by Ronald Kray
W - Watt, Joe. Another black feller, famous here for his size and amazing strength. In the end Joe got so big and so heavy that Charlie Smith said to him one day: ‘You better lose some weight, Joe, otherwise it will kill you.’ Within days, Joe was dead of a heart attack. Yet another Broadmoor legend who never made it back to the world outside.
So these are just some of the men and women whose names will live on in this place long after they, and I, have passed on. To them and all of the patients in this hospital I have a simple message:
I pray for you at night
That God will always give you light,
And when you are meek he will give you might.
When each day comes around,
He will help you through each day’s struggle and fight, I’m your friend and will always do for you what is right, To me you are higher than a bird in flight.
All you may not see and may not hear But never doubt and never fear,
As I am your friend and will always be here.
When they’ve all passed you by,
I will stand by your side,
And when I said I was your friend I never lied;
I say this with pride,
As God is my judge and God is my guide.
CHAPTER TEN: Seeing Stars
Reg and I have been seeing stars for years. Right from the days when we were young villains on the streets of the East End we always seem to have attracted the company of show- business and sporting people. Sportsmen, of course, we’ve admired since we were little kids - especially boxers - but we’ve usually got along well with show people, as we call them. Mind you, you have to watch out for some of them. They can be a bit unstable. I remember, back in the sixties, a world-famous pop star came to see me and Reg and asked us if we could let him have a gun. We asked him what for and he told us he and another feller had had a row over some woman - and he wanted to shoot the other bloke! No way were me and Reg going to do time for a nutcase like that, even if he was a nice feller, and even if he was top of the charts. So we politely told him to fuck off.
But I’m pleased to say that a lot of our famous friends, those that are still fit and alive, have carried on visiting me and Reg even after we were put away. They weren’t just fair-weather friends who just wanted to know us during the good times.
The first famous person me and Reg ever met was a Jewish boxer from the East End called Young Ashell Joseph. He was welterweight champion of Great Britain in the twenties. Our father took us to meet him near Petticoat Lane, in London. When we met him he was in a wheelchair, paralysed from the waist down. We gave him a small picture we had of him when he was a boxer. It was like a cigarette card. When we gave him the picture of himself his face lit up. I will never forget his smile, because when he smiled he had all gold teeth. He was the first famous person we ever met, and we were proud to do so.
One of the first real stars we got to know was Winifred Atwell, a black honky-tonk piano player, sadly now dead, who had huge hits in the fifties with records like ‘Poor People of Paris’. I first met her at the Green Gate pub, in Bethnal Green. We had a drink or two together and got on like a house on fire. Later she used to visit the Kentucky club, which we owned, and sometimes we would go to her house. Winnie helped me and Reg raise a lot of money for boys’ clubs in the East End and, funnily enough, she put on a concert for the patients at Broadmoor, which I arranged many years before I came here. I still have one of her albums, signed with a personal message.
We’ve known many other show-business stars, like Roger Daltrey, lead singer with the Who. Roger is nothing like his ‘wild man’ image and is a very deep, thoughtful feller. He gave my friend Charlie Smith a guitar the Who had used on one of their American tours. He’s a fair actor, too, and he played the part of John McVicar, in the film McVicar. I would say that Roger is far more of a man and much less of a poseur than McVicar, though. McVicar is a one-time small-time villain who now makes his living writing and talking about real villains.
Diana Dors was one of our favourite show-business people, a great actress and a very special person. Reggie first spotted her singing at the Room at the Top, at Ilford, and he came home raving about ‘this fantastic girl with platinum blonde hair’. We got very close with Diana and her husband, Alan Lake, and Diana used to visit me, Reg and Charlie inside. She also used to go round and visit our parents at their home in Vallance Road. She always took them gifts of fruit and flowers and my mother thought the sun shone out of her. Alan used to come and see me and Reg in Parkhurst. The first time he came to see us they wouldn’t let him in because they said he had a criminal record. He didn’t make a fuss about it, he just went home and started writing letters to the authorities until they would let him visit us. Once Diana died, though, that was the beginning of the end for Alan. We watched him go downhill and there was nothing anyone could do about it. He had loved her so much, and he just lost the will to live.
We thought the great American entertainer Billy Daniels had lost the will to live, once, but for a very different reason. Billy was famous for a song called ‘That Old Black Magic’. We used to go clubbing a lot with him and he was a nice feller, though he sometimes liked the drink a bit too much. Once, in the sixties, Reggie saved him from getting a good hiding. Billy had been having a few drinks at a hotel in London with Reg and some other fellers, when Billy got a bit heavy with Tommy Brown, an ex-boxer who used to be called the Bear. Tommy got a bit fed up and he would have flattened Billy if Reg hadn’t stopped him. The next night Billy missed a performance at the London Palladium to come round to the Kentucky club to apologize to Tommy, and to give Reg a pair of gold cuff-links as a gesture of goodwill. It’s not the only time Billy nearly got himself in very serious bother. It’s said that he once upset a New York Mafia boss named Crazy Joe Gallo, by taking out an air hostess who was one of Joe’s girlfriends. Billy was picked up by some of Gallo’s men and taken to a basement where Crazy Joe used to keep a caged lion. It was said he would let the lion attack anyone who upset him. Billy got on his knees and apologized to Joe, who let him off with a warning. Billy laughed about it afterwards. He used to say: ‘I never felt the same way about air hostesses, or lions, after that!’
David Essex was another singer we knew and liked. In fact me and Reg gave him his first singing break in our club the El Morocco, in Gerrard Street, Soho. We called it that because it reminded us of some happy times we had in Morocco. David was one of the first entertainers we signed up to do a regular spot. He was a complete unknown then. He’s never forgotten us and on a Christmas television show, a few years back, he sent his best wishes to me and Reg and Charlie.
The actor Ronald Fraser was an early show-business friend. We’d see him often at race meetings and he used to come to all our clubs, especially the Kentucky, the Double R, and the Cambridge Rooms. Ronnie was a good actor who knew how to enjoy himself. I’ll never forget when me and Reg once bought a horse called Solway Cross for our mum. We had it trained at Epsom, but we thought we’d bought a bummer when it came last in its first race. So we decided to raffle it one night at the Cambridge Rooms, to make some money for charity. Ronnie won the raffle but he was so pissed I don’t think he realized it. He woke up next morning with a racehorse he hadn’t got a clue what to do with!
Debbie Harry, who had five number one records in the late seventies, has been to see me at Broadmoor, Marvin Gaye wrote to me pledging his support for me and Reg, and, of course, we were close friends of one of the greatest entertainers of all time, Judy Garland.
Judy became a friend when she used to come to our clubs. She would always come to see us when she was in London, and we would always have the best seats for her shows, and go backstage afterwards. Often our mother would come with us because she was a big fan of Judy’s. Judy sent a telegram when Reg married Frances, and I made headlines during our trial when I told the judge: ‘If I wasn’t here now, I’d probably be having a gin and tonic with Judy Garland.’ The funny thing was, I probably would have,
because Judy was in London at the time. I once met Dirk Bogarde, with Judy Garland, and he seemed a right nice man.
Charlton Heston, the American actor, was another one who came to our trial and he later sent me a letter. Jon Bon Jovi, the American rock singer, is another who writes and sends me cards. He has promised he will come and see me in Broadmoor when he is next in Britain. The Kemp twins, Gary and Martin, who used to be in Spandau Ballet, have been to see me and Reg, because they played us in the film The Krays. I think they do look a lot like us when we were young.
Helen Keating, the actress, grew up with us in the East End. We have known each other since we were kids and have had a lifelong friendship. She is a star now in programmes like London’s Burning. But she still stays in touch with us.
The singer Kenny Lynch has stayed loyal, and we’ve known him since he joined in the boxing bouts we used to stage when we were kids in our house in Vallance Road. It was tough on him being a black kid in the East End all those years ago, but Kenny always stood up for himself well. The actors Glen Murphy and Billy Murray have stayed loyal, too. I remember, in the early days, Billy was having trouble getting an Equity card and, unless you belong to the actors’ union you can’t get work as an actor. Billy explained his problem to us and we sent him to Billy Hill who, at the time, ran a lot of London’s underworld. It was said at the time that Billy could fix anything and we always thought he was the ultimate professional criminal. Shortly after seeing Hill, Billy Murray got his Equity card. Like I said, we spotted David Essex early in his career, and Eric Clapton made one of his earliest professional appearances at our club Esmerelda’s Barn. That was thanks to a feller called Laurie O’Leary, who managed the club for us. Laurie’s brother, Alfie, ended up taking a job with Eric Clapton and he travelled all over the world with him. The Walker Brothers, whose record was playing on the juke box the night I shot George Cornell, also played at the Barn. Laurie O’Leary later went on to become a real entrepreneur and he’s stayed a mate of ours for many years.
So did the blind singer Lenny Peters until his sad death in 1992. Lenny found fame when he teamed up with a girl called Diane Lee and they became known as Peters and Lee. When he was first starting out he came and saw me and I got him a booking at the Blue Angel club in the West End. He also worked at several of our clubs. He never forgot the helping hand and he came to Broadmoor several times to put on shows for the patients. He was an amazing feller. Even though he was blind he would always know instantly whenever Reg or I walked into a room. I’ll always remember a big charity do we put on at the Cambridge Rooms. Lenny was doing the cabaret and the guest of honour was Sonny Liston, the former heavyweight boxing champion of the world. It was almost impossible to make Liston laugh and he was known as Old Stone-face. Yet, as he listened to a special song Lenny had written about him, called Old Stone-face, Liston just broke up with laughter. It was a magic moment.
Joe Pyle was another friend from the early days who became a great entrepreneur. When we first met him at the Double R he was a promising middleweight boxer, but his career was ruined when he was arrested for the shooting of a man called Cooney in the Pen club, near Spitalfields Market. He went on trial at the Old Bailey but was eventually acquitted. These days he runs a film production company and manages singers. He’s visited me consistently over the years at Broadmoor and brought many famous celebrities with him. The last time me and Reg were outside we had a drink with Joe at the Astor club, to celebrate the birth of his son. These days Joe junior, as well as Joe senior, comes to see me.
The great American actor George Raft was another close friend. Me and Reggie first met him in the Colony club, in Berkeley Square. At that time he was about seventy-two and I have never seen a more smartly dressed man. He told me he used to have one meal a day, a steak with salad every evening. He was a lovely feller, nothing like his tough-guy image. He used to love looking round the East End, which he said was like New York. I found that to be true when I went there myself. We took our mother and father out with him several times and he gave me and Reg a beautiful gold cigarette lighter each. When I was a kid, watching his films, I never dreamed this great man would one day be my friend.
The English actor Andrew Ray has been a good friend over the years, and he once sent my mother the biggest food and drinks hamper I’ve ever seen in my life. Another Ray, the American singer, Johnny, was a pal. He made a record called ‘Cry’ in the fifties which was a number one all over the world. I first met him in the Dolce Vita nightclub in Newcastle. I once gave him a silver bracelet - and he once asked me to loan him ten grand for four weeks. That’s the equivalent of nearly a hundred thousand pounds these days. But he was as good as his word and, four weeks later, he returned the money. He once told me he was at his happiest when he was on a stage, singing. Off-stage he didn’t have much personality, but on-stage he was full of it.
A singer with personality on-stage and off was Lita Rosa, and she was a very good friend. I’ll always remember seeing her perform for the first time. It was at the Royal Ballroom, in Tottenham, and me and Reg were AWOL from the Army at the time. We’d popped into the Royal for a drink, and to hear Lita singing with the Ray Ellington Band. Unfortunately some of the Tottenham lads picked a fight with us and it all ended up in a right old scrap on the dance floor with Lita still singing away as if nothing was happening! Years later, when we were friends, we had a good laugh about that night. And, by the way, me and Reg won the scrap.
George Sewell often plays tough-guy roles in plays and films but, though he looks a hard man, he’s very gentle and very good company. He’s been a friend for years and has been to see me in Broadmoor, as has another actor, Victor Spinetti.
Sophie Tucker was one of the most interesting friends I ever had. She was a great film star in the twenties, thirties and forties. She was Jewish-American and she once told me A1 Capone gave her her start in show-business in one of his speakeasies. She told me he once bought her a necklace for twenty thousand dollars - that’s got to be near on two hundred grand these days - and that he was very kind to her. When I asked her what Capone was like, she said: ‘He’s a nice man - if he likes you.’ She would ring me from all over the world, just for a chat, and every time she did I would play her a record of her singing a song called ‘My Yiddisher Mama’. It was my favourite song and I still like it. She died when I was in prison and I was sad.
But all our friends aren’t just old-timers. The rock band UB40 have been very supportive in recent years. But, of course, one of our very best friends has always been the actress Barbara Windsor. She and her ex-husband Ronnie Knight sent flowers to our mother’s funeral, and all the time we’ve been away Barbara has campaigned harder than anyone to get freedom for Reg. We go back a long way. Early in 1963, a few months after we’d opened the Kentucky club, Barbara asked us if we’d let the club be used in some scenes in a film she was making called Sparrows Can’t Sing. Her co-stars were Queenie Watts and James Booth. At the end of the year the film’s premiere was held in Stepney and afterwards we had a fantastic party at the Kentucky. Me and Reg bought most of the tickets at the premiere and made a lot of money for charity. Those were great days. And while I’m talking of show people, I must just mention Norman Wisdom, who’s written me some of the funniest letters I’ve ever received in Broadmoor.
We’ve had friends from all sorts of backgrounds. Francis Bacon, a great artist, used to gamble at Esmerelda’s Barn - chemin defer was his passion. We became very close Mends. We met in Tangiers, on holiday, and discovered we had a lot in common - a love of North Africa, art and gambling. Over the years I sent him several of my own paintings so that I could get his comments on them. He has written me many lovely letters and sent me some beautiful cards at Christmas.
David Bailey, the society and fashion photographer, has also been a close friend. David has settled down now, but he was a real ‘Jack the Lad’ when he was younger. I remember Reg once asked him what his hobby was. David replied: ‘Sex!’
Terry
Dene is now a born-again Christian, but in the fifties he was a pop idol and a good friend. He often used to stay at the flat I had in Cedra Court. But, like all show people, Terry used to keep erratic hours. One morning he arrived home in the early hours, pissed. He’d lost his key, so he began climbing up the drainpipe to my bedroom on the second floor. The caretaker saw him, thought he was a burglar, and called the police! These days Terry Dene is a very different sort of man.
But, of course, sportsmen have always been the biggest idols for me and Reg, and some of them have been among our best friends. In the main they’ve been boxers. Alphabetically speaking, I’m talking of men like …
Frank Bruno, who came to see the patients here, and spoke to us and gave away some photographs. He is a gentle man. In his book, he wrote that he could not believe a mild-mannered man like me once ran the London underworld.
David Chamley, the former British and European light¬weight champion and the most successful British lightweight for the decade from 1954 to 1964. Boxers are usually straightforward and honest because, as far as the fighters are concerned, it’s a straightforward and honest sport. Once you get in that ring it’s just you and the other bloke. May the better man win. Dave is a typical boxer in that respect. He’s been a good friend, though I still can’t explain how a feller from Dartford in Kent talks with a Scottish accent.
John Conteh, ex-middleweight champion of the world, is another good guy who’s had to overcome a lot of personal problems. But he’s done it like the man he is. John has also got the best set of teeth I’ve ever seen on a man. How he’s managed to keep them after some of the scraps he’s been in, God only knows.