“Scott! We want Scott!” was the yell that rose from the throats of thousands of bodybuilding fans at the latest Mr. Olympia contest. The only trouble was, there was no Scott to be had. At the previous Mr. Olympia Larry told those who had just seen him win his second consecutive Olympia crown that he was retiring. Funny thing about people, they don’t believe what they don’t want to believe. They wanted to see Larry go on forever, so as far as they were concerned Scott would compete again.
“Scott, Scott, we want Scott!” went the chanting. Finally Bud Parker stepped to the microphone to tell them what they already knew—Larry Scott had retired.
Luckily the splendor of the physiques present soon made everyone’s attention center on the contests at hand.
Sure Scott wasn’t there, but where was he? What was he doing? Those and many more questions were on the mind of Joe Weider as he came up to me backstage.
“What’s Larry doing now?” asked Joe.
“Well, I talked to him on the phone last week and he said he’d cut down on his training and had dropped down to about 170 pounds.”
Joe’s mouth dropped open.
“I know,” I said. “It doesn’t sound possible, but several people have told me it’s so.”
“Good grief, what does he look like?”
After winning the first Mr. Olympia title at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, Larry warmed up the already blazing crowd with his bright and infectious demeanor and intelligent words of gratitude over the emcee’s mic.
“I dunno,” I shrugged. “The last time I saw him in person was at a posing exhibition he gave around six
“What did he look like?” asked Joe.
“Better than I’ve ever seen him. He had cuts, size and shape. It’s hard to believe that he’s lost all the weight.”
Joe thought for a minute.
“I want you to see Larry when you get back to Muscle Beach.”
“Sure,” I replied. “That’s easy enough, then what?”
“I want you to do a human interest story on what he’s doing now.”
“But if he isn’t training hard or competing, do you think the readers will be interested?”
Joe smiled, “Dick, the only reason I’m in business is to give our readers what they want and you heard them out there, they want Scott. So, okay, let’s give them Larry Scott as he is today.”
As soon as I got back to California I called Larry at work and lined up a day when Art Zeller and I could
visit him at home. It was an overcast Sunday morning when Art and his cameras pulled into my driveway.
“Well, here we go,” he said cheerfully.
I got in his car and we were on our way. Art smiled as he looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “170 pounds. Who are you kidding?”
“Well, that’s just what I heard, but you can’t prove it by me.” In a few minutes we were in front of Scott’s home in Van Nuys.
Now we’d be able to see for ourselves what Larry Scott really looked like.
We went in the backyard and there was Larry, all 168 pounds of him, digging trenches for his sprinklers. His shirt was off, revealing the greatest set of 168 pounds I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe that’s all he weighs. I’ll bet he could enter a contest right now and win against the best. It just shows you that once you’ve built quality muscles with quality methods, they stay even if you try to beat them away.
When I first knew Larry he weighed just a little less than 168, but he didn’t look like that, even though he was quite muscular at the time. Now, at the same bodyweight he looked incredible, so bodyweight means less than you think. Quality is the thing to strive for.
The backyard looks like a small football field. In fact, it’s so large the previous owners fenced off a full half of it because it was too big to take care of properly.
“Where’s the team?” I asked.
“The one that plays football.”
Larry smiled, ”Yeah, I guess it is pretty large, but I like a lot of room to move around.”
Art looked up from the camera he was adjusting. “Why don’t you put in a pool?”
Suddenly, in the midst of our conversation, a giant bear (well, it looked like a bear) leapt at Larry. A struggle ensued as we stood transfixed by the sight. Over and over the struggling forms rolled. At last we could see that it wasn’t a bear but a dog as big as a bear.
“How do you like our pup?” said Larry at last.
Art turned white. “You mean it gets larger?”
I laughed bravely…from inside the house. The minute I saw the beast I hit the trail to safety.
“Larry,” I said, “is it true that you’ve given up all training?”
“Of course not, I’ll train as long as I live. It’s just that I’ve cut down a great deal on my workouts.”
“How often do you train now?”
Larry shrugged. “Whenever I feel like it.”
“Well, how often do you feel like it?”
“One, two, or three times a week.”
“Why did you decide to lose all that weight?” asked Art.
“The weight? Because I want to go into acting.”
“You mean you’ve given up bodybuilding?” I asked.
“For competition, yes. In fact, I’ll go so far as to say I’ll probably never even give an exhibition again. It takes too much time and energy to get in top shape.”
“You’ve won everything anyway,” I said.
“Yes. For a long time I was consumed with the desire to be the best bodybuilder in the world. More than anything I wanted to win. My first Mr. Olympia victory was quite a thrill. When I won the second—the night I announced my retirement—I was happy, but I felt a little hollow. The kicks were gone. The great challenge had been answered.”
“Now, you have another challenge?”
“Well, why not?” said Art. “After all, look at all the musclemen who have made it big in films.”
“I don’t want to do just a muscleman in films. I want to be an actor. I’ve found that it takes every bit as much concentration to master the emotional techniques of acting as it does the physical ones of bodybuilding.
Right now I’m ready to test the water.”
“And the loss of weight helps?”
“Yes. If muscle is too large it must be explained by the part you’re doing. This, of course, limits you in your choice of roles.”
“Then you don’t believe a good physique helps?”
“Sure it does, but it must be a bonus that can be used when needed. I’ve had a background in gymnastics and bodybuilding that will help me if I’m ever called upon to do my own stunts. I also practice on the trampoline I have in the backyard so that I can keep supple.”
The hours went by and before we knew it, it was time to go. Before we left I took one last look at Scott’s trophy room which was filled with plaques, trophies, scrolls and crowns, testimonies to his immortality in bodybuilding. I couldn’t help but wonder what an Oscar on the shelf would look like.
Life is Mr. Olympia, his dog and his bike in sunny California.