The Newark Riots of 1967: Historic Photos Documenting the Rage, Destruction, and the Aftermath of Urban Unrest

By the summer of 1967, Newark, New Jersey was a city under enormous pressure. African American residents had endured decades of poverty, overcrowded housing, high unemployment, and routine police brutality. City government was largely white and unresponsive to Black neighborhoods. The frustration had been building for years, and on the night of July 12th, it finally broke open.

The trigger was the arrest of John Smith, a Black cab driver, by two white police officers near the Hayes Homes housing project. Word spread fast through the neighborhood that Smith had been beaten — possibly killed — inside the Fourth Precinct. Within hours, a crowd gathered outside the precinct demanding answers. Bottles and bricks flew. Police responded with nightsticks and tear gas. The streets of Newark exploded.

Community leaders tried to hold the line. CORE official Robert Curvin used a bullhorn outside the Fourth Precinct to urge the crowd to stay calm. His efforts, like those of others that night, were not enough to stop what had already been set in motion. The anger on the street was too deep and too old.

Protests took many forms during those five days. Young people marched and demonstrated, some specifically targeting the use of federal and National Guard troops in their neighborhoods. To many residents, armed soldiers patrolling their streets felt less like protection and more like occupation.

Governor Richard Hughes declared a state of emergency and called in the New Jersey National Guard on July 13th. By that point, looting had spread along Springfield Avenue and Central Avenue — the commercial backbones of Newark’s Black community. Stores were ransacked and set on fire. The smell of smoke hung over the city for days.

Aerial views of the city showed entire blocks looted and gutted. On the ground, the destruction was block by block, store by store. Some Black business owners posted signs in their windows reading “Negro Owner” or “Soul Brothers” in an attempt to protect their shops from being targeted.

The National Guard moved into Springfield Avenue in force. Soldiers in full gear, armed with rifles and riding in armored personnel carriers, rolled through residential streets. Jeeps mounted with light machine guns took up positions at intersections. Officers held briefings in warehouses before sending units out into the chaos.

Snipers firing from rooftops added a deadly dimension to the unrest. Police and state troopers exchanged gunfire with shooters positioned above the street level. Officers took cover behind parked cars and building corners, weapons drawn and pointed upward. The Guard responded by sending soldiers to scan rooftops and seal off streets.

Along every major street, soldiers took up defensive positions — behind cars, under building awnings, behind stacked boxes, and alongside jeeps. Some crouched in darkened doorways. Others lay in wait with rifles pointed toward empty stretches of pavement, waiting for movement.

At night, the Guard patrolled on foot, bayonets fixed and flashlights raised. The streets were under curfew. Residents who stepped outside were stopped and searched. Entire blocks were cordoned off. Armored personnel carriers moved slowly through intersections, blocking routes in and out of affected neighborhoods.

Arrests were made by the hundreds. Police stopped cars and ordered passengers out at gunpoint. Men were frisked on sidewalks, pressed against vehicles, and searched at bayonet point. Those caught looting were hauled away. Families waited at police stations, hoping to find out where their relatives had been taken.

Among those arrested was LeRoi Jones — the poet and playwright later known as Amiri Baraka — who was pulled from a vehicle and beaten. Photos taken at the police station show him bloodied, chained, and in handcuffs. Jones was charged with illegal possession of firearms, a charge he maintained was fabricated. He was convicted and sentenced, though the conviction was later overturned on appeal.

The physical toll on Newark’s residents was severe. Dozens were taken to hospitals with gunshot wounds and injuries. One photo shows a man holding his injured eye as he is admitted for treatment. Three young men — chained and handcuffed, one in a bloodstained white shirt — were among the hundreds processed through the system during those five days.

Police officer Frederick Toto was one of the people killed during the riots. His death was one of 26 fatalities recorded before the violence ended on July 17th. The dead included men, women, and children — most of them Black residents of Newark, many killed by law enforcement gunfire. Property damage across the city ran into the tens of millions of dollars.

While soldiers and police locked down the streets, ordinary life ground to a halt. Storefronts were shuttered. Children walked past broken mannequins and shattered glass. Some young residents stopped to look at the National Guardsmen stationed in their alleys and on their corners — armed strangers standing in the middle of neighborhoods where people still lived.

Looted stores sat empty and burned. A National Guard soldier stood post in front of a gutted shop on one block, while on another, a guardsman sat alone on the steps of a closed convenience store, rifle in hand. The mannequins that had fallen from smashed display windows lay on the pavement next to discarded merchandise.

Patrols moved through residential blocks in large groups, rifles at the ready. State police joined the Guard in sweeping commercial areas for looters and stragglers. Residents who remained outdoors were ordered to move. Those who didn’t comply were detained. The line between enforcing order and escalating tension was crossed repeatedly on both sides.

Inside police stations, state troopers stood at counters alongside civilians caught up in the disorder. In one image, an elderly Black man sits quietly at a cafeteria counter surrounded by uniformed officers. In another, a hairdresser’s shop front serves as a rest stop for exhausted National Guardsmen between deployments. The Guard and police were everywhere — in doorways, on rooftops, behind every available piece of cover.