Remembering Jane Scott, 92, the World's Oldest Teenager and Cleveland's First Rock 'n' Roll Reporter

Jane Scott, a longtime Lakewood resident, died this morning at age 92, according to an obituary published in The Plain Dealer.

She had already passed her 71st birthday in 1990, when I first met her at a wedding reception backstage at the Cleveland Agora before a Ratt concert.

The bride and groom, who had met and fallen in love at a previous Ratt concert, exchanged vows on stage with the glam-metal band’s drum set as a backdrop and an ordained minister presiding.

Then the newlyweds, a few invited guests and the media – Jane with the Plain Dealer and I with the Elyria Chronicle-Telegram – were whisked backstage by the Agora's marketing manager, Johan, a.k.a. Linas Johansonas, for a mini-reception with members of Ratt.

I had seen Jane at plenty of rock shows before that, of course. She looked out of place in clothes befitting her age – like a wool coat with fur collar - and her professionalism as a reporter. She always carried an oversized bag that brought to mind the term “bag lady.” It didn’t occur to me back then that she was being true to herself and her own sense of style.

About a year after the Ratt wedding, I saw Jane at a relatively small section of the I-X Center, where pop singer Richard Marx held a promotional event. The teen idol noticed Jane in the crowd, called out her name and made a fuss over her.

Jane put such recognition from rock stars into perspective for me: These people are not my friends. They are using me to get publicity, just as I am using them to get a story.

Time proved that the rock stars still expressed their love for her, even when she could no longer give them publicity.

In her later years, after retirement, rock stars as huge as Bruce Springsteen continued to gush when Jane showed up at their shows.

I became aware of some of Jane’s other quirks after I started working at the Plain Dealer in 1992. She liked to say that she bowled under an assumed name. She always carried a peanut butter sandwich – often flattened by other contents of her huge bag. She often dozed off while working on a story.

I remember the first time I found her sleeping in the news research room (a.k.a. library), seated in front of a computer monitor, where she had been looking for stories from the electronic archives.  Her fingers were still in a typing position on the keyboard. She had leaned over so that her nose and forehead rested on the keyboard.

The librarian told me not to worry. Jane was just taking an impromptu nap.

When I started covering Christian music for the paper, Jane became intrigued with the subject and accompanied me to a couple of concerts.

She got out her pen and reporter’s notebook and furiously scribbled notes during a Christian rock concert featuring DCTalk. While one of the opening acts played a rousing number, Jane and her pen suddenly became still. She had fallen asleep.

A couple of songs later, she resumed taking notes without realizing she had missed a beat or 20.

Security personnel, who protect the performers from their fans during performances, greeted Jane like she was a rock star. At her request, they took us backstage or onto tour buses - without the mandatory all-access passes – to meet the artists.

She retired in 2002, a few weeks before her 83rd birthday. A year or two later, I took her to a concert at Beachland Ballroom. The headliner was an aging Irish punk band, whose name I don’t recall. My son’s band, Machine Go Boom, was the opening act. Sandwiched between the two was Cobra Verde, fronted by the Plain Dealer’s John Petkovic.

Jane was the image of a little old lady when I picked her up for the show. She was slightly bent over and walked at tortoise speed.

That all changed at the Ballroom.

Jane’s posture improved dramatically when the doorkeeper immediately recognized her and became visibly excited. She held court with fans – her fans, not fans of any of the bands – in the adjacent Beachland Tavern, while I kept watch over her coat and famous bag in the ballroom.

When the headliner took the stage, Jane danced her way to join the mosh pit and get a closer look at the Irishmen.

Jane Scott returned home that evening aglow and holding fast to her title as the world’s oldest teenager.