james scott
james scott
I'm trying to find out whatever happened to James Scott, the light-heavyweight contender who boxed out of Rahway prison in the late 70's/early 80's. Any information greatly received
Re; James Scott
On 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-four 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 really number one.
57735 scored a 12-round decision over Eddie Gregory (later Eddie
Mustafa Muhammad). Twenty-four 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 really number one.