by A D Evans
Young Joe Lynch as their son was called had been born on the 19th of January 1949 at Stobhill hospital up near Springburn Park. He was a quiet boy, but had a bit of an evil temper. He had done well at school and was really gifted at anything to do with athletics. He played football for a local team and although they were not very successful, he was undoubtedly the star of the team. Joe had developed into a nice looking man. He was 6 feet 2 inches with his shoes off. Had the jet-black hair of his parents the same sallow skin, and the well-defined classic Italian face, which was very similar to his fathers.
Joe worked at the local coal hill where he spent his day loading lorry loads of coal, he had been lucky enough to get this job through his brother-in-law Tom. There was also a promise that if he worked well then in the near future he could rent a horse and cart or a lorry from Tom and make up his own coal delivery business. Joe put all his energy into planning his venture into the business world
He was very popular with the local girls, and there was always one of them in tow hanging on proudly to his muscular arm. He was a bit of a ladies man whose favourite saying was that girls were like buses, there would be another one along in a minute.
He worked to a routine come the weekend. On a Saturday afternoon when he finished work, he would head to Maryhill baths in Gairbraid Avenue where he would have a hot bath and then go in to the pool for a swim. He liked to head home for an early dinner then have a couple of pints with his pals before heading for the weekly dance at the chapel hall.
At the dance, he would ‘Hopefully’ get a lumber for the evening.
Amazingly for once in his life, he was stumped by a female, and did not know what to do. He had met a girl at the Chapel dance on the previous Saturday night and as was his way had asked her to go out with him. Much to his surprise the girl had refused and indeed had treated him as if he were a bit of dirt on her shoe. Joe could not understand the rejection, as it had never happened to him before. He did not know how to handle it. Joe just could not comprehend why any girl would knock him back. Only a few short weeks ago two females had been fighting over him at the same venue. He was so taken aback by what had happened that he did not look at another girl for the rest of the night.
He decided that this Saturday he would be at the dance looking his best and was certain that she could not resist him a second time. Saturday night arrived at last and it had been a long week for the disillusioned young man. He could not get the girl out of his head. The dance was going about an hour when she made her appearance. Long blonde hair, blue eyes. Her young figure was just about to blossom into full womanhood. This vision stood at the side of the dance floor with her pals. She wore a shimmering green dress that seemed to light up the whole room, and Joe felt his heart beating like a drum.
He was wary of approaching but summoning up his courage he walked across to the girl and asked her to dance. The girl looked him up and down as if she were appraising a carcass in the butchers. She took an eternity to answer yes. As they, danced Joe was for once in his life lost for words and the only thing he was aware of was the smell of her perfume and the feeling of her body in his muscular arms. He eventually managed to make some small talk as they drifted around the large dance floor of the Chapel hall. She told him that she had not long moved to Glasgow and was from a small town in northern Scotland. All too soon for Joe the dance ended. He looked for her, and saw her disappearing with her pals in the direction of Maryhill Park. Should he go after her was his dilemma. He decided against this course of action, as there were too many people about who knew him. If she rejected him in front of all his pals, he would never live it down.
He and his friends sat on the grass verge outside the local Chapel. Sammy, one of his pals remarked that did any of them remember when they were boys how they all thought the Chapel was sinking because of its slopping roof. It looked as if it was disappearing into the ground. They all had a wee laugh at the memory then headed down to the chip shop at the Roxy for a fish supper to round of the night.
Sunday night was always the Blythswood or the Seamore picture hall, desperate to indulge in all the on screen fantasy. He could not concentrate on the film and as the interval approached, he decided to go for an ice-lolly to the foyer. Suddenly she was standing there in front of him in her brand new usherette’s uniform. He smiled at her and said hello and to his delight his smile was returned as she answered his greeting. He took the initiative and asked her again to go out with him on the coming Wednesday evening and she agreed to this. OH Happy Day! For young Joe.
The Wednesday could not come quickly enough .When he finished that evening he went straight to the baths instead of going home for his usual wash in the big kitchen sink.
He could not believe how nervous he was as the time of the date had drawing closer. At last, it was time to go and meet her and it was just then that he realised that he did not even know her name .Real panic began to set in, and he could not believe this was happening to him, it was like some kind of mental block. She had told him her name the last time they had met, but in his anxious state, he just could not remember it.
His mother, as always came to the rescue of her distraught son. She brought out a Chapel magazine and read out all the names from the church announcements. At last, he recognised a name Brenda! Yes that was it Brenda Campbell. He would never forget that name again in his entire life.
The evening went really well and many more were to follow. Brenda and Joe became an item and it was not long before they were making plans to get married.
SIX
They were in fact married on the 19th day of May 1970 at the sinking chapel in Maryhill. they went on to produce two children a son named Paul Joseph Lynch and a daughter Ann-Marie Mary Jean Lynch.
The young family were very happy together, and spent a lot of time doing ordinary family things. Going swimming was their favourite pastime and the children learned to swim from a very early age.
He was totally committed to his wife and children; he taught the children their alphabet long before they went to school. He had never been much of a drinker, and when the boys in the coal yard would ask him to go for a pint on a Friday after work he would always refuse. He took a lot of good-natured stick about his refusals. The other men would tell him that he was hen- pecked. His reply to this jibe would always be the same. He would tell them he would rather be hen- pecked than have a hangover the way they had one on a Saturday morning.
Things were improving for the family. Tom had offered him the chance of renting a lorry to start his own business. He grabbed the opportunity with both hands, and put his whole being into making a success of the venture.
He was soon renting two Lorries’ from his brother-in-law and had carved out a nice little earner, delivering and selling coal to farms and smallholdings on the outskirts of the city. It meant that he had to travel a bit more than the other drivers but by adding a little to the price he could cover his costs and make a handsome profit .Things were going very nicely for the Lynch's youngest offspring.
They had their first real holiday in the July of 1976. Two weeks in Blackpool at the Glasgow fair. Full board in a guesthouse and Brenda felt she was like the Queen for that fortnight
His business continued to prosper, and although he was still renting a lorry or two from Tom, he now owned two small tankers for carrying diesel fuel for the new fangled central heating systems, as they had become all the rage with the wealthier Glasgow families.
They were doing so well that in 1978 they decided to take their first holiday abroad. They went to Italy, and on the trip paid a visit to his parent’s birthplace. He enjoyed seeing the place were his parents were born. Although he could speak very little Italian, he managed to get by with the locals. The children thoroughly enjoyed their holiday and said it was the best time ever.
Three months later in the winter of 1978 tragedy struck the young family. Paul was seven and Ann-Marie nearly six when they were orphaned by a young drunk driver at St. George's cross at
the bottom end of Maryhill Road. The young couple were walking home from the pictures enjoying a fish supper when the young driver lost control of his vehicle and mounted the pavement killing them instantly. The driver had been heading to Milngavie in his fathers powerful saloon car after a drinking session in a pub at Charing Cross. His father was a well-known Glasgow lawyer; things were turned around to make it look as if the couple who were walking were to blame. There was no court case and no compensation.
The children who were devastated, went to stay with their grandparents, and were subsequently brought up by them.
Ten years later the lawyer and his son were stabbed to death. There had been break in at their home but strangely, nothing was stolen or disturbed. Jewellery cash and other items of value were ignored. The police never found any evidence to charge anyone, but in nearby Maryhill, a young man and his sister read the Evening Times newspaper with relish. They looked at a picture of Mrs. Celia Cranbridge the bereaved widow, and then the pair celebrated a score settled. The brother and sister headed home for dinner with their grand- parents who had looked after them for the last ten years. As they walked along the canal, the boy and girl dumped a bag containing bloodstained clothing and a large butcher’s knife. They made a solemn oath to each other that the circumstances of the previous twenty-four hours would never be mentioned again. This solemn oath was taken in the name of their dead parents.
SEVEN
Paul and Ann-Marie were as close as any brother and sister could be. They had mutual friends when they were younger and they all would hang about at the corner of Maryhill road and Shakespeare Street. There was the odd skirmish with youths from other areas that were unfortunate enough to pass through the gangs chosen territory. This was in fact how he had come to meet his devoted servant big Willie Marshall.
Willie had been walking along Maryhill road with two of his pals as he was intending visiting a girl, he had met at his local chip shop. She told him she stayed near the Maryhill’s Wyndford housing estate. As the trio came abreast of Ruchill Street, Paul and his pals appeared from across the road challenged the three guys by asking them where they were going.
Willie had replied
‘What the fuck has it to do with you lot anyway?’
At this point he had attacked him, and as they fought, Frankie Sutherland and Stevie Hamilton attacked Willie’s two pals.
A few punches and kicks later Willies two amigos had done a body swerve back in the direction they had come from.
Big Willie scrapped like a typical street fighter. No holds barred a punching, spitting, gouging animal.
He was a much more refined scrapper and could pick of an opponent with well-timed and aimed precision punches. The fight lasted quite a while and at last as Paul took a sore punch to the solar plexus. The red mist of anger took over and the knife appeared in his hand as if by magic with one lightning stroke across the face the razor sharp blade brought Willie in a total rage and he charged at him with his head down like a Spanish bull.
choosing his next punch with deliberate care and knocked big guy out cold. When he became conscious, his adversary was standing over the top of him with a wet hanky.
He said to him ‘Some scrap big man I thought you were never going down’
He sat up and appraised the situation.
‘Where’s all your pals away to?’
‘They are all away down the road big man, don't worry yourself,’
He accompanied Willie to the Western Infirmary to get his chib mark stitched, and from that night onwards, the two were inseparable.
This was his first real gang member. A confidante’ and as the years passed someone he could trust with his life. A conspirator in the great plan to make him rich at the expense of anyone or anything that got in his way.
EIGHT
Ann- Marie met her husband at the factory where she worked in the Balmore industrial estate. Paul was not too sure of Davie, particularly because he was seven years older than his sister. He didn't even take a drink, and he decided then that he could never really be close to him, but for his sisters sake he would put up with him.
On the eve of his sisters wedding which corresponded with her 17th birthday? He took Davie aside at the stag night, and explained to him in graphic detail what would become of him if he ever hurt or done anything to upset his sister. Davie heeded the warning. He had seen his future brother-in-law in action at a disco a few months earlier. He could still remember the sickening crunch from the guy’s nose as he stamped on him with the heel of his boot. This had been the coup de grace because he had already had used the guy as a punch bag. Constantly knocking him down then picking him up to hit down again. It was the most vicious attack that he had ever witnessed in his twenty-four and a bit years staying in Possil. As if it was not bad enough having Paul threatening you. Here standing next to him there was also his lap dog the Rottweiler, big mad fuckin Willie Marshall whispering in his ear ‘Remember son one slip up and you go through an industrial mincer. Do you understand now wee man?’
It sure was understandable to the groom to be. He decided then that no matter what happened between him and his wife he would never lose his temper or hit her. Just in case he made a mistake, he would keep a bottle of strong pills handy and take the easy way to hell.
The wedding day arrived and it was a fine spring morning. Birds were singing, and the sound of children's voices at play could be heard from the backcourts of the tenement flats. Ann-Marie and her best maid Sadie were putting the final touches to her wedding dress, making sure her make-up was perfect and that nothing had been over-looked.
The door was knocked and she heard her grandfather’s voice shouting
‘Can I come in, hen?’
In he came looking splendid in his new three- piece suit from Slater’s.
‘What do you think?’ He asked as he gave them a twirl.
‘Some suit is it not? Do you think your Gran will fancy me all over again?’ He said with a grin as wide as the Clyde.
‘I went to that barbers in Cambridge Street first thing this morning. A fiver for a haircut, a bloody fiver. At least Dick Turpin had the grace to wear a mask. I even told him I was in the same game as him. Do you know what the cheeky bugger said to me? He said’
‘I I thought that you’re long over due a professional cut.’
‘Professional! Listen son I was cutting hair before your father had one pint to many and spawned you’
‘Anyway enough of all that. How are you hen? My, you’re looking like a winning pools coupon. I think I’m going to cry’
She gave her granddad a big cuddle and told him she loved him, but asked him not to talk about his Haircut during his speech at the reception. Because his hair was so well, cut that all his customers might start going to Cambridge Street themselves. They all had a good laugh and a carry on until the car arrived to take her to the Immaculate Conception Chapel in Maryhill, the same chapel her mother and father had been married in except that the roof now had no slant to it.
The wedding went really well and everyone said it was very enjoyable. Her grandfather had given her away with a tear in his eye.
‘All the best my lass’ he whispered to her as he left her at the altar with Davie.
His speech at the reception in the Woodside Halls had brought the house down.
Of course, he told them about his five-pound haircut, but it had miraculously jumped up to seven pound. He also told a tale about her and Paul when they were younger.
Their Gran had taken a stall in an indoor market near the barras. Because of her accent, she thought that if she became a fortune-teller, as she would sound like a true Romany. Her stall was doing well until one Sunday afternoon she had not had a customer for nearly three hours, and could not understand it. She thought that the stall might as well close early, and as she came out to close the door the sign that her grandchildren had attached to her stall caught her eye. It read
SORRY, CLOSED DUE TO UNFORESEEN CIRCUMSTANCES.
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She said she would never forgive them. Nevertheless, of course she did.
They all seen the bride and groom away on their honeymoon to Italy, and got on with the party.
NINE
Paul and his sidekick big Willie put their ideas together, and decided they could make a reasonable living from crime. The duo came up with elaborate schemes to extract money from others and place it into their pockets.
One of the cons they used was very simple but extremely rewarding. It was based as usual on the assumption that greed, like sex, sells anything.
The shabbily dressed man entered the tobacconists shop, and asked for a half ounce of Old Holborn tobacco. He handed over the money and as he turned to leave hesitated as if he wanted to ask a question. The manager of the shop keen to see him go asked if there was anything more, he required.
The man took a violin from his back and asked the manager if he could leave it in the shop for half an hour until he went over to the station for a bit of a wash and tidy up. The manager thought to himself, what harm it can do to be nice to someone less fortunate than he was. The tramp thanked him for the favour and left promising to return shortly.
Ten minutes later a city gent walks into the shop and orders five expensive cigars. He is dressed in a smart business suit and has an expensive looking wristwatch. The gent goes over to the newspaper stand on which the violin is resting, and the manager hears his sharp intake of breath, he wonders if the customer has spotted the rat that has recently been plaguing his shop. The well-dressed man picks up the violin and asks who the owner is, and the manager tells him it belongs to another customer. The gent immediately offers him £300 for the violin, but the manager has to reject his offer reiterating that it doesn’t belong to him. The gent raises his original offer to £500, and now the manager is in a dilemma. Should he take the offer, and tell the tramp that his property was stolen or should he wait and give the tramp a few quid for it? The manager decides on the latter option, and the city gent is delighted, telling him that he will go straight to the bank to withdraw the money.
