Paterno’s ouster deals crushing blow to Penn State community

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On Wednesday night, it offered specials of crabcakes a la Tavern and chicken alfredo as nearby columns of state troopers, wielding batons and stun guns, charged toward students.

One middle-aged man near the Lipstick Salon’s pink entrance begged students to read the grand jury indictment. His words went unnoticed. The mob maintained some manners, however, offering “pardon” and “excuse me” when jostling one another. Others posed for pictures next to downed light poles and used cellphones to capture images of the crowd of thousands surging and splitting and reforming.

They talked about breaking television cameras and rejoiced over surrounding one group of six state troopers, their backs to one another in a protective circle, face shields down and batons cocked. Students joked that they looked like stormtroopers and hummed the “Imperial March” from “Star Wars.”

A student cradled a life-sized cardboard cutout of Mr. Paterno through the mace, like a talisman.

Another group of state troopers marched three abreast down a deserted side street. Their heavy boots clomped on the wet pavement.

“Listen up,” their leader shouted. “Students on College Avenue are throwing rocks.”

The clomps quickened.

On a piece of paper, long discarded, rested a verse from Penn State’s alma mater: “May no act of ours bring shame.”

In the bushes off College Avenue, on ground turning to mud, a sign in running blue ink proclaimed “no neutral ground” in the battle against sexual abuse of children.

Mr. Daugherty swept up Red Bull cans, more broken glass and the sand firefighters used to soak up gasoline that spilled from the fallen television truck.

“I’m just trying to get this out of the road,” Mr. Daugherty said.

“I have a feeling we’ll be back here again,” Ronald L. Filippelli, president of the borough council, told him.

Students trickled back from the riots. One said, “This is so awful.” Another stopped to look at a blue sequined dress in the window of Mr. Charles Shop.

No one stopped to help clean up.

Two miles away, the Second Mile charity Mr. Sandusky founded in 1977 to work with troubled boys some of whom he is accused of abusing sat empty. Its white sign blazed, impossible to miss.

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