The Incredible Rise of a Gorbals Gangster

by Colin MacFarlane

  As for Pinky and Perky, the IRA had already decided they were thumbs down material. Emperor Nero, a la Danny, had decided they were to be thrown to the Fenian lions.

  A wave of tiredness overcame him. He had taken an assortment of pills, all different colours that reminded him of Smarties. He drifted off to sleep for several hours. But then he was awakened by a soft voice, “Johnny it’s me. Wake up” He thought it was the voice of Cathy but when he opened his eyes it was Lorraine.

  She looked as pretty as ever, and like Cathy, the pregnancy had given her a glow. In fact, it was more than a glow, it was an aura, an aura of love. She was clutching a bunch of grapes and a bottle of Lucozade, par for the course.

  She sat beside his bed and held his hand, “Oh Johnny, those bastards could have murdered you. At least you’re alive and on the road tae recovery and our wee baby still has a father!”

  He was lost for words, there was no way he wanted to be a father to her baby. Cathy was a different matter. He felt that in such situations it was better not to do or say anything that might in anyway cement their relationship, or rather the lack of it. A drunken shag behind the Railway Club had led to this! To placate Lorraine, and appear to seem normal, he put a handful of the hated grapes in his mouth and took a sip of the equally hated Lucozade. “Nice, nice,” he pretended.

  “So, when dae ye think you’ll be getting out of hospital Johnny?” she said with pleading eyes.

  “Depends what the doctor says. Those bastards in the close gave me a good doing over, so it’s aw taking a bit of time tae heal.”

  Lorraine grasped his hand tightly. He could clearly see she was madly in love with him. Indeed, they had a love-hate relationship, she loved him but he hated her. She said, “Ah cannae wait for ye tae get better because we’ve got a lot of planning to do for our baby.” The way she stressed “our” sent a shiver down his spine. “So, what sort of planning have ye got in mind, Lorraine?” he said. She clarified the matter, “We’ve got to get baby clothes, a cot and a pram. And we’ll have tae work out where we’re gonnae live when we get married.” Johnny kept up his pretence of enthusiasm, “You’ve got it all worked out Lorraine, you’re smarter than you look.”

  “Aye and you’re dafter than you look.” She laughed like a schoolgirl, thinking she was going to get married. Also she did not know about the Cathy situation and the fact that she was also pregnant with his baby.

  He sighed, he had been involved in gang fights, involving dozens of guys that had been far less complicated than being involved with two pregnant women. How was he going to get out of this dreadful mess? Only time and a degree of cunning would tell. It would also involve telling a lot of lies which, in reality, was not a problem.

  Lorraine rose to leave. She looked at him and said, “You know ah love you to bits. But do you love me?” At times like this he could be a good actor, “Of course ah do.” She kissed him on the cheek and left. Oscar winning performance from the main man. As he was thinking this, Malky appeared by his bedside. He had obviously been drinking. His breath smelt heavily of cheap wine, “Just saw that bird Lorraine leave, a smashing looking bit of stuff. Ah’ve fancied her for ages. She been in here tae see you?”

  It was obvious Malky did not know about his connection with Lorraine and the pregnancy, “Yeah she’s nice but no’ ma type Malky. Ah think she’s more your type. In fact, she told me she quite fancies you. So you’re in there man!”

  Malky sort of blushed, perhaps it was the wine, “Fancies me? A great looking bird like that. Ah should be so lucky.”

  “Malky, no’ kidding, she’s mad about you.” Malky rubbed his hands in glee, “Well, we’ll have to dae something about that soon, probably when you’re back oot and fighting fit.” Johnny was secretly pleased his pal had swallowed the bait.

  Malky left the ward laughing and felt invigorated that Lorraine rather fancied him. Perhaps they might even get married! Johnny grinned to himself. Sure, he must be getting better, his street cunning had come back. This was after all the human jungle. To survive in the Gorbals he had to be as sly as a fox and as cunning as a wolf.

  Chapter 37

  CHANGES

  When Johnny eventually left hospital he was definitely on the mend. He thought rather jokingly that perhaps the overdose of Lucozade and grapes had worked wonders after all. His injuries had been quick to heal and after no time at all he dispensed with the crutches then progressed onto a walking stick, the kind he used to see pensioners walking about with, in the Gorbals. To some, his injuries only enhanced his reputation. But to others, who were more cynical, his beating had diminished his reputation, with some saying he was not the man he used to be. Some of his up-and-coming rivals could smell weakness but now was not time for a gang leadership takeover.

  Johnny was still leader of the Cumbie gang and still highly respected by the majority of its members. But there were up and coming guys like Goo Goo who instinctively knew that when the time was right they would take over. When Johnny came out of hospital, with its grapes and Lucozade hell, he did feel like a changed man. Perhaps he was just getting older. Perhaps the beating had knocked some sense into him. Perhaps becoming a father to two babies had given him some kind of maturity. Perhaps! Perhaps! Perhaps! As he walked through the streets of the Gorbals, he did notice one thing. The streets and their tenements were being knocked down in a dramatic and speedy fashion.

  The authorities had decided to kill the Gorbals off once and for all. The publication of No Mean City in 1935 had done the area no favours, bolstering its image as one of the roughest places in Britain. The novel reinforced the images of violence, poverty and drunkenness as an accepted way of life.

  The local MP had stood in the House of Commons and lambasted the place, basically saying it would be better to knock the Gorbals down and redevelop the area. But with these plans there was barely any consideration for the destruction of a once great community. The Gorbals in the 1970s was not what it used to be, it was going through a metamorphosis and Johnny felt the same. He had to change with the times. The destruction of hundreds of tenements meant that many of the guys Johnny knew, and had been brought up with, were now making money from numerous scams, including robbing gas meters full of coins in deserted tenement flats, stealing lead from roofs, and even searching down the back of discarded sofas for any notes and coins that may have fallen there.

  As he walked through Gorbals Cross he bumped into Goo Goo and other young members of the Cumbie gang. They had been breaking into gas meters in all the empty tenements and were loaded, well loaded with coins. Johnny was invited to join them in Derry Treanor’s bar in Gorbals Street. He took up the offer gladly. A pint of Guinness would be a nice change from his Lucozade days. Johnny sat down with Goo Goo and half a dozen of his young comrades. Some of them looked at him in awe, it was like having a star in their presence. He was a man with a fearless reputation, a man who had fought his way over the years to become leader of the gang. It was an incredible story. But an astute young guy like Goo Goo could see the beating had left Johnny a diminished figure. It had made him look older.

  Johnny felt a twinge of pain going through his body and felt weak, but he kept up the pretence of being the fearless gang leader, “So what’s been happening boys while ah was in hospital?” Goo Goo took a swig of his pint and said, “Ach, the same auld shite, Johnny. We’ve had a few run-ins wi’ the Tongs, the San Toi and the Derry but we’ve never been beaten.

  “Good!” Johnny said lifting his glass, “The Cumbie will never be beaten. Cumbie ya bass!” The other guys raised their pints and shouted in unison, “Cumbie, ya bass!” He looked at the young guys, how virile, how gallus they looked. He had been like this once, as gallus as fuck. These young guys were following in his footsteps and had the same gear on, Arthur Black shirts and Levis. This was the new generation of the gang which Goo Goo would eventually lead.

  He looked at Johnny, “Is there anything we can dae for you about those cowards who put you in hospital?” Johnn
y waved his hand in a dismissive manner, “Nah, its awright ah’ve got ma own men on it. It’s all sorted or should be soon.” Goo Goo was impressed, up until then he thought Johnny was a finished man.

  Johnny left the young guys in good spirits. It was interesting that Goo Goo had made him such an offer. This would not have happened in the past. Was it because Goo Goo had sensed that he was weaker than before? Or was it just a fact that Goo Goo and the boys were now growing up so fast it was time for older guys like him to move on? Move on to marriage! Move on to having children! Move on to a 9-5 job! He contemplated this as he walked towards the Mally Arms. The future awaited him. They would eventually take over, but not yet. He was still the undisputed leader of the Cumbie gang and no-one would dare argue with that.

  He went into the Mally lounge and stuck a few coins into the juke box. He laughed when he saw listed Pinky and Perky singing “When The Saints Go Marching In” of course it was a speeded up version with squeaky voices.

  He wondered whether the IRA had caught up with the Belfast Pinky and Perky and whether they were being tortured at this very moment. He sat down with his pint and pondered his next move. His leg was strengthening and in a few days would throw away the stick. It was making him look too weak. He had a few weeks to play with and during that time Pinky and Perky, the McCoys, and the Lorraine problem would all be sorted, or so he thought. He thought of them as hurdles that he needed to overcome. Like a horse at the Grand National jumping over hurdles at Aintree. As he was thinking this, a man in his late 50s approached his table and plonked his pint down. He was scruffy and unshaven with thick, greasy black hair. Johnny was unsure who he was but had seen his face about the place.

  The man looked at him and said, “Awright son?” It was said in a friendly way as if they might have some connection. “Aye,” Johnny replied, “Just came in for a pint and tae listen tae a few records.”

  “What? Fucking Pinky and Perky? Can you no’ stick on somebody like Tom Jones?”

  “It’s not unusual!” Johnny joked back. As he did so he noticed an overwhelming smell of fish coming from the man. “Phew, there’s some smell of fish in here,” he said.

  The scruffy man had an apologetic look on his face, “Sorry about that son, it’s me, ah work as a porter at the Glesga fish market.” This jogged Johnny’s memory. Stinking of fish and working as a porter? How did he know this man?

  The fish porter knocked back a large Bell’s whisky and then said, “Johnny McGrath? Am ah right?”

  “You sure are.”

  “Well, ah hope you are going to dae the right thing by ma daughter.”

  “Daughter?”

  “Lorraine ya stupid bastard. You’ve put her up the stick, now it’s time for you stand up and show you are a man by marrying her.”

  Johnny gulped, this could be his future father-in-law. A dirty looking man with a foul mouth who smelt of fish!

  “Aye, me and Lorraine have tae have a good talk about it and to decide what we are gonnae dae.”

  The fish porter did not looked pleased, “You’d better start making arrangements soon. Ah cannae wait tae walk ma daughter doon the aisle”

  Johnny was taken aback thinking that this man expected to attend a wedding reeking of fish. In reality, as the say in the Gorbals parlance, the fish porter had two hopes, Bob Hope and no hope.

  Johnny was once again very economical with the truth, “Lorraine is a fine looking lassie. She’ll make a fine mother.”

  The fish porter looked Johnny straight in the eye, “And she’ll make a fine wife for you and I’ll be your perfect father in law.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Johnny said putting on a massive false grin. He went to the bar and brought back two double whiskies, “To Lorraine and the baby,” he toasted. The fish porter looked pleased, “Aye to Lorraine, you and the baby. Good times are just around the corner!”

  After a few more rounds of double whiskies he bade the fish porter farewell. The drunk porter rose from the table and gave him a sloppy wet kiss on the cheek, “You’re the best son in law a man could wish for,” he said. Johnny left the pub thinking that the slobbery drunken kiss had left a strong smell of fish on his cheek. But he consoled himself thinking that his “future father in law” had not suspected a thing. It was all Lies! Lies! Lies! Lorraine and her father had dreams that were castles in the sand which would be eventually washed away by the sands of time.

  Chapter 38

  NO SURRENDER

  A few days later he was walking along Rutherglen Road when a car pulled up beside him. The window was down on the driver’s side, a man with a thick Irish brogue shouted, “Hey Johnny, Danny the main man wants to see you.” Johnny looked at the driver it was the same Irish fellow he had encountered before at the first meeting in the Gorbals and then when he exchanged the guns in Portpatrick. He jumped in and was taken to a tenement in Florence Street. He was led to a top floor flat, knocked on the door, and it was opened by Danny. The flat was filthy, even by Gorbals standards. It had a vacant dirty look about it, odd pieces of furniture and there was an overwhelming smell of damp.

  In the corner there was a manky looking bed with what appeared to be a large dead rat lying on it. He thought the rat looked peaceful as if it had died with a smile on its face. Danny pointed to it, “Would you look at that big bastard lying there. One of the boys woke up and caught it trying to eat his face, so he kicked it to death.”

  Johnny smiled, the whole scenario seemed ludicrous. Only in the Gorbals would you find the IRA having to assassinate a rat. “So, what’s new Danny?” he said.

  Danny grimaced, “The news is we’ve got Pinky and Perky and the other two eejits you were after.” Johnny replied, “You haven’t killed them, have you?”

  Danny laughed, “Nah, the only thing we’ve killed today is that rat. The other rats you were looking for are still alive, just.”

  He led him into a back room. John the Irishman from the dancehall was there and had a large baseball bat in his hand, smeared in blood. There were four bloodied and bruised men tied to chairs. Because their faces were so bloodied and bruised he failed to recognise them at first.

  But after a few minutes he recognised who the men were, Pinky and Perky, McCoy and his father. Both the McCoys were simpering with pain. But Pinky and Perky were quiet, two obstinate UVF men who were used to living by the King Billy motto, “No Surrender.”

  He looked at McCoy senior and his son, “Why did you set fire to ma house? Ya pair of cowardly bastards.” McCoy senior spat out a mouthful of blood and sounded diplomatic, almost apologetic. “We didnae set fire to you house it was those two there,” he nodded towards Pinky and Perky, “We would have been happy to have given you a doing but they wanted tae go further when they heard you were a Catholic.”

  McCoy junior nodded his bloodied head in agreement. Johnny thought both of them looked pathetic. They had been well battered and tortured. It had robbed them of their dignity. Johnny was taken aback by what happened next. McCoy junior began sobbing like a baby, “We would never have considered setting fire to your house. But they made up their own minds tae dae it. We tried tae stop them but they went ahead anyway.” McCoy senior agreed, “We should not have got involved with those two Orange bastards, they told us they were used to burning down people’s houses in Belfast.”

  Johnny said to the young McCoy, “Awright then, why did you attack me in the close?” McCoy junior’s nose began to flow with blood, “It was revenge, remember you put me in hospital first. So, it was an eye for an eye.” He understood the pathetic plea of mitigation. McCoy junior was perfectly right, he had put him in hospital first and the laws of the Gorbals human jungle meant there had to be a comeback. He stood before Pink and Perky, “Why did ye try to set fire to ma house, trying to murder me and ma family?”

  Pinky looked up from his chair. The beating had left one of his eyes closed. He had a different attitude to the McCoys, “Because you are a dirty Fenian bastard. And all of you should be set on fire.�
� He then spat on the floor. Johnny knew the Irish to be an obstinate race but he thought Pinky and Perky had taken it a bit too far.

  “And what have you got to say for yourself?” he said to Perky. The UVF man looked at him with a face of hate, “You think you are a big man with your IRA pals but you’re fuck all tae me. No surrender!” he shouted.

  Johnny was confused as what to do, Pinky and Perky were so badly beaten it would have been pointless to hit them anymore. He would let the IRA deal with them. As for the McCoys, he weighed up the situation. They had admitted they did not set fire to his house but had taken a hand in his beating. That was about par for the course. It was his own stupid fault that he had got drunk and let his guard down. But the McCoys did not deserve to die for that. Danny took him back into the room with the dead rat on the bed. He said, “Right Johnny, Pinky and Perky are a couple of rats and are going to die like that dirty vermin on the bed. But what do you want us to do with the McCoy idiots?”

  Johnny thought for a moment and then said, “Ah don’t care what you dae wi’ Pinky and Perky, but you can let those McCoy bampots go, ah think they’ve learnt their lesson”

  Danny nodded his head in agreement, “Awright, good decision but if those McCoy bastards mention any of this to the police, they are dead men walking. Ok?”

  “Aye OK, now ah’ve got tae get tae fuck oot o here.” Johnny said making a swift exit. The behaviour of Pinky and Perky had disturbed him. They were bigots, obstinate bigots who were used to burning Fenians to death. But they had met their match with the IRA. Danny would be their judge and jury and no doubt sentence them to oblivion. The McCoys were a different matter. A father who had stood up for his son. There was nothing wrong with that, at least he had shown he was still game. Still gallus enough to attack him in the close. He suddenly felt respect for the man and his son. But when he thought of Pinky and Perky, insane, murderous bastards, they deserved all they got.