At 5 a.m. it was still dark in the Sequatchie Valley. James I. Scales, 17, rose as usual from his dormitory bed in a Negro reformatory 69 miles northeast of Chattanooga. James was a trusty. He dressed and crossed the cold yard to the bungalow of Superintendent H. E. Scott, where he usually helped the womenfolk with the daily chores. But on this morning, there was a change in routine. Superintendent Scott was away in Nashville.
At 9 a.m. Assistant Superintendent W. S. Neil knocked & knocked at the Scott door. He got...
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