started to burn. Out of nowhere, a New Jersey State Police car drove up and parked in front of the drug store. The troopers inside jumped out of their car and ran into the drugstore. The driver opened up the trunk and stepped to the side closer to the drug store. Minutes passed before the troopers came out carrying cases of beer and other contraband. They placed the stolen goods in the trunk of their patrol car and drove off.
That night, I witnessed fire everywhere, reminiscent of Dante’s Inferno. I half-expected Satan to emerge from the flames at any moment. Despite the burning buildings being a block or more away, the heat from those blazes was intense. I felt a constant sense of unease and was constantly scanning in all directions for any signs of the rioters getting close to our sector.
The streets got quieter in the early morning hours. We heard a window break followed by DiGiacomo screaming, “I found tasty cakes, anyone hungry?
On the second day, our sector was expanded; we were warned to keep away from tall buildings as people were throwing cinder blocks from the rooftops. A crowd was standing in the middle of a major intersection, blocking traffic. Several squads from our platoon were ordered to form a wedge formation and move the rioters. A First Lieutenant stood behind the wedge counting cadence. Some of the rioters started to throw bricks at us as we got closer to the intersection. Suddenly the cadence stopped. When I and others looked behind us, we saw the Lieutenant was running in the opposite direction. Seconds passed, more bricks were being thrown at us, and the crowd was emboldened and getting larger. Nearby watching this take place were, *First Sergeant Ed MacAdams and *First Sergeant Jeep MacAdams. Both of them came running towards us and brought us back into the wedge formation. The two of them shouting cadence moved us towards the rioters who ran as we got closer with fixed bayonets. If the MacAdams brothers hadn’t been there, it is no telling what would have happened. As for the Lieutenant, we never saw him again.
When I watched the YouTube videos and listened to the rounds that were exploding back and forth, we were lucky that our losses were so small. On the other hand, more than likely, the volleys of shots being fired were coming mostly from the state police, area cops, and the National Guardsmen. At times it seemed at times all it would take for a one-side firefight to start would be a shot coming one of the windows in a tall building. You couldn't see who was shooting, they were sitting or standing in the shadows of the room they were in. . As I drove Sgt. McQuaid around in the jeep I saw one guy with a Browning automatic rifle, with typods (BAR) shooting off a clip. He couldn't control the weapon, and the recoil from the BAR was knocking him back into a brick wall.
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During my time at Pitman Armony, I trained as a radio operator and was assigned to Master Sergeant Sam McQuaid. Later on the second day of the riots, McQuaid called on me to drive his jeep and operate the radio. He was a decorated veteran of the Korean War and enjoyed being in the midst of the action. If he spotted a firefight while we were on the move, he would instruct me to drive into the battle. He and the sharpshooter would then disembark from the jeep and take cover, and I was expected to do the same. A radio message was received about a firefight happening a few blocks away. The soldiers needed more ammo. As soon as we arrived, McQuaid and the sharpshooter quickly exited the jeep, and I took shelter on my side of the vehicle. Bullets were pummeling the hood, and my legs started to cramp due to my awkward position. Unable to tolerate the pain, I dashed across the street to seek closer cover, but in my haste, I forgot my rifle, which was a grave mistake. The sniper continued to fire at us. I glanced at Sgt. McQuaid and sensed by the expression on his face that he was upset with me. After a few tense minutes, he bellowed, "Cleary, NOW!" Simultaneously, a barrage of bullets was unleashed by him and the other soldiers towards the sniper. Hastily, I sprinted back to the jeep, retrieved my rifle, and regrouped with McQuaid and the others. Surprisingly, the sergeant didn't subject me to pushups or a long trek back to headquarters on Clinton Avenue. Instead, he looked towards me, shaking his head with a smile on his face.
MARSHALL LAW IMPOSED--Guardsmen searched a man who was later charged with breaking the curfew that was imposed under marshall law. (Petapixel.com)
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As night fell, we made our way back to the Clinton Avenue HQ. Soldiers from the Pitman Armory were going to be relieved. The promise of hot showers and a warm meal at the school where we left our duffle bags was all we could think of as our convoy of jeeps and troop carriers sped east down Clinton Avenue towards Broad Street. Captain McGregor’s jeep led the way, with several other jeeps carrying cadre behind him, followed by the trucks carrying the soldiers. However, we were not naive to the danger. Our convoy presented an easy target for snipers, and it didn't take long for that threat to materialize. As we were about to enter Broad Street, a large intersection unscathed by the riots, a sniper or snipers opened fire. While the jeeps kept going, the head truck driver came to a dead stop instead of picking up speed. The other truck drivers behind him had no other choice but to stop. Every one of the soldiers jumped out from the back of the trucks and either hid under the big deuce or stood on the opposite side of it, away from the shots being fired at us.
The Star-Ledger
A sergeant or officer yelled for one man in our group who had the reputation of being the faster guy in our Armory. He was ordered to run across the street and draw fire. The soldier responded with an expletive, which caused the superior officer's face to turn red and the veins in his neck to swell. Within minutes, the soldier was relieved of his weapon, and the patch designating his rank on the sleeves of his uniform was ripped off on the spot. None of us blamed the guy, and none of us volunteered to take on the task at hand. It was obvious that the person in charge had watched too many “Audrey Murphy” movies. Luckily, the sniper stopped shooting, and we headed back to the school gym. As for the soldier, he was placed on KP and enjoyed every minute of it.
Hobby's Deli, in downtown Newark, was one of the only businesses to survive the riots 50 years ago. Samuel Brummer was the owner at the time and his wife, Rona, and sons, Marc and Michael, credit Samuel's kindness to the community for it's survival. (NJ.com video courtesy of NJ.com)
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It was late before any of us got to bed down. Even then, you were so hyped up that it was hard to get any sleep. You lay there tossing and turning. Some guys had no problem; you could hear them snoring. In June, the soldiers from the Pitman and Woodbury Armories were away at Camp Drum, NY, for our annual two weeks of training. During that time, my wife Connie delivered our second child, Connie Lynn, on June 8, 1967. I haven’t talked to ‘Precious’ since we were activated two days before. I learned later that she and her girlfriend Karen Plews Zirbser would watch the riots on the nightly news each night with tears in their eyes, wondering if we were hurt or worse. When the riots ended, 26 people had been killed.
On the third day, after a quick breakfast at the school, we headed back to the riot zone. The soldier, who had been placed on KP for disobeying orders the day before, dished out scrambled eggs into my mess kit with a genuine smile. Before we could even fully digest our meal, we were swiftly whisked away back to the riot zone. A number of squads were sent out to patrol the neighborhoods and identify the individuals who were shooting at us. As we carefully walked through the downtown business area, we noticed that cement cinder blocks had been thrown from the rooftops above, crashing onto the sidewalks in various locations. We were uncertain whether anyone had been hit by the blocks, but if they had, the victim would likely have been killed. We saw several large groups of people standing in the crowd, listening to men wearing red berets in various spots throughout the riot area. Later, we were told these individuals were members of the Black Panthers, a rebellious organization that was involved in the riots.
As we continued our patrol, I spotted an outside phone booth. I borrowed some coins and called Connie, reversing the charges. She answered the phone and immediately started to cry. At the same time, someone started to shoot at me from a nearby. The bullets richeted off the walls near the phone booth. I dropped the receiver and yelled goodbye to her. Later at home, she described how she heard the sounds of the rifle shots pinging on the telephone booth or nearby it. She didn’t hear me yell goodbye. The abrupt ending of our call led to more tears for her.
We departed Newark late on the fifth day, the anticipation of returning home palpable among us. Gratitude filled our hearts as none of us had sustained serious injuries. Amidst exhaustion and grime, I yearned for the embrace of my wife and two daughters. The journey to Pitman seemed to stretch on endlessly. Upon our arrival at the Armory, two women stood at the compound entrance, proudly holding large cardboard signs that proclaimed, "Welcome Home Troops!" Intrigued whispers filled the air as someone mused, "I wonder who they are?" Peering out from the back of the truck, I was filled with relief and joy as I recognized the two women to be my wife, Connie, and her best friend, Karen, the wife of Guardsman Skip Zirbser.
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NEWS CLIPS
Newark’s summer of violence was sparked on the night of July 12, 1967 and lasted for five agonizing days. It all started with a rumor that was quickly spread throughout Newark. Two white officers arrested and beat a black cab driver named John Smith after he drove past their parked vehicle. Bystanders said this was done without any provocation whatsoever on the part of Smith. The officers were from the notorious 4th Precinct, and black residents thought Smith had been killed inside.
“They started draggin’ me through the streets, and this evidently incensed the people of the community.”
— John Smith
Smith, who was very much alive, had been charged with assaulting the two officers and verbally insulting them. Crowds of black spectators followed Smith as he was dragged through the streets of Central Ward and they waited outside the precinct. Police ordered them to engage in peaceful protests, but the belief that Smith had been killed was enough to incite an uprising. Officers responded with force.
The very thing that Martin Luther King, Jr. had spoken about in his speech three months earlier began to unfold. A long-oppressed community reacted with violence and riots, as they looted neighborhood stores and set buildings ablaze with Molotov cocktails. Before long, police officers were given shotguns and the entire force was placed on emergency duty. They were also told to “fire if necessary.” Prior to 3:00 a.m., the National Guard and state police were called in to deal with the angry crowds.
As the police and military presence increased, the violence escalated. On the evening of July 15, Rebecca Brown, a nurse’s aide and mother of four, was ruthlessly gunned down in her second-floor apartment by state police and National Guardsmen who were randomly opening fire at the upper floors of buildings in response to reports of a sniper being in the area. Fifty-three-year-old grandmother Hattie Gainer was killed in the same apartment building while sitting by her window as she often liked to do. Eloise Spellman, a mother of 11 children, was shot and killed in her 10th-floor apartment for the same reason. The alleged sniper, who was never proven to exist, was reportedly never found either.
When the violence, looting, destruction, and rioting ended, 26 people in total had died or been killed as a result, among them 16 civilians, 8 suspected looters and rioters, one police officer, and one firefighter. Another 727 people were reportedly injured, from civilians to military personnel, and 1,500 others were arrested. The property damage cost the city about $10 million dollars (over $75 million when accounting for inflation). The armed response by the government was strong, with some 7,900 men being deployed in the city.
SOURCE CBS NEWS TV
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EDITOR’S NOTE: *Ed MacAdams was married to my wife’s aunt, Eleanore Sarlo MacAdams. Jeep was from Brooklawn and had three sons, Ken, Tom, and Scott, and a daughter, Jeanne. Throughout the ordeal I noticed Ed and Jeep kept a close eye on me during those tempestuous days in Newark.
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ET CETERA--Reflecting on the experience and recalling the devastating impact on numerous homes and businesses in Newark caused by the Molotov cocktails used by the rioters, it's undeniable that it resembled a real war. During our first day in the field, Coppola, Cloud, and DiGiacomo and myself went through one ammo box containing 200 rounds. What I am emphatically stating is that the Newark riot, the Detroit riot, the New York City riot, and others during the 1960s manifested into warlike conditions.