Wednesday, January 6, 2010

FRED SCOTT

Fred Scott was a good 'ol boy from Helena, Georgia. What we call a Wide Body, he would've been an imposing presence on an NFL line any Sunday. He worked for the NPD in the 50's and early 60's, until he was shot in the arm by a fellow police officer, who, mentally ill and violent, also wounded Chief Ben Caruthers.
Fred loved country music and asked Sam Bass, a master musician and fellow cop, to teach him how to play the fiddle. Sam, who was later elected to the Florida Country Music Hall of Fame, obliged and pretty soon Fred was sawing out a near-recognizable Orange Blossom Special. Problem was Fred's wife couldn't tolerate the squeaks and squalls that are attendant to novice fiddle playing. She banned Fred to the front porch. Until the neighbors enjoyed about as much of his music as they could stand. So Fred moved into his car.
This could've been a good compromise today, but then, Fred's car was a VW--don't ask me how the giant even got into it--and it had no AC. But, you could see Fred in it, parked in front of his house, windows steamed and rolled up and the car bouncing up and down like a clogger at a hoedown.
The wounded arm troubled Fred the rest of his life, causing him to wake in the middle of the night with fearsome pains. It wasn't uncommon to run into him at one of the all-night burger joints, getting a little snack so he could go back to sleep. A snack for Fred was three hamburgers. For him, a burger was a two-bite hors d'oeuvre. Two bites. Washed it down with a couple large cokes. And, of course, some fries on the side.
Like many giants, he was gentle, kind, and soft spoken. We still miss him.

1 comment:

  1. I liked old Fred alot, used to see him at Dunkin Donuts and we would share a cup. He really liked telling war stories, and I liked listening. You are right, he was a good guy.

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