The Incredible Rise of a Gorbals Gangster

by Colin MacFarlane

  Buchanan was on the bus, all done up in his conductor’s gear. “Fares please! Fares please!” He was collecting the fares and sticking them into a bag which hung around his belt. Buchanan, as usual, looked like he had a hangover. He was a small rotund man, in his early thirties, with red receding hair. Johnny sat down on the upper deck.

  Buchanan approached, “Fares please! Oh, it’s you Johnny you can have this ride for nothing. You off to Househillwood?”

  Johnny shook his head, “Nah, ah came on here tae have a wee word wi’ you.”

  Buchanan, like his wife, looked nervous, beads of sweat fell from his head. “A wee word. What about?”

  Johnny whispered, “Your cousin, Sam.”

  Buchanan fumbled with the change in his bag, as if stalling for time, and then said, “Ok look we cannae talk about it now, too many people around. Call up to ma house at 6pm tonight and we’ll have a natter. Fares please! Fares Please!”

  Johnny got off the bus, just up the road, at Eglinton Toll, he went into the Star Bar for a pint. He liked the place, it had a sort of 1940s décor which hadn’t changed over the years. But like all Gorbals boozers it had an unpredictable atmosphere. Some elderly men were at table playing dominoes when suddenly one of the shouted, “Ya cheating bastard, ye,” and overturned the table in a rage. Johnny sunk his pint quickly and decided to make a fast exit. He thought people in the Gorbals would fight about anything, even a daft wee game of dominoes.

  Later he was at Buchanan’s front door bang on 6pm. His obese wife once again answered, still dressed in her bathing robe and curlers. She shouted in a gruff voice, “Rab, that Johnny fella is here again.”

  Rab appeared, still chewing his dinner. “Come away in. What’s the score? How can ah help you?” He looked well fed and confident but there was still an air of nervousness about him.

  Johnny was straight to the point, “Ah just wanted a word wi’ your cousin Sam. How can ah get hold of him?”

  Buchanan looked even more nervous, “That’s what the polis have been asking in aw the Gorbals pubs. Look if ah knew where he was, I’d tell you. Fancy a cuppa?”

  Johnny accepted his offer, “Thanks Rab, milk and two sugars.”

  Buchanan put two mugs of tea on the kitchen table with a packet of Jammy Dodgers. The tea and biscuits seemed to cheer him up and eradicated the nervousness he had shown. They talked about irrelevant things like football and pubs then Buchanan’s mood seemed to change.

  “Dae ye really want to talk to ma cousin Sam?” Johnny took a sip of his tea and replied, “Sure do, Rab”

  Buchanan rose from the table and said, “Follow me.”

  He led Johnny into the back bedroom where there was a large double bed. Johnny wondered what was going on, then Buchanan whispered in the direction of the bed, “Sam, come out. My old pal Johnny McGrath is here to see you.”

  Suddenly Sam McGlinchy appeared from under the bed. “What the hell are you doing here?” Johnny said in astonished bewilderment.

  “What do you think? Ah’m hiding fae the polis. That robbery was a fuck up.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “Brian, Peter, Alex, Chris and a new guy, McCoy got me in as the getaway driver. I nicked a motor for the job. We turned up at Gorbals Cross as planned and the auld Jewish guy came out with his sack of money. The boys surrounded him and tried to grab the bag. But the Jew was no mug and put up a fight. Next minute McCoy pulled out a revolver and shot the fucker. I never knew McCoy had a gun, nobody told me. Anyway, we left the auld Jew bleeding on the pavement and sped off with the money. But the polis were quick on the scene and chased us in a panda car all the way to Castlemilk. We bolted out the car and left the bag of cash in it. I had a place to hide, my auntie who lives in a council house nearby. But the rest of the boys weren’t as lucky. After a couple of hours scouring the place, the polis arrested all of the boys except me.”

  Johnny was taken aback by the story, his instinct had been right about McCoy, “What about the gun?

  “During the car chase McCoy threw it out the window intae undergrowth on the edge of Castlemilk. The polis got the money fae the car and ah’ve got no doubt they’ll find the gun. It was a real shambles, ah would never have done the job if ah knew McCoy had a gun. I’m in this mess all because they offered me a measly hundred quid to be the getaway driver.”

  Johnny shook his head, “A hundred quid is that all?”

  Sam nodded, “A hundred quid was promised once they shared the money out. Now ah’ve got fuck all and face years in jail.”

  Rab Buchanan knew it was a hopeless situation but made an attempt to lighten the matter, “Don’t worry Sammy boy, we’ll hide you until the coast is clear and the heat is off.”

  Johnny asked, “So what’s you battle plan once the heat dies down?

  Sam suddenly looked confident, “Ah’ve got an auntie an uncle in Donegal wi’ a wee farm. I’ll sneak over to Ireland on the ferry and hide out there for a while.”

  Johnny said he was glad Sam had an exit plan. He wished him luck, shook his hand, and left the flat.

  As he did so Buchanan put his fingers to his lips and said, “Lips sealed, Johnny”

  “Aye, nae problem Rab, your secret is safe wi’ me,” Johnny replied.

  Johnny went into the fading sunlight of Eglinton Street and breathed in the fresh air. “Drama brings meaning to life” he said to himself as he walked towards Crown Street.

  That night at 10pm, Johnny got the Daily Record from Peter. The front page headline was: THE MOST WANTED MAN IN SCOTLAND.

  Underneath it was a large picture of Sam McGlinchy.

  Chapter Five

  FERRY

  It wasn’t a very lucky time for Sam McGlinchy and the rest of the boys. The old Jewish guy had died. The papers went full blast, “Ivan Solomon was a victim of Nazi persecution. He came to the Gorbals area of Glasgow in the early 1950s. He had spent five years in Nazi concentration camps. Friends knew him as a fighter who got through life with a great sense of humour. He often boasted that nothing could beat him, not even Hitler. He arrived in Glasgow with a few pounds in his pocket and built up a successful wholesale business in the Gorbals. Through his hard work he became a leading light in Scotland’s Jewish community and a millionaire. He lived with his wife and two grown up children in the wealthy area of Giffnock, Glasgow.

  “But tragically, this man who had survived the concentration camps had his life taken away by a gunman in the Gorbals, last Friday afternoon. Several local men have been arrested and police are hunting for another man, Sam McGlinchy in connection with the brutal murder and robbery.”

  The next bit was more worrying for Sam, “The Jewish community has put up a £10,000 reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of McGlinchy. They have even hired private detectives in an attempt to capture the fugitive – known as Scotland’s most wanted man.

  Dave Cohen, a spokesman for the appeal said, “Our brother has been taken from us in a cold calculated criminal act. We will not rest until the suspect on the run has been arrested and convicted of Ivan’s heinous murder.

  “The Jewish community has been quick to raise the £10,000 reward and our team of private detectives are leaving no stone unturned to find this man.”

  Underneath the story was not one, but three pictures of Sam McGlinchy. Johnny read the paper and thought, “Sam has landed himself right in it. 10,000 quid and a team of private detectives after him. It sounds like something from a James Bond movie.”

  Dave Cohen also appeared on television and radio accentuating the appeal. Johnny had to admit the Jews were smart intelligent people and it was a folly to mess with them. They had the money, the power and connections to be a force to be reckoned with. The three things that Sam McGlinchy did not have and would never aspire to.

  Johnny wondered when McGlinchy would make his dash for Ireland and thought he had to do it quickly as the Gorbals was swarming with police and private detectives.

  He decided not to go back
to Buchanan’s flat as it might implicate him leading to years in jail as an accessory. The best plan was to wait and see. Stay well clear.

  Rab Buchanan looked at the report, and the coverage on the telly, and gulped, he had to get Sam out of the way as soon as possible. He knew his house could be raided at any time and if it was he’d lose his job and his freedom.

  He went into the bedroom and whispered “Sam, time tae make a move!” Sam came out from under the mattress and said, “What are we gonnae dae, Rab? They’ve got ten grand on ma head, and all those polis and private detectives are after me. Ah’ve got no chance.”

  Rab agreed, “The odds are no’ good Sam but we’ll find a way to get you out of town, pronto.”

  Sam looked desperate, “Get me the fuck out of here and get me on the boat to Ireland, I’ll be ok there. I can hide and change my name and all that palaver.”

  Rab replied, “Easier said than done Sam, let me check out a few things.”

  He left the room and McGlinchy went back under the bed. About half an hour later Buchanan came into the room and sounded more optimistic, “Sam, ah’ve been doing a few checks and there is an early boat leaving Stranraer going to Larne in Ireland tomorrow morning. I’ll get you there in my mini van”

  In the early hours of the morning, it was pitch dark as both men climbed into the little van. Sammy had been instructed to wear a flat cap to hide part of his face. On the way there, Rab told him to lie in the back covered by a blanket. As the van took off there was not a soul about. Rab drove through the Gorbals to Stranraer.

  When they got there Rab gave Sam £20 and said, “I think you should be ok. The polis and detectives will be aw over the Gorbals looking for you. But ah don’t imagine that they’d think of you heading tae Ireland. But you never know, the polis and the Jews are fly bastards.”

  They shook hands and Sam went to the ticket counter. A little fat woman did not even blink as she took the money and gave Sam his ferry ticket.

  Sam felt content, so far so good. It was deathly cold as he boarded the boat. He sat down on a bench on the deck looking at the ocean “Ireland here I come,” he muttered. There was still half an hour to go before the boat sailed and more people got on board. Several families with noisy and screaming children and a group of Irishmen. The Irishmen were singing The Wild Rover and glugging from bottles of whiskey. One of them spotted Sam and shouted, “Hey fella, come and join us for a good auld Irish dram.”

  Sam quickly worked out that if he joined the gang of Irishmen he could merge in, be less conspicuous, and people would think he was one of them.

  He went over to take part in their drinking session. One of them shouted, “Come on pal, have a wee drink on us, Irish hospitality!” He was then handed a bottle of Bushmill’s whiskey and took a slug. He felt better straight away.

  After hiding under a mattress, to this! It was Utopia.The whiskey had a beautiful affect on his demeanour.

  The ferry still had 15 minutes to depart. Suddenly Sammy felt a wave of shock coming through his body. It came from his balls right up to his head. While the Irishmen were singing, a Jewish guy come on board and glanced around. He looked like a real Orthodox Jew with a beard. He was dressed in a big black hat, a black suit and white shirt, what the fuck was he doing on a boat going to Ireland?

  But after a few minutes, and another slug of the whiskey, the Jewish guy had disappeared. Paranoia! Sam thought it was turning out to be a beautiful day. He loved the Irish. They certainly knew how to enjoy themselves and they did not give a damn about those who didn’t.

  He began to daydream, He would work hard on his relatives’ farm in Donegal, meet an Irish girl, get married and settle down. Have a couple of kids and live a life which could never have achieved in the Gorbals.

  Suddenly he heard footsteps coming towards him. There were six policemen. One of them said, “Sam McGlinchy?” Sam replied, “No you’ve got the wrong fella. My name is Sean McGrory.” As he replied he put on a strong Irish accent he had perfected after being at school with so many Irish kids in the Gorbals.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are kidding, McGlinchy?” the policeman shouted. “I am arresting you in connection with murder and robbery. You do not have to say anything…”

  Sam was handcuffed and led off the boat. The drunken Irishmen shouted at the coppers, “Leave the boy alone, ya polis bastards. He’s done fuck all wrong.”

  As the Black Maria trundled towards Glasgow, Sam felt strangely relieved. He felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders. He had got rid of the monkey on his back.

  Later Johnny was in the Turf Bar in Hospital Street and having a conversation with an old fellow about a forthcoming Old Firm match. The fellow said, “Celtic will trounce those orange bastards, wait and see, a doddle for the Bhoys.”

  Johnny agreed but suddenly spat out the beer in his mouth. A picture of McGlinchy appeared on the television screen. It was the same wee bird presenter. She looked ravishing, “Scotland’s most wanted man was arrested this morning on a ferry in Stranraer ready to sail to Larne in Ireland.”

  Johnny uttered, “For fuck’s sake!”

  The old Celtic supporter looked at him and said, “Dae ye know that boy?”

  “Johnny replied, “Aye, kinda.”

  The old man shook his head, “I’ll tell you what, they’ll throw the book at that poor bastard.” Johnny had no option but to agree.

  The next morning Johnny received a letter from Alex in Barlinnie prison. It was short and straight to the point. It had to be. Alex wasn’t daft enough to give anything away to the authorities who scanned such letters.

  “Hi Johnny, on a wee holiday courtesy of the Queen. Can you come and visit me? I’ve arranged a pass for you.”

  Johnny laughed, wee Alex had a great sense of humour – most Gorbals people do in situations of adversity.

  On the day of the visit Johnny got a Corporation bus to Barlinnie. As he walked up the road to the jail, and a huge Victorian door, a sense of dread came over him. He was searched and led into a side room where other people were waiting. There was a large gypsy-looking Irishman sitting with thick black hair who seemed to be brooding

  To cut the ice, Johnny initiated the conversation. “It’s a drag coming up here. Came tae see wan o’ ma pals.” The big fellow replied, “Oh aye, what’s he in for?”

  Johnny said,” That auld Jew robbery.”

  The big fellow grimaced, “Same here. Ma boy is up on the same charge.”

  Johnny was intrigued, “What’s his name?”

  “Joe McCoy”

  Johnny felt a shiver go through his spine. A prison guard shouted, “Right you can go in now, but no’ discussing any cases.”

  He was led into a large room where about a dozen inmates were at tables. He saw Alex and sat at the other side of his table. He spotted McCoy at another table. McCoy gave a weak smile and nodded to Johnny. Johnny reciprocated with no great feeling either way.

  He said to wee Alex, “What’s the score man?”

  Alex shrugged his shoulders, “Ah cannae really discuss it here, prison rules and aw that, but ah’ve been done up like a kipper.”

  There was a vigilant guard nearby, so Johnny whispered, “Ah know Alex but ye were mental to take part in the first place.”

  Alex screwed his face up in an almost comical manner. He whispered back, “Two witnesses. Find out who they are and sort it for me.”

  Johnny replied confidently, “Nae problem Alex, leave it tae me.”

  The meeting had been short but effective. Johnny would not let down wee Alex and the boys. Suddenly he was a man on a mission. A mission to defeat the scales of justice.

  Chapter Six

  FAVOUR

  Johnny always maintained that his word was his bond. But how was he to find out who the two witnesses were? The police had kept them a closely guarded secret. It was then he had a lightbulb moment. Ping! Sure, there was his auntie, Agnes McAuley, a woman in her late 50s. They had not talked for years after his mother f
ell out with her at the bingo.

  For the past ten years Agnes, a widow who lived alone, had been a cleaner at Glasgow Central Police Station. Johnny went to Agnes’ house in Florence Street and knocked on the door. He knew that she was a secret drinker who never went to pubs but was often seen at the off licence buying a bottle of her favourite tipple – Lanliq wine. Johnny had secured a half bottle and when she opened the door her lonely eyes lit up when Johnny said, “Agnes, a quick social call, wi’ a wee present for you.” He noticed that Agnes’ breath smelt of stale booze. “Well it’s a surprise tae see you here. You’ve no’ been in ma hoose since ye were a young boy. Ah’m sorry ah fell out wi’ yir ma - ah cannae even remember why we fell out. Anyway, what are ye doing turning up at ma door after all these years?”

  Johnny replied, “Ah wanted to ask ye a wee favour, darlin’.”

  Agnes was suspicious, “Oh aye, and what would this favour be?” She went over to the kitchen table and poured herself a glass of wine. Johnny noticed her hands were shaking, “Well ah want tae know who the two witnesses are in the auld Jew robbery.”

  He explained, “You work at the polis headquarters cleaning their offices. I just thought you might have heard something.”

  She smiled, “Son, ah’m a cleaner for goodness sake, no wan of the CID. But ah’ll tell you what, ah’ll keep my eyes and ears open for ye, that’s the most ah can promise.”

  Johnny was pleased, “Agnes you’ve got a great heart. I’ll tell ma maw tae try and square it up wi’ you. This argument has been going on far too long.”

  Agnes drank some more of the wine, “Ok Johnny, see what ye can dae. And ah’ll see what I can dae. You scratch ma back and I’ll scratch yours!” He left the tenement flat feeling instinctively that Agnes would not let him down.

  A couple of days later Johnny was in the Cleland Bar pondering the situation when a drunk young guy staggered over to him and shouted, “Who are you looking at? Dae ye want a picture, ya tube ye?” Johnny had never seen the guy before and replied, “You’re too ugly tae take a picture, ya bampot.”