Jane Scott of the Plain Dealer is known as the world's oldest rock reporter. She started B.B. (before the Beatles) and did interview them.
She has interviewed rock stars since her first talk with John Lennon in 1966. In the meantime she was also the teen writer and golden age writer, or as her cohorts have said -- from pimples to pensions.
She is a graduate of Lakewood High School, the University of Michigan and a little business school that went out of business, the old Wilcox College of Commerce on Public Square.
Scott, who has lived her life in Lakewood and Russell Township and nothing in between, is also a deltiologist and proud of it. That's a postcard collector.
By Jane Scott
By Jane Scott
A few years back, I actually found a friend my age to attend a rock concert with me.
Thatís about as easy as booking a babysitter on New Yearís Eve. Especially if the word is out that you are the oldest rock reviewer on a metropolitan daily.
In this case, my friend overheard mentions of Deep Purple and asked to go. But just to be sure, I called before I picked her up.
"Iím so excited!" she said. "Thatís the song that Bob and I fell in love to at his Beta Theta Pi fraternity dance, back in Ď38". Then she burst into song -- "When the deep purple falls, over sleepy garden walls..."
I hated to break the spell -- but todayís Deep Purple is a loud, non-sleepy heavy metal group.
Her grandson went instead.
Thatís just one of the little problems you face if you find yourself a little out of synch with your contemporaries. My generation grew up when it was Glenn Miller instead of Metallica, Tommy Dorseyís "Marie" instead of the "Macarena," and "Dancing in the Dark" was a No. 1 by Artie Shaw, not Bruce Springsteen.
But Iíve found there are wonderful compensations. I love a lot of the rock today. And I have actually been invited to give a talk at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum Wednesday night (January 29th, 1997), the hall I hoped would happen for 10 years.
After almost 35 years of covering rock, thereís a lot I could talk about. But there are also a few tidbits I donít think I'll dwell on in my rock remarks next week:
Probably you have never heard of the first record I ever bought -- Jimmy Rushing singing the R&B "Sent for You Yesterday (And Here You Come Today)." A real boogie beat . I played it over and over on my little windup Victrola.
But donít be too critical. I just learned that Joe Walsh of the Eagles puts on bagpipe records at home. And singer Sean Carlin of Dink, that raucous grungy funky group from Kent, is into surf music.
Yes, my contemporaries often ask what I see in rock Ďní roll, why do I still go to concerts. ("Do you really like that stuff?" -- the answer is yes, most of it.)
But I have never dropped out of the music scene. Those who did werenít at Blossom the night that the Doobie Brothers played "Black Water."
We were all different ages. We didnít know each other. But we were standing together and singing together, and there was a love and a harmony that lifted our hearts. Our problems or pains didnít exist. For that brief but wonderful time, we were one.
That kind of oneness sometimes extends to shows I go to today.
At many of them, there comes a magic moment where the unity resurfaces. Itís at those times that I donít even mind when kids call me "Mom"or even "Grandma."
reprinted from The Plain Dealer, January 24, 1997
In honor of the opening of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum Jane Scott wrote a number of articles covering four decades of Rock history, we now present these selections courtesy of the Plain Dealer.
all articles reprinted with permission from The Plain Dealer
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