My time with Jesse Scott

As a cub reporter in 1976, I didn't have the opportunity to cross paths with The Rev. Jesse Scott, a civil rights icon in Las Vegas who died last week at the age of 90.

But when I became editor of the Las Vegas Review-Journal in 1988, he dropped by the newsroom to scope me out and talk about the issues of the day. I remember as we shook hands he said something like:

"You're a young man!"

Not sure what he expected -- a Spencer Tracy figure, perhaps, chomping on a cigar, with shirt sleeves rolled up and wearing a green eye shade? A lot of people think newspaper editors should look grizzled and periodically yell: "Sweetheart, get me rewrite!"

The Rev. Scott was 68 or so at the time, and I was a baby-faced 36, so I suppose his surprise was fair enough. But it was what he said next that left an impression.

"You're a young man!" he exclaimed. "You could do some good in this community."

I probably said something clumsy, like, "Yes, sir, that's the plan."

After small talk over a cup or two of bad newspaper coffee, we settled into a substantial conversation, no doubt touching on the proper role of government, a nation of laws and what that means for equal opportunity (his emphasis), not necessarily equal outcomes (my emphasis). As we came to know each other, our differing approaches were epitomized by The Rev. Scott at one point telling me in no uncertain terms that he thought the Review-Journal's editorials were too conservative.

I told him they weren't conservative enough.

Our paths crossed many times over the years. He was stubborn, but always cordial. While we almost always found ourselves coming at the problems of the day from different paths, there was a time when we stood together -- in 1990, during a controversy involving Charles Bush, a black man who died after being put in a headlock by plainclothes Metro officers. The Review-Journal drove the coverage of that incident, exploring the legality of the entry into Bush's motel room and the force used to end his life.

Our coverage was extensive -- too extensive for some. At one point, Metro officers and supporters of Metro officers picketed in front of the Review-Journal. One of the signs in the crowd read: "Sherman Frederick Resign."

Luckily for me, my publisher at the time, Dave Osborn, didn't see it that way. Amid some community pressure, he backed the newspaper's coverage and editorials 100 percent.

It was a gritty time filled with much local tension, especially in the black community, represented in part by The Rev. Scott. In many ways, I think, it marked the beginning of the end of what might be called "cowboy" policing in Clark County, a carry over from the Ralph Lamb days, when virtually everything the police did resulted in a circling of the wagons in blind support of the force.

The Rev. Scott effectively made the point that this no-questions-asked reaction left the black community fearful and isolated.

The Nevada attorney general at the time, Frankie Sue Del Papa, stepped into the fray when the Clark County district attorney declined to prosecute the officers. It was an extraordinary move. And while she didn't win the case at trial -- the jury hung -- she exhibited a kind of courage that I am convinced cost her significant political support.

Anyway, I last saw Jesse Scott a little more than a year ago when he dropped by the Review-Journal to attend the launch party of "Black Image," a monthly magazine available free by request to Review-Journal subscribers. It's a lifestyle magazine I helped create in partnership with Charles Tureaud and Kimberly Bailey-Tureaud.

At the gathering, The Rev. Scott and I found ourselves chatting about old times and the need to chronicle the stories of Las Vegas gone by.

That's when I took the opportunity to remind him that when we first met he said I was young and "could" do some good in this community.

Holding up a copy of "Black Image," I said, "How am I doing?"

"You're doin' good," he said. Then he smiled and complained, for the umpteenth time, about those conservative Review-Journal editorials.

Consistent to the end. I was very glad to have known Jesse Scott.

One more thing ...

Because you're good enough to read this column when it comes to your home, as you are doing now, I thought I should use a small amount of newsprint to tell you that my prostate and I plan to part ways this summer.

After a few years of the obligatory tests most men go through, then a recent biopsy, doctors told me I have cancer, and surgery is the proper course of action.

So, early this summer, my prostate will go one way, and I'll go the other. With a little luck, the cancer will go with it, not me. I wanted you to know.

I guess when the new Jesse Scotts of the world drop by the office now, it'll be official: I am that Spencer Tracy vintage guy.

So, I'll have to practice asking someone to "get me rewrite!" Not sure HR will let me use the word "sweetheart." Do they even sell green eye shades any more?

Sherman Frederick (sfrederick@ reviewjournal.com) is publisher of the Las Vegas Review-Journal and president of Stephens Media.