Sometimes Dad would go out and pinch a safe. One day he dropped this big heavy safe on his toe. The bloody thing all but took his toe off. Well he had to go to the hospital and he told them he had dropped a bin on it. The police had witnesses to say they had seen him with the safe, and they didn’t believe he had dropped the bin on it. Turns out the crafty bugger had rubbed his blood on the bottom of the bin, so he got off with that one.
Dad was going back to sea and was drinking heavy all the time; that and the fact that my dad was chasing every woman he could, split them up for good in the end. When I was about 15, I had a phone call saying he had been jumped up in Fishguard while drunk. I’d never seen my dad in any serious condition but this time two guys had shattered Dad’s jaw and stabbed him four times in the back. They even tried to cut his throat. From what I gather, one was found dead not long after. He had been tied up and thrown in the dock. The other was reported as missing at sea.
Dad was being nursed for about four months by Mam but he hit the drink hard and went back to his old ways when he got better. This didn’t help him and eventually his condition deteriorated and sadly he died. Even though he’s gone now, I look at my older brother John and I see so much of my dad in him. John’s a fighting man, just like Dad was.
ERNIE BEWICK
Sunderland
Hard as nails and afraid of neither man nor beast, Ernie has an easy-going nature that leads some to underestimate him. But beneath the relaxed exterior lies the heart of a lion. A legend on the streets of Sunderland, Ernie is both well liked and well feared – liked by most, but feared by those who cross the line.
I WAS BORN down what is known as the East End of Sunderland. My dad was a good fighter in his time and fought some very handy guys over the years. He brought us up to be able to handle ourselves but to never look for trouble. My great-grandfather was a professional boxer and in his first eight fights he knocked them all out. The story that I was told as a boy was that he had been beaten to death while he was in prison. I don’t know the truth of it, but that’s the story passed down over the years in my family.
I have two brothers and we never really had much. In fact none of the kids where we lived had a lot. It was a hard time for everyone, but what we never had, we never missed. We would always get into scuffles with other kids, winning some and losing some along the way. I got known as the toughest in the school, so I was always fighting. Looking back now, I realise that we all should have stuck to our schooling and got an education, but we look at our parents as role models, and my dad was a fighter.
I got it into my head that I was going to learn to box. It was just something that I wanted to do, so I got myself off to the gym. I found it all very exciting, and boxing held no fear for me at all. I was only a kid and was so impressed with the trainers and the gym. One of the trainers would tell all us kids, “When you leave this gym, I want you to be as good-looking going out as you were when you came in.” They looked after us and taught us well.
I was back and forth to the gym a lot over the years but, of course, being young, I wanted to go to the disco and that. This was when, I guess, I really started to get into fights. I remember one lad telling my friends what he was going to do to me when we met up. My mate told him, “There’s no way you’re going to beat Ernie.” A while later, I was in a nightclub when I see the lad coming over to me. He offers me into the toilets to sort things out. We both walk over to the toilets and all the while he’s holding his pint glass, one of them old, heavy, chunky glasses. I guess he must have sensed how confident I was because he stopped just before the toilets and put the glass over my head. This didn’t bother me and I just kept putting punches into him until I beat him. Thing is, no matter what they use against you in a fight, you have to keep going forward, keep attacking, and that’s what I did.
When I was in the gym sparring, I liked to get into the fight and literally soak up my opponent’s punches. I was so very game when I was young; even when I fought on the street, I loved a good tear-up. Once, in a fight, I got grabbed around the neck in a headlock. I just covered up my face and let the other guy wear himself out punching. He couldn’t hurt me and was just getting tired trying. Before long, I managed to pull myself free and punched him down to the ground. Again he grabs me in a headlock and again I cover, absorb his punches and knock him down. His friends got between us because they knew he couldn’t beat me. You could tell by looking at him that all the fight had left him, but me, I was still up for it. I guess it’s because I idolised Rocky Marciano as a youngster and tried to base myself on him. I just thought the guy was the greatest fighter that I had ever seen. I just wanted to fight the same way as him and be as tough as him. Having Marciano as my idol helped me through all the fights I had when I was young. I wouldn’t back down and would keep on fighting no matter what the odds against me were. My whole life was motivated by him.
I sometimes wish that I’d stayed with the boxing more than I did. You must understand I was drifting in and out of boxing all the time. I wouldn’t train for, say, two years, come back, train for two weeks, and then fight in the ring. My trouble was that I treated boxing too much like a hobby, like some kids would have a game of football on a Saturday afternoon. One of my best wins in the ring was against big Viv Graham, who was murdered later on in life. I was a few years older than Viv and was told that he wasn’t to be messed with, as he had knocked a few out. In the fight I kept throwing left hands into his face, not showing my right hand because I was keeping that back hoping to knock him out with it. I dominated the fight but couldn’t get a knockout because he was defending himself quite well and had his guard up. I won the fight and felt it was a good fight for me, as I had handled myself quite well.
I never felt pain when I was actually in a streetfight, but later on, when I cooled down, I could feel every punch and kick that I had taken. I was out one night in a club called The Rink when I got into a fight with this lad called Harry. The fight moved to the centre of the dance floor with everyone around us. There were bottles and glasses raining down on us from everywhere. We didn’t stop, just kept on fighting each other, both going for it. The doormen just stood around watching, they didn’t want to get involved with it. I eventually got Harry onto the deck and, after hitting him a few times, he gave up, so I got off him and let him go. Now the bouncers came up to me and wanted to know if I was alright and that. I realised that I had at some time in the fight been kicked between the legs. I stood there acting as if I hadn’t been hurt, but in fact my stomach and that were killing me.
I started drifting in and out of various jobs like working on the scrap wagon, just to get some money in. I wasn’t making a lot and got involved in a wages snatch. Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t glorify crime and hope kids don’t follow me down that road. Well, I left my fingerprint on the roof of a car; that and being identified sent me away for a while. This is all something I never really talk about and I know that I did wrong. I wanted to change my life when I got out, and because I couldn’t read or write, I decided that I wanted to better myself a bit. I started learning and spent a lot of time reading about different things. I would read about history and religion, about people who stood up for what they believed in. I would absorb everything from Socrates to the Romans. This all helped to strengthen me mentally and spiritually.
I was unemployed and looking hard for work but the only thing I was really cut out for was working the doors. First time I did door work was just because I needed a television; the second time was just to get money in for Christmas. It was the only real work I could find at the time, so eventually I got more and more door work. I was known as a handy lad, so the door work came easy. When you have no money and no job, the respect I had as a fighter did boost my self-esteem a bit. It was not just fighting I was respected for but for being a fair guy who would always help out the underdog. I’ve always been approachable and like to talk to people, so I got along with most folk.
I then got offered to sort this pu
b out on the Pennywell Estate. They were getting trouble there and offered me £100 to sort it. I went up to the pub on my own. I knew there would be guys waiting for me but I thought it best to go on my own. I walked up to the guys who I knew were causing all the trouble. “There’ll be no more trouble here, I’m barring the lot of you,” I told them. Now it may seem a bit dirty but I needed to really make my presence felt, so I lifted up the table and smashed it down on the floor. Well, that seemed to do the trick because when I offered them outside there were no takers. There were a good few guys there that could have a scrap. I knew I couldn’t fight them all but I was willing to try. One guy said he was going to bring down a relative to sort me out. Well, when he said that I knew I had got them all beat. There was no more trouble in the place and I was getting paid good money to look after it.
One night a gang of lads burst into a club I was running. They are well-known guys, so I won’t mention their names. They were looking for trouble, so I told them they had to leave.
“Are you daft?” the first one asked. “There are all of us here.”
Now I had the other doormen with me and a load of back-up in the club if needed. “Look it’s you that’s outnumbered,” I told him.
He looked around and said, “Yes, but we got guns.”
Now I played a bit of a bluff here and told him, “Well, we got guns as well.”
I pointed to one of the lads with me and told them that he had a gun. Funny thing is that one of the guys with us did have a gun; I was only trying to bluff them but he went to his car and told me he had a gun on himself. I spoke straight to the two main lads who were arguing with me. I offered to fight them both and they declined. I think the bluff with the gun worked because they turned around and went. Could have gone the other way and turned really nasty, mind you.
The benefit that I had in a fight was my heart. I wouldn’t back down and would fight anyone who came looking for it. I have to admit, sometimes nerves would take hold of you, especially when you knew you had to fight someone. It’s not a nice feeling waiting for it to kick off, that nervous feeling in your stomach and the weakness you get in the legs. Even though you feel that way, there’s just something inside you that wills you to go on. It’s different when you go into a situation where you don’t know it’s going to happen, because you react without thinking, reflexes and instinct take over. I found the best way to get over the nerves, if I thought a fight would come off, was to keep light-hearted about it and relax. I’d think that maybe there wouldn’t be a fight and things would work out fine. There are a lot of good men out there who have lost a fight through worrying about what may happen. Over the years I’ve walked into clubs on my own where I know some handy guys are waiting for me. I’ve walked up to them and told them if they want to have it, they can, even though I knew I could be jumped on by them all. It’s better to face these things straight on. You tend to get respect off people for it.
I was working in a club called the Blue Monkey when I got told that someone was at the door and he wanted to come in without paying. We argue and he offers me round the corner and calls me a “little shit”. All of a sudden he slaps me and I take a step forward to fight. He then threw a punch, which I ducked and, as fast as I could, I threw a right cross followed by an uppercut which put him down. Now, most times this would be the end of things but I get a message that he wants a return fight. He’s a good fighter and quite a hard lad. These days we get on and I must say I do like him. Anyway, the fight was arranged and I travel down to the gym in Jesmond [an area of Newcastle-upon-Tyne], where we were to fight. My fight plan was to take everything he had, then wear him down. I knew he could fight and thought this would be the best way. I’m hanging around for about one and a half hours and at this stage nerves are starting to kick in a bit; it’s the waiting that does it. I’m trying to stay focused and also staying as relaxed as I can, but it’s hard when you’re waiting for so long. While I waited I was made to feel comfortable; the gym owner Andy gave me a cup of tea to warm me up, as I was getting cold. My opponent turns up and we shake hands like gentlemen. We go around the back of the gym to get the fight started. I look around and at once I notice that the area is tailor-made for him, with him being bigger: there were corners that he could get me trapped in, and an embankment which later worked to his advantage a bit.
The fight starts and I’m flicking punches out, not hard shots, just enough for him to throw a few back. This way, I could then work my way in on him if he came forward. The guy was a big banger and I had to be careful and use my head a bit. The fight goes up against the wall and I cover and let him punch himself out a bit. He backs off up the embankment and I follow and trip on the way. He tries to get on top of me, but I manage to break free. The last thing I needed was his weight on me. I know I can catch him with a left hook, so I just throw rights for a while, then I throw a straight right and follow with a left hook. I feel that I can now finish the fight. Next thing I’m hit with an uppercut and I put my hand on the floor to steady myself. With that, someone gets in between us, and I’m thinking they are going to stop the fight, so I go mental and start to tear into my opponent. The fight is then stopped and I’m declared the winner. I’ll be fair on my opponent: when I went back into the gym, he waited outside to shake my hand and to put it all behind us.
For a while later the whole town was full of excitement over the fight, there were so many stories going around about it. I had beaten a very hard, well-known fighter and everyone was talking about it. During the fight I had lost a false tooth and for some reason people were saying that big Viv Graham, who was watching the fight, had knocked one of my teeth out. I start getting told by people that Viv had thrown the punch that stung me just before the end of the fight. It dawns on me that was why I never saw the punch coming – I was struck by Viv from the side. I eventually confront Viv and he admits that he had struck me during the fight. He tells me it was because my opponent was like a father to him and he didn’t want to see him beat. Now I’m not the type to hold a grudge and it was a daft thing for him to do, so I left it at that.
It was New Year’s Eve [1993] and someone in a party told me that Viv had been shot dead. I didn’t believe it at first but then the story went around that he had been blasted with a shotgun and was dead. I felt sorry for Viv. Nobody deserved that, no matter what he may or may not have done.
I was making the town safer by stopping the trouble in the clubs and that. I didn’t want drugs in the pubs and clubs where I worked and kept them out. I had good lads working for me on the doors and felt I was doing a good service in the town. You must remember that at this time there was a lot of dangerous people around here, going around with guns and threatening to kill people. I was doing something that I liked and people knew I could do a good job.
Things came to a head one night when I got involved in a fight with this guy called Tony Waters and ended up doing three years for manslaughter. I’ve been out of prison for over a year now, and one of the conditions of my parole licence was that I stay away from door work. At the moment I’m working part-time with a building firm and just keeping my nose clean. Eventually, I will get back to running the doors again, maybe just taking a backseat and overseeing things. I’m just going to take life one step at a time and play whatever cards it deals me.
Streetfighters: Real Fighting Men Tell Their Stories Page 26
