The Incredible Rise of a Gorbals Gangster

by Colin MacFarlane

  “So, what next?”

  “It’s a waiting game. The union guy says around two months and then it might be sorted. Meanwhile, ah’ll try for part time waiting work in a restaurant up the toon. What about you? Still got money fae your wee pools win?”

  “Aye, but it’s running down now, ah had a couple o’ scams on the go and it built up ma nest egg but it’ll no’ last forever. Maybe like you, ah’ll give it a couple of months and start looking for work.”

  “It’s hard work, looking for hard work!” his father joked.

  “Ah’ve got a confession as well,” Johnny said.

  “Oh aye, what’s that?”

  “Got a wee bird pregnant after a drunken shag.”

  “So, what are ye gonnae dae about it?”

  “Nothing at the moment, nothing at all but, like you, ah’ll make a decision when the time is right”

  “Bloody hell Johnny, it’s all happening. Ah came in intae this pub as a father and ah’m leaving it as grandfather. They say a week is a long time in politics, well an hour is a long time in the Gorbals!”

  They both left the pub in better spirits than when they entered. His father headed home and he went for a saunter towards Gorbals Cross. He was obviously on the look-out for McCoy and any of his vengeance squad. But it was comparatively quiet. Crowds of old ladies were coming out of the Palace bingo hall. Some of them looked elated and were shouting, “Wee Maggie’s won the snowball, 550 quid!” Winner Maggie appeared clutching a fistful of fivers and she and her pals jumped into a taxi, presumably to party all night and toast the magic of bingo.

  This bingo business! Many middle-aged women lived for it. They travelled from all over Glasgow for a night out at the Palace bingo hall. Ironically, a few yards away was the Citizen’s Theatre where middle class women, and their partners, went to see high-brow productions.

  Johnny often watched the crowds at night with the posh avant-garde women on their way to the theatre mingling with the working class women, some in curlers, on their way to the bingo. It was debateable who had the best night out, the snooty teachers who went to see productions such as A Lily in Little India, or the working class cleaners who enjoyed responding to shouts like, “Two fat ladies, 88” or “Clickety click, 66.” He thought that they should all swap places for one night only. Would the posh ladies enjoy themselves at the bingo? Would the working class women not equally enjoy themselves going to see a play? The jury was out on that one.

  As he looked at the crowd of women coming out of the bingo he heard one of them shout, “Johnny! Johnny!” It was Cathy’s mother. She certainly looked better than when he last saw her. She said, “Cathy’s been looking for you. She’s been around your usual haunts but no sign of you. Where have you been?”

  He smiled, “Ah got injured in a fight. But everything is hunky dory now. Tell her to meet me in Lombardi’s’ café about two tomorrow, and we’ll have a laugh, and an ice cream.”

  Cathy’s mother nodded and looked pleased. It was clear the news meant more to her than any bingo win. “Ok son. She’s got a lot to tell ye.”

  “Well ah hope it’s aw good news!”

  She smiled weakly and said mysteriously, “Ah’m sure it is son, for both of you.” She made off through the crowds. It was then he saw three men. But because of the bingo and theatre crowds they did not see him – it was McCoy, his father and another fellow. He felt the hammer in his waistband and moved through the hordes.

  He was ready to launch a major attack on the three men. But two beat Bobbies appeared outside the Citizen’s Theatre. Then another two appeared. He surmised that there was increased police presence because there had been a number of break- ins of cars belonging to the posh theatregoers. This had been the perfect time to strike and end the matter once and for all. He was confident that he could take the McCoy gang easily. But now, he was scuppered by the polis. The police were like buses, you didn’t see one for a while then loads of them turned up at one time. The McCoy gang made off when they saw the police. Johnny was frustrated, he had to let them go. Bastards! Inadvertently the constabulary had saved their skins.

  Later, he lay in bed reflecting on the day. He had enjoyed meeting his father, enjoyed seeing the wee woman after her bingo win, and enjoyed meeting Cathy’s mother. On further reflection, he had enjoyed not having to set about the McCoy gang. But the last thought slightly disturbed him. Was he getting soft? There was no room for softness in the Gorbals, unless you were a couch.

  Chapter 33

  ICE CREAM

  Johnny sat in Lombardi’s café at 2pm. He liked being punctual and he remembered what a teacher had told him at school – punctuality is the prerogative of kings. So King Johnny sat there and waited for Cathy. He drank his tea slowly and observed the Italian men behind the counter. He admired their work ethic. They opened the cafe in the early morning and closed late at night. They also had the best ice cream he had ever tasted. He found their accents comical, a mixture of Italian and Glaswegian which made them sound like Stanley Baxter in the TV comedy programme Parliamo Glasgow.

  When he entered the café one of the Italians announced, “Mama mia! It’s the Johnny boy fella, bene’.” Cathy was late, half an hour had gone and still no sign of her. He was about to give up when suddenly she rushed through the door. My god, she looked more beautiful than ever. Flaming red hair and glossy red lips. She was also wearing a dark dress that accentuated her voluptuous figure. She sat down opposite Johnny, kissed him on the cheek and said, “Where the fuck have you been? Ah’ve been all over the place looking for you. Ah was gonnae call to your house but ah decided to wait until ah bumped intae you.”

  He was taken aback by her beauty and her foul mouth only made her more attractive. Sure, she was a gangster’s daughter, a cut-above Lorraine whose father was a porter at Glasgow’s fish market, “You look like a star,” Johnny said. “Aye,” she replied, “I am a big star it’s just that the picture got smaller. So, where have you been hiding Johnny?”

  “I got injured in a gang fight, blade in the back. But ah’m all right now.”

  She looked furious, “Gang fight? Blade in the back? It’s time you grew up. You’re in your 20s, not fucking 12. It’s time you started acting like a man, a real man.”

  No-one had ever talked to him like that, not even his mother and father. In a way it turned him on, he felt like a scolded schoolboy as she continued her tirade, “I’ll get straight tae the point… no messing… ah’m pregnant with your baby.”

  For a few moments he was lost for words. “That night we spent together was different, Johnny. We did not shag, we made love. If you don’t want the baby ah’ll go tae Manchester or London and have an abortion. Ah’ll get rid of it, no bother.”

  He was lost for words but suddenly said, “Let’s have some ice cream and we’ll talk about it.” He ordered two ice cream snowballs and when the plates were placed on the table, Cathy mellowed a bit but she was still as hard as nails.

  “Mmm, nice” she said putting the ice cream into her mouth. “Plenty of men are after me, so really ah don’t have tae bother wi’ a no hoper like you.” When she got angry he noticed that her cheeks got redder and redder and her blue eyes flowed with intensity, making her look even more beautiful.

  He had never seen a woman look so fiery and beautiful at the same time. Lorraine, by contrast, was a pale imitation of the real thing. Cathy continued, “Forget about this love shite, stand up and do your duty like a man. Instead of running about like a numpty with all those other idiots.”

  He was not offended because he realised that she was talking to him like a wife. “So, Cathy what do you want me to do?” he said in a voice that sounded rather timid for him.

  “Either you marry me or you can get tae fuck. If you don’t ah’ll get rid of it and find another bloke. Someone who acts like a man. No’ a stupid wee boy who runs about the streets beating people up.”

  For the first time in his life he felt afraid. Was this the time he at last grew up? Be
came a grown man at last?

  “So, what’s the next move?” he said meekly.

  She thought for a moment, put the last spoonful of ice cream in her mouth and replied, “We’re gonnae get married and have a big reception paid for by you. If no’, get tae fuck.”

  She then continued with her ultimatum, “You’ve got 24 hours to make your mind up. I want a ring, no’ a wee cheap crappy one, but big and sparkling wi’ diamonds. So get your cash out.”

  He was flabbergasted but realised it was a key moment in his life, a moment he would never forget until his dying day.

  Cathy knew she had got the better of Johnny. She knew how to deal with the so called Gorbals hardmen. Her father was one, and she had learned how to play her dad like a violin from an early age.

  “Ma mother knows ah’m up the stick. Ah told her last week. She thinks you’re a nice boy, if only she knew the truth. A nice boy who goes about chibbing people! If she knew the real truth about you, she’d tell me tae drop you like a hot potato.”

  He tried to diffuse the situation, “So, how is your mother? She looked a lot better when ah saw her outside the bingo last night.”

  “She’s a lot better now that she knows ma father is coming back after hiding in Ireland.”

  Johnny gulped, “What, your father is coming back fae Ireland? When?”

  “In the next couple of weeks”

  “How do ye know?”

  She fetched a piece of paper from her handbag and put it on the table in front of him. It was a telegram – “Everything is fine. Will be back soon. Dad.” She smiled,” So that’s good news is it no’ Johnny? When he gets back we’ll tell him about the pregnancy and getting married. He’s been through a rough time recently and the news will put him on top of the world - if you grow up and play the game.”

  She got up, kissed him on the cheek, and left as quickly as she had come. Before she left, she said, “Remember, you’ve got 24 hours to man up. If no’, you are toast.” He felt a shiver go down his spine. The Irish fellow who had sent the first telegram must have sent another to cheer the family up and given them even more false hope. What a dilemma! What a pickle he had found himself in.

  He rose from the table slightly shaking and the Italian guy behind the counter said to him. “Wow, what a bird. Bellisimo!”

  “Too right, Giovanni,” Johnny replied, “But she’s got a fiery temper, a bit hard going at times.”

  Giovanni laughed, “Johnny boy, that woman is so good looking any fella in his right mind would put up with her fiery temper.”

  “I know that,” Johnny replied, nodding his head in agreement, “She even puts the wind up me and ah’m supposed tae be scared of nobody.”

  The Italian agreed and gave him some advice, “Listen, young fella, beauty has a price. All beautiful women are like that, they are works of art. They’re no like all those old dogs who put up wi’ any shite.”

  Johnny laughed, “Ah suppose you’re right, Giovanni, there’s a price to be paid for everything, even a beautiful work of art like Cathy.”

  Giovanni smiled and decided to take the mickey, “She needs to go to the opticians. Because ah don’t know what she sees in an ugly looking bastard like you!”

  Johnny took the ribbing well and shook his hand before leaving. But Giovanni had hit the proverbial nail on the head –what the hell was a beautiful woman like Cathy doing with a hooligan like him? Maybe she was right, it was time to man up, grow up and throw all this insane violent behaviour away for good.

  But his mind changed within seconds. Meanwhile, as a last hurrah, he had a few scores to settle with the McCoy gang. But the new telegram news seemed to haunt him. He walked up to the Irish club in Govanhill and looked for the fellow who had sent the first telegram.

  The barman said the guy had been in Ireland but expected him in that night. Johnny sat in a corner with his pint and sure enough half an hour later he walked in.

  “Welcome back fae Ireland! Let me buy you a pint of Guinness,” Johnny sad to him. “So how was the Emerald Isle, is your auntie getting better?

  “Aye, she’s coming along fine. It means ah’ll no’ have tae go over so often.”

  Johnny smiled and nodded his head, “Anyway, ah’d just like to say thanks for sending Cathy and her family that second telegram. Good thinking man.”

  The Irish fellow looked confused, “What the fuck are ye talking about? What second telegram?”

  “The one you sent saying Cathy’s father was coming back soon.”

  “Are you pished? Ah never sent a second telegram.”

  Johnny was shocked, he spat out some beer from his mouth, “Well who the fuck did then?”

  “Hivnae a clue, maybe he’s still alive and is hiding in Ireland after all.”

  Johnny left the club feeling slightly disorientated, but it was not because of the beer. He had two pregnant women to deal with, the imminent return of a missing man who he had presumed dead and the matter of the McCoy vengeance squad. It never rains but it pours.

  Life was complicated, far more complicated than he could have ever imagined.

  Chapter 34

  FLAMES

  “Johnny, wake up! Wake up! There’s a fire” Joseph was shouting to him as he lay in bed. It was around 5am. He jumped out of bed in his underpants and ran into the lobby. His mother and father were there throwing water over the flames that had set the front door alight.

  Also, the fire had spread its way along the lobby but luckily his father had managed to stamp it out. Johnny rushed to the kitchen sink and filled up a bucket of water. He ran back and threw it over the flames. His father and mother were also throwing water over the flames which were still progressing along the lobby. His wee brother Joseph was also stamping out the flames in his school shoes. After about ten minutes the flames were under control and eventually put out.

  The front door was dark and charred as was a major section of the lobby. His mother began to cry, “Somebody has tried to burn us to death, look at that.” She pointed to a charred burnt rag in the floor. His father picked it up and smelled it, “Fucking petrol, somebody, a headcase, has put this lighted rag through the door.”

  Johnny full well knew what sort of headcase, an arsonist from the McCoy gang. “Bastards!” he shouted. “Wait till ah get ma hands on them.” His mother gave a quizzical look, “Do ye know who did this Johnny?”

  He decided to spare her the details, “Nah, ma but ah can find out soon enough, nae bother.” His father said, “It’s a good job ah’m no’ on the boats. Ye would have all been burnt to death. It was me that smelt it first.”

  Johnny was suffering from some kind of shock. Not in his wildest dreams had he imagined this would happen. It was the same old story, cowards who could not fight a man face to face. The modus operandi, once again, was attack like cowards, run away like rats.

  Two beat Bobbies and a couple of CID guys turned up. Of course, the beat Bobbies knew Johnny well or rather his reputation well. One of the constables took Johnny aside and said in a soft voice, “Johnny boy, it looks like your past is catching up with you. Give us a clue who it was and we’ll nick them. Simple as that.” He was glad of the offer but the unwritten Gorbals rule was never talk to the polis. He would sort out this mess his own way. “Look, officer,” he said in an equally soft voice, “They’ll regret the day they were ever born”

  The policeman grimaced and shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t think that’s a wise move son. Whoever did this could end up doing at least 10 years in jail. That would be worse than any hammering you might give them.”

  He nodded his head in agreement but he must have been still in shock because he never agreed with the police, “You might be right officer but let me do things my way.”

  “Up to you son, but you’ll end up doing time, not them.”

  “Thanks for the advice officer but ah’ll take ma chances,” Johnny said moving away from the constable. He thought the policeman was only doing his job, an agreeable, caring sort of fell
ow who he secretly liked. But him being a policeman barred him from any future friendship.

  The two CID guys looked at the charred door and floor. One of them examined the petrol smelling burnt rag. He said to the McGrath family, “This is a very serious crime, attempted murder, in fact three attempted murders. A bid to wipe out a whole family. It is often used in Northern Ireland between the Catholics and Protestants. Have you any idea who did this?”

  They all shook their heads. Johnny’s father replied, “No’ got a clue, ah’m away most of the time and I have certainly no’ got any enemies who would dae a thing like this?”

  Some forensic men arrived and took fingerprints from the parts of the charred door and a lighter that they had found outside on the tenement stairs. The family were advised to seal up the letter box until further notice.

  After the police left, Johnny’s mother sat in the kitchen crying her eyes out, “Who would want tae burn us tae death? It disnae seem right. I hivnae harmed a soul, ah’ve got nae enemies.”

  Johnny’s father shouted, “This is a nutcase who did this, a dangerous fucking nutcase. Johnny, you’re always getting intae bother wi’ the bampots. Who dae you think did this?”

  Johnny kept up his pretence of feigning ignorance, “Could have been anybody da, probably somebody that’s escaped fae an asylum. There’s a lot of nutters roaming the streets of the Gorbals. In fact, there’s mare out than there’s in.”

  Wee brother Joseph, who was now dressed in his school blazer looked less worried, “Wait till ah get to school and tell ma pals, they’ll never believe ah was almost burnt to death, ah thought ah’d be at least eighty before ah got cremated.” He left for school in what appeared to be a happy and excited mood. His mother was still crying, “What are we gonnae dae? We can’t keep living like this, we’re no’ safe.”