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His career started in high school and whisked him off almost immediately to the St. Louis Municipal Opera, where he was in the chorus for South Pacific and Fiddler on the Roof. That led to an audition for a bus-and-truck tour of No, No, Nanette. He was told telephonically, "Fly out tonight" and got the job his first day in New York, fresh from the Midwest. After six months with the tour he began his bi-coastal existence in Los Angeles with an Anne Bancroft TV special, some summer stock, and continuous improvement of his technique. At times Tim is hard on himself, but it's an attitude that takes him nowhere but up, because the end result is just that — up. It might be called perfectionism.

In 1976, this "upness" brought him into the international company of A Chorus Line: Toronto, London, San Francisco, Washington, Miami, Detroit and finally the New York company where he remained in the role of Mark until 1978, when he went off to Athens and then Hawaii as a choreographer for none other than IBM, in some industrial projects.

Hooked on dancing, a body's gotta dance.

At the age of 23, Tim opened on Broadway in a short-lived musical, King of Hearts, based on the film of the same name. He danced for six weeks as Guy Louis, a French sailor, that brought him the privilege of a can-can solo.

He said he made his "decision to be successful" as a member of the first national company of Bob Fosse's Dancin' which brought him to Chicago, Los Angeles and New York with great reviews, Gwen Verdon, Posse — all of which "taught me a lot."

Henry Winkler came backstage one evening with an invitation to return to the West Coast, where Winkler introduced Tim to some folks at Paramount, which led to TV exposure on "Laverne and Shirley" and Baryshnikov among his experiences.

During this three-year period in California, Shields and Yarnell invited him to be their special guest in Monte Carlo where he performed in the spring of 1980, after which he took the opportunity to travel to other parts of Europe. Tim would dazzle his new European acquaintances by spontaneously bursting into song and dance the narrow, cobblestone streets, seemingly unable to contain all his exuberance.

Then it was back to the West Coast and a period "in between jobs that are worthwhile, working for the sake of working, dealing with insecurity, asking 'Am I good enough?' and telling myself 'Gee, I can't do it!', playing the same mental games as Mark in Chorus Line," Tim recalls.

Well, this working-for-the-sake-of-working brought him to a bit part in the film version of Annie where Tim Curry was also wasted and a memorable Dr. Pepper commercial — remember the Fred Astaire takeoff with people dancing on walls?

In January of 1982, Tim was finally offered the first role that he "could sink his teeth into since Bob Fosse's 'Dancin'. " He was back on Broadway in the role created by Wayne Sleep in the London company of Cats, but Tim is not Wayne Sleep. Backstage he becomes the magical cat who dances by the light of the Moon:

He is quiet and small, he is black
from his ears to the tip of his tail
he can creep through the tiniest crack
he can walk on the narrowest rail

—and make a dazzling entrance as the go-between, Mr. Mistoffelees, who is the "original conjuring cat," revealing the secrets that make magic so easy.

His dressing room overflows with pictures of cats and vibration that stirs the blood. Who needs to know why? Tim talks about the death of a close friend that he was confronted with over the holidays. He is there anyway learning about death and rebirth — for that seems to be the secret of Cats. Just ask Mr. Mistoffelees:

And you all say "oh"
Well I never
was there ever
a cat so clever
as Mr. Mistoffelees

Of course it's difficult dealing with a role and grueling choreography eight times a week — although it does look easy, not to mention, that it is a magical mystery romp through humanity. Cats are people, too. As in Cats.

In an overpriced but nicely decorated Mexican restaurant on West 69th Street, Tim speaks about what the magic has done for him and, subsequently, his plans for the future, no matter the kind of junkyard you find them in, a cat definitely has more than one life.

In future lives, Tim wants to do film "more than anything," and the opportunity to do a TV series to create his own dance — the seed of which was planted in his experience with the Gary Marshall team where he wanted to create a tap-dancing character for that scion of network television, an idea cut short by his new life as Mr. Mistoffelees.

Since recording the American cast album of Cats for David Geffen to be released at the end of this month, Mistoffelees, I mean Tim, has plans for recording on his own with songwriter/producer Matt Vernon who is now working with novice recording artist, Melanie Winter. He liked his sound and has developed a preference for records. Sound notwithstanding, the sight ain't bad either.

As the director, Trevor Nunn said, "We are fascinated by cats, for a multitude of reasons, but most of all because in a mysterious way they allow us more clearly to see ourselves." T.S. Eliot knew it and Andrew Lloyd Webber's music lets us know. The moon goddess Pasht with her Egyptian sidekicks was a right-on woman. Just ask Tim Scott, the magical dancer:

And you all say "Oh"
Well I never
Was there ever
A cat so clever

The Original Conjuring Cat: A Tribute to Timothy Scott
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