(BALTIMORE – May 3, 2026) – I met Robbie at Morehouse.
When you’re 700 miles from home and you run into a homeboy—somebody who understands you before you say a word—that’s a bond that holds.
Robbie stayed in Atlanta. I made my way back to Baltimore.
But we stayed in touch.
Over time, I came to know his father.
O. Patrick Scott.
It took years before I realized they were father and son.
When I found out, it made perfect sense.
O. Patrick Scott was not just a man.
He was an institution.
A visual artist and graphic designer whose work helped shape political campaigns in Baltimore and beyond for nearly half a century—dating back to 1968, long before the digital age. He designed for local, state, and federal candidates, often lending his talent to those who could not afford to pay.
His work lived at the intersection of art and power—where messaging, movement, and community meet.
At Morgan State University, he spent more than two decades building infrastructure for Black artistic expression—serving as Director of the Murphy Fine Arts Center and Chair of the Department of Art. In that role, he helped shape generations of artists, many of whom would go on to influence Baltimore’s cultural landscape.
He later served as Chairman of the Board at Sojourner-Douglass College, where he helped develop both undergraduate and graduate curricula in Political Campaign Management—creating pathways for future strategists, organizers, and leaders.
This was a man who didn’t just participate in systems.
He built them.
And then there is the Goon Squad.
Formed in 1967, the Goon Squad was a coalition of Black thinkers and doers—pastors, professors, lawyers, judges, and organizers—who approached justice as both a calling and a responsibility.
Their ranks included Parren J. Mitchell, Joseph C. Howard, Vernon Dobson, and others who helped shape the moral and political direction of Baltimore.
They had no formal structure.
No titles that mattered.
No interest in recognition.
Only work.
They assessed community needs, identified injustice, and acted—collectively. It was never “I.” Always “we.”
Over time, that circle grew smaller.
And now, with the passing of O. Patrick Scott, the last of them is gone.
But the work is not.
The legacy lives in Baltimore’s institutions.
In its artists.
In its political infrastructure.
In the people who were taught, mentored, and shaped by his presence.
And it lives in Robbie.
Robbie has always carried a deep respect for Black history—especially the kind rooted in real struggle, real organizing, and real outcomes.
He didn’t just tell stories about the Goon Squad.
He carried their lessons.
So this is not just a tribute.
It is a prayer.
That the legacy is carried forward.
That the work continues.
That what was built is not forgotten.
On behalf of our Morehouse family, we send our love and prayers to the Scott family.
O. Patrick Scott was a legend.
An artist.
An architect of political expression.
A builder of institutions.
A servant of community.
A man who helped bend Baltimore toward justice.
A luta continua.
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