by John Pearson
When he tried to do so, Reg got so drunk that he no longer cared if Frances was watching him through some heavenly spyhole, and ordered Albert Donoghue to bring her brother Frank to the Carpenters’ Arms as he wanted to talk with him. In fact, he had decided that the time had come to kill him, but when Frank appeared he looked so uncannily like Frances that Reg started weeping and bought him a drink instead before sending him packing.
After this Ron started taunting Reg unmercifully, as he had when they’d been children. But now the taunts were all about his brother’s cowardice when all he had to do was murder someone. What could be easier?
‘I’ve done mine, Reg,’ he kept repeating.’ You know it’s time that you did yours as well.’
For Ron in fact was now so paranoid, and so obsessed with the thought of traitors in their midst, that he wanted Reg to play his part in killing them. But when sober, Reg was still reluctant; so one night when they were out drinking together at the Green Dragon, Ron decided that the time had come to show Reg how to do it.
Among those standing at the bar was a tough old villain called George Dixon. The Twins had grown up with him and had known him for years. But recently Ron had been hearing things about him which he didn’t like. Ron was particularly upset about certain things that Dixon had reportedly said about Cornell. He needed to be taught a lesson, and since Reg wouldn’t do it Ron would have to. There was no time like the present, and the sooner it was done the better.
So, there and then, in full view of everybody in that crowded bar, Ron drew an automatic from a shoulder holster, brought the muzzle up to Dixon’s head and pulled the trigger. There was a click and nothing happened.
The gun had jammed but, unpredictable as ever, Ron took this very coolly.
‘Hey’, he said, taking the bullet from the chamber and throwing it across to Dixon. ‘It’s just saved your fucking life. Wear it on your watch chain as a souvenir.’
As for persuading Reg to murder someone, Ron wasn’t particularly worried any more. He knew that Reg would do the business when he had to. There was always somebody around who needed killing.
Although he had a reputation as a fearless fighter and a bit of a womaniser, there was something just a touch pathetic about Jack ‘The Hat’ McVitie. Perhaps it was the hat he wore to hide his baldness. Why bother? And why was he always getting beaten up? A few months earlier, a gang of hooligans he’d offended tried to teach him a lesson by smashing his hands with a crowbar. But Jack wasn’t one for lessons, and he showed everyone he didn’t care by starting brawling once again, long before his hands were healed. But obviously Jack did care, just as he cared about his baldness and the threats of violence. For the truth about him was that he was a drunk, that his nerves were shot to pieces, and that his courage came from monster pep-pills called ‘black bombers’. Jack was also far too eager to be of service to anyone who would employ him and that summer, when the Twins started wholesale dealing in purple hearts, he came in useful.
As with the trouble concerning Frederick, it was Ron who was responsible for carrying the Twins’ involvement with Jack the Hat further. By doing this, was he already seeking to set him up? Probably. Certainly it was Ron who set things rolling by making the original deal with Jack to murder another of the Twins’ former friends turned enemy – the man with the briefcase, Les Payne. Ron had been hearing yet more rumours, this time that Payne had joined forces with enemies of the Krays who were anxious to betray them to the law.
This was simply one of countless rumours that both the Twins were all too ready to believe and which found a ready home among Ron’s paranoid suspicions. So Ron paid Jack the Hat £100 on account to kill Les Payne, promising him a further £400 when Payne was dead.
Reg didn’t fancy the idea of this, and in the old days would have had no difficulty persuading his brother to forget it. Reg had liked Les Payne when things were going well and wouldn’t think badly of him now. But these were not the good old days, and ever since Frances died Reg seemed to have lost the ability to oppose his brother. So the contract went ahead, and Jack the Hat did his best to murder Leslie Payne by shooting him outside of his home in Purley – but even here Jack failed, and by failing offered Payne a warning, which made Jack’s task doubly difficult thereafter.
Jack still did his best. But the man with the briefcase was a hard man to kill, and Ron started worrying about his money. When he heard that Jack had made a scene in Freddie Foreman’s 211 Club in Balham, he started shouting that Jack’s behaviour was ‘a diabolical liberty’ and he would pay for it. Jack should have known that Foreman was a friend and ally of the Twins, and there and then Jack’s name went to the top of Ron’s private list of candidates for murder.
So great was Ron’s fury that when he told Reg what Jack had done, for the sake of peace Reg weakly agreed to drive over to the Regency Club in north-east London where Jack usually hung out to ‘sort the fucker out’.
This sort of thing was happening all too often now, with Reg ending up doing whatever Ron told him to; and when he arrived at the Regency that night he definitely intended to kill Jack the Hat. But once he saw him there was something so pitiful about this threadbare villain, moaning on about his debts and his nervous troubles and his sick baby daughter, that once again Reg’s heart was touched and instead of shooting him he gave him fifty pounds.
‘I s’pose you’d’ve sent five hundred quid to George Cornell,’ said Ron when he heard what Reg had done. Ron also sent a threatening message to Jack McVitie, giving him one more chance. Either do the business with Les Payne or face the consequences. It was a simple enough message but inevitably it caused a fresh misunderstanding, which rapidly led on to everything that followed. For on receiving it Jack instantly thought that Reg had double-crossed him, got roaring drunk, swallowed several more black bombers, and appeared in the upstairs bar at the Regency waving a sawn-off shotgun. Then, in front of everyone, he started shouting threats against the Twins.
Human nature being what it is, there were several people standing in the bar that night who could hardly wait to pass the news of Jack the Hat’s behaviour back to the Twins. Then the trouble really started.
All this happened on a Friday night and the following evening the Twins took over the Carpenters’ Arms for what they called a ‘Ladies’ Night’. The wives and girlfriends honoured with an invitation to these painfully polite affairs were careful to behave exactly as the Twins expected – particularly with Violet present, as she was that evening. On such occasions Violet was very much East End royalty and all the women knew their places in her presence. None of them would have dreamt of sitting at the bar, still less of ordering herself a drink or speaking out of turn. There was something very Japanese about these villains’ women as they sat together like geishas with their elaborate hairdos and expensive dresses, sipping their Babychams and chattering together.
The men, who were likewise on their best behaviour, also kept strictly to themselves. Dress on such occasions was strictly formal, in the style of the so-called ‘gangster chic’ favoured by the Twins – snow-white shirts with tightly knotted slim silk ties, and sharp blue suits with narrow trouser legs and knifelike creases. Newer arrivals in the Firm tended towards highly polished black winkle-picker shoes.
On these occasions the men went easy with the drinking. (The time for serious consumption would follow closing time.) They were also careful with their language, particularly with Violet present since she couldn’t abide swearing. For the Kray Twins’ ladies’ evenings took their cue from Violet and were essentially polite affairs, the East End on its best behaviour, which in the circumstances made that evening at the Carpenters’ a surreal beginning to the horror that would follow.
To make it stranger still, Reg was in an unusually good mood, drinking little, showing no sign of whatever strain he might be under, attentive to the ladies, and perfectly at home as he played the part that he enjoyed: the perfect host. The rest of the Firm appeared to take their lead from him and the soli
tary fly in the ointment was, as usual, Ron, who remained at the far end of the bar with an expression on his face like thunder.
When Reg inquired what was up, Ron said he had the hump with Jack McVitie. He would have to be dealt with, and since no one else would do it he would have to. That was what was pissing him off. Why was he left with all the dirty work while all the others ponced around like women? But fucking McVitie was completely out of order, and if Reg wouldn’t deal with him Ron would have to, just as he’d dealt with fucking George Cornell.
Nobody appears to have heard Reg’s reply, but several members of the Firm at the Carpenters’ that night did notice a change come over him as he started drinking heavily again.
In those days pubs still closed at ten-thirty but that night there was an open invitation for any members of the Firm, together with their partners, to go on to a party at Blonde Carol Skinner’s place at No. 71 Cazenove Road, Stoke Newington. And many of them did, Ron included, which in the circumstances was surprising, especially as there was no sign there of Reg. But just before eleven Reg did appear at the Regency Club, with a gun and two members of the Firm, searching for McVitie; but they couldn’t find him.
This was a key moment in that evening’s rapidly unfolding drama. For at that moment, drunk as he was, Reg was clearly of a mind to murder Jack McVitie when they found him. Instead they were greeted by a friend of theirs, the young and highly got-together owner of the Regency, John Barry. As landlord of a popular North London drinking club, one of Barry’s many skills lay in averting trouble on his premises and the last thing in the world he wanted was a murder that night – or any night – at the Regency. So, using all his powers of persuasion, he set about trying to convince Reg not to murder Jack the Hat; and, surprisingly, he succeeded.
Late though it was, and drunk though he was, when faced with the reality of killing someone as pitiable as Jack McVitie, Reg faltered. And he did not merely falter. Even when Barry tactfully suggested that it might be best if he left his gun with him, Reg actually agreed to that as well. After watching Barry lock his .32 automatic in a drawer in his office, Reg went off calmly to join Ron and all their other friends and acquaintances drinking their heads off at Blonde Carol’s party.
Had that been the end of it, and had Reg’s automatic stayed safely locked away in Barry’s drawer, all the guests at Carol Skinner’s party would have thoroughly enjoyed themselves and the whole story of the Twins might well have had a very different ending.
But thanks to one person and to one alone, this didn’t happen. For as soon as Reg turned up at the party and admitted that Jack the Hat was still alive, Ron became positively transfixed with rage. This was not one of Ron’s customary rages – which were frightening enough – but the implacable fury of a total madman. Without a further word, he brushed Reg aside and in his madness instantly took charge of what rapidly became a battle not only for the life of Jack McVitie but also for the soul of Reggie Kray.
No sooner had Ron heard that Jack McVitie was alive than he cleared the decks for action, and with the abrupt announcement that ‘this is going to be no place for women’ packed all the women and the younger men off to join another party which was conveniently in progress down the road. It’s hard to imagine that anyone was terribly upset by this, for by the sound of it Blonde Carol’s party can’t have been much fun, with Ronnie in the state that he was in; and apart from the Twins, the only males left behind were a fresh recruit to the Firm called Ronald Bender, two young Cypriot brothers, John and Chrissie Lambrianou, who had set their silly hearts on entering the Firm, two gay brothers called Mills who had spent the evening dancing with each other, and Reg’s cousin and companion in mourning, the ex-merchant navy sailor Ron Hart.
At this point in the evening Reg must have seemed completely useless compared with Ron who now took total charge. Mad though he was, there was not a hint of wavering or weakness about him now. The Colonel was back and firmly in command as he gave his orders to set the trap to deliver the unsuspecting Jack McVitie to his killer.
First, Ronnie Bender was to drive immediately to the Regency with an urgent message from Ron Kray to Barry, telling him, on pain of death, to come at once to Carol Skinner’s with the gun that Reg had left in his possession.
Next the two young Lambrianous were given their part to play. Ron had heard that they were friends of Jack McVitie, so it was up to them to follow Bender to the Regency, find McVitie and, without arousing his suspicions, invite him to join them at the party in progress at Carol Skinner’s – all this, of course, without mentioning a word about the Krays.
Finally, the Colonel had an important role for his cousin Ronald Hart who was to go to the empty flat upstairs and from one of the windows keep a sharp lookout for Jack’s arrival. As soon as he saw him he must scoot downstairs as fast as his legs would carry him to warn the Twins.
Throughout all this, Reg made no contribution whatsoever to what was going on – apart from drinking heavily to calm his nerves. In the state that he was in he must have found it hard to know quite how he felt about McVitie – or anything else. Not that it mattered any more what Reg was thinking. The Colonel, and he alone, had taken over and was in command.
A few minutes after midnight, from his lookout point in the upstairs room, Ron Hart saw a beaten-up Ford Zodiac draw up outside the house, and three occupants get out: the two young Lambrianous and a man in a hat – Jack McVitie. He was clearly in the best of spirits, for Hart stayed long enough to hear him laughing as they walked towards the house, at which point he followed orders and dashed down to the basement to raise the alarm.
It can’t have taken long, but for those waiting in the room it must have seemed an age before the door burst open and in came Jack the Hat in party mood.
‘Where are the birds and the booze?’ he shouted. Then he saw Ron sitting on a sofa in the middle of an empty room. What Jack didn’t see was that Reg was standing, gun in hand, behind the door, and before Jack had even realised that he was there Reg had tried to shoot him through the head. But this was a rare occasion when the history of the Twins was going to repeat itself and the same thing happened as when Ron had tried to shoot George Dixon in the bar of the Green Dragon a few weeks earlier.
Reg’s automatic jammed.
When he realised what was going on Jack seems to have thought he had a chance, for he remembered what had happened when Ronnie’s automatic had jammed and how Ron had let Dixon off with a warning and nothing more was said. So even if the Twins were angry and felt that he deserved a beating for not killing Leslie Payne, fair enough. Jack was perfectly prepared to take even a kicking without complaining. But Ron wasn’t going to give him the chance.
Jack must have recognised the warning signs on Ronnie’s face as those dead-black eyes of his began to bulge and incoherent grunts began emerging from his lips. By now the two gay brothers, sensing trouble, had made themselves scarce along with Chrissie Lambrianou who had wanted so desperately to be a gangster and who, seeing what was happening, was sitting outside on the stairs, weeping.
Although Reg had thrown away his useless automatic, those remaining in the room must have known by now that Jack would die. He must have known it himself. The only question that remained was how. Reg was still grappling with him from behind, and Ron was screaming curses at him and ordering Reg to kill him. But Jack was strong, and with the strength that comes from total desperation he suddenly broke free and dived for the window in the corner of the room which overlooked the garden.
He nearly made it. His chest and arms had actually passed through the window and the rest of him was just about to follow when his legs got stuck in the broken glass as he made one final lunge for freedom. But Jack was not to cheat death so easily and someone pulled him back. Who did this would always be a matter for dispute. It might have been Ronnie or it might have been Ron Hart, although Hart was always going to deny it.
‘Be a man, Jack!’ screamed Ron.
‘I’ll be a man, but I don’t
want to die like one,’ said Jack. But he was not being given the alternative. For by now it was Ron who held him pinioned from behind and Reg had replaced his useless automatic with a carving knife that someone had found in the kitchen. But even now Reg hesitated.
‘Kill him, Reg, Do him!’ hissed his brother. ‘Do it now!’
In his final dive for freedom through the window Jack had lost his hat. It would later be discovered on the windowsill where it had fallen as he struggled to escape. He stood there looking very bald and gaunt, with all the resistance out of him.
‘Reggie, why are you doing this to me?’ he asked pathetically. Reg answered with a thrust from the carving knife into his face below the eye – and the butchering of Jack McVitie started. It soon became more an orgy of rage than a coldblooded murder as Reg lost all control and set about him like a maniac, stabbing repeatedly at his chest and stomach with the knife. ‘It ended with Reg standing astride him and raising the knife until the point rested on his throat as though he was taking aim. Then, using all his strength, he shoved the knife down so hard that it impaled Jack on the floor.’
Later Reg would claim that Ron Hart joined in the killing, but this is unlikely. Hart had always been a friend of McVitie’s and Ron had been determined that Reg should do the murder on his own. Undoubtedly Hart did witness everything that happened, and later admitted to having pushed a handkerchief into McVitie’s mouth ‘to stop the flow of blood and the gurgling noises he was making.’ Hart also claimed that when Reg’s victim stopped breathing it was Ronnie Bender who put his ear to Jack McVitie’s chest and finally pronounced him dead.