blocks wrote:Does anyone know if James Scott is still in the clink? I suspect he still may be there
Scott is NEVER going to be released.
In October 1978 at Rahway State Prison in New Jersey, inmate number 57735 scored a 12-round decision over Eddie Gregory (later Eddie Mustafa Muhammad). Twenty-five years later, James Scott remains inmate number 57735.
He was doing time for armed robbery when he fought Gregory, and, whilst incarcerated, was also convicted of a murder that had occurred in Newark, New Jersey.
Now he's serving a life sentence at South Woods State Prison in Bridgeton, New Jersey. Scott is 54 years old, and he'll almost surely die in prison. His fights are different, however. In 1984, he was transferred from Rahway to Trenton State Prison. Last year, he was transferred again, this time to South Woods.
"An inmate called Flo cut me," Scott explained during a 60-minute phone interview, "cut me on the side of the face. He got me from behind. Thirty-three stitches. I'll have a scar the rest of my life. He missed my jugular by a couple of inches. I got moved here."
Brief as it was, there was a time when Scott's back was always covered. He was arguably the best 175-pounder in boxing. While that brought status inside the prison walls, those on the outside weren't sure what to make of him - or what to do with him. The result was a moral dilemma.
"Politics gets into everything," Scott recalled. "People were wondering whether a prisoner should be allowed to fight for the world title. I had to try and do something to try and improve my prison life. Boxing had always been a big part of life in prison, so the warden said, 'If you get a sponsor, we'll give it a try.'
"The guards didn't protest because they made extra money working the fights. The image of the corrections department benefited. The state made money. Everybody benefited." (Scott's financial benefits were limited however; his biggest purse was $40,000 for his 1980 bout with Jerry Martin and he received just $4,000 of it, with New Jersey pocketing the rest).
Imagine if Scott had secured a shot at either of the world champions, Marvin Johnson or Matthew Saad Muhammad. How strange would that have been? How uncomfortable? What would've happened had he won? What would the rest of the world have thought of boxing then?
"Marvin was a southpaw who hit hard, but he was vulnerable to right hands, and I had a good right hand," said Scott. "The hardest one would've been Saad. He was the hardest hitter, but he bled kind of easy. It would've been hard, but I could've beaten him because I fought in close. That's how Dwight Braxton eventually beat him."
"Without question, Scott was at one point the best light heavyweight in the world," said HBO's Harold Lederman, who worked as a judge at four of Scott's Rahway fights. "He would've beaten anybody; he was long and lean, and he was a vicious bodypuncher. He'd hit so hard, you'd be in the audience and you'd say, 'Ouch!'"
One year after Scott introduced himself by upsetting Gregory, I attended his NBC-televised bout at Rahway against the WBA's leading contender Yaqui Lopez. The experience, of course, was nothing like covering a fight at Madison Square Garden or in Atlantic City. In fact, it was downright bizarre. And unsettling and depressing and intimidating. Rahway was a pale-green maximum-security prison and there wasn't a smiling face to be found.
"I remember the doors closing behind you," recalled Lederman. "There were a lot of young kids in there, and when you went home after Scott's fight, they weren't going with you. That made you think a whole lot."
Scott smothered Lopez, outmuscling him and setting a pace the perennial contender couldn't hope to match. "Of course I was in better shape," Scott said. "Working out was all I had to do."
On Scott's career graph, his points win over Lopez was the zenith. The WBC never ranked Scott, and, after listing him as high as number two, the WBA also opted to eliminate him from consideration. Nonetheless, Scott's three-year run, during which he fought on national television several times, was a unique chapter in boxing history.
He later dropped a decision to rising contender Jerry "The Bull' Martin, and in September 1981, he fought for the last time, losing on points to former fellow inmate and future world champion Dwight Braxton (later Dwight Muhammad Qawi).
"If you fight long enough, you're gonna lose," Scott mused. "If someone in the ring doesn't beat you, Father Time will."
Scott weighs 190 pounds now, and says that while he can still do a pushup or two, there's not enough protein in the prison food to keep him strong. He watches boxing "when they put it on TV here, which isn't too often." Asked to critique today's fighters, the only one he cared to mention was Roy Jones, who impresses him.
Twenty years ago, NBC's Marv Albert and Ferdie Pacheco seemingly spent as much time at Rahway as defence lawyers. But the TV cameras are a mere memory. Scott still receives the occasional request for an interview (journalists have to go through appropriate channels.) Still, he's hardly a celebrity anymore.
"I'm in a cell with two other guys," he said, "and James Scott doesn't mean anything to them. "I'm not popular anymore," he joked.
"But I've done my time, 27 years of it," Scott suddenly adds. "I should be out. But this is the hand I've been dealt. It's a bad hand, but it's my only one. You have to look through the manure to find something good. You know the old saying about the world being a stage and we're merely players? Well, I believe we have a part to play, and this is my destiny."
When I hung up the phone, I imagined that for Scott, the 'click' must have sounded like metal bars closing in front of him. Locking him up again. And distancing him even further from a time when number 57735 was instead number one.