Cathy was a good wife and mother and Johnny, at least on a Sunday, made a big effort to be a good husband and father. When he was not in gangster mode on his day off, he made the conscious decision to dress down. He could be seen with his family in places like the Glasgow Green, usually dressed in a black t-shirt with black jeans to match. The dress style signified that he was not on duty and did not want to be approached on any business matters. But come Monday, the flashy suit was back on and it was business as usual.
One day, he, Archie and Kenny, were sitting in Cha Pa Pa’s chippy in Crown Street when they were approached by a fat, prosperous-looking man dressed in a three piece suit. He said to Johnny, “Is it all right to have a wee word?” He was invited to join them. They instantly knew the guy, he was a legit bookmaker who had betting shops all over Glasgow and the rest of Scotland. “I’ve got a problem that I want you to sort out,” he said. Johnny replied, “Oh aye, what’s the problem man?” The bookie shuffled nervously on his feet, “A gang of chancers have been going at the demands for money. They say if I don’t cough up they’re are gonnae wreck my shops and put me out of business.”
Johnny asked their names but they were a bunch of nobodies who were not in the same league as his mob.
They could be got rid of as easily as swatting a fly but he pretended to the bookie the situation was far worse than it was, “That’s a heavy mob you are talking about. You’re right, they could put you out of business unless something is done straight away.” The bookie, who had a fat, ruddy face began to sweat profusely, “So, what can you do for me son?” Johnny kept up the pretence of the threatening guys being a danger, but they were in fact a bunch of mugs. He said, “Those guys will need to get sorted out, but it’ll take manpower and money, so it’ll no’ be cheap.”
The fat bookmaker looked relieved, “I don’t really care how much it costs as long as I get them out of my hair.”
“How many shops you got?” Johnny asked.
“Twenty in Glasgow and the rest of Scotland”
Johnny smirked, “No problem, pal. If you take out an insurance policy with us, we’ll protect you straight away. But we’ll need a payment up front.”
“How much?” the bookie said nervously.
Johnny thought he’d push his luck, he knew the bookie was desperate, “Two grand up front and you pay a premium every month for our protection.” The bookie suddenly looked relieved as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Oh, that sounds reasonable. Can you come with me to the bank?” Johnny and his boys went outside where a red Rolls Royce was waiting, an incongruous sight in the Gorbals. The bookie had a chauffeur who drove them to a bank in the city centre. Archie went inside with the bookie to withdraw the money. They came back with £2,000 in crisp banknotes. They were dropped back in the Gorbals. Archie said, “That fat bookie bastard must have some dough tae afford a red Rolls Royce and a chauffeur. Ah think he got us cheap!”
“Nah,” Kenny replied, “He’ll be making substantial payments every month, so the odds are well in our favour. Easy money!”
Archie laughed, “Too right, ah’ve given the bookies planty of dosh over the years, its time we got it back!”
They soon found out where the main instigator of the gang who had threatened the bookie lived, a tenement in Cumberland Street. The guy, Dom Donnelly, aged 23, really was a nobody but had delusions of grandeur.
He lived in a fantasy world thinking he was a top notch mobster. But when faced with real gangsters like Johnny and his boys he shat himself. Archie said to him in a menacing voice, “We hear you’ve been causing a bit of bother wi’ a bookmaker pal of ours.”
Donnelly was frightened and began to stutter, “N… n… no b...b... boys it’s aw a b… b… bit of a mis… misund… misundertanding.”
Kenny grabbed him by the throat and held a razor to his face, “It fucking better be otherwise you’ll be getting this.”
Donnelly began shaking uncontrollably, “Oh… nae t… t… trouble, boys. Ah’ll no, no be, be b… bothering him again.”
They left it at that, Donnelly had got the message. They told Johnny who had been waiting in the car outside, “That wanker pissed in his pants when he saw us. We’ll no’ be having any bother from him again.” Johnny smiled in the back seat, “Thought so, that tube is a Walter Mitty but we’ll keep up the pretence to the bookie that Donnelly is a real threat and we’ll get him to pay plenty of protection money.” Both Archie and Kenny had been increasingly impressed with Johnny’s Machiavellian skills and nodded in agreement.
“Aye, we’ll screw the bastard for a right few bob,” Archie said in a tone that sounded more comical than aggressive.
They parked the car and went for a walk through the Gorbals, or rather what was left of it. Every day, tenements were being pulled down all over the place. The Gorbals was definitely disintegrating like a prehistoric monster. As one tenement was being pulled down in Thistle Street, Archie said to Johnny, “Would you look at that! Ma mother was born and brought up in that tenement and now it’s a pile of rubble. Same wi’ ma father’s old tenement, it’s as if they are trying to wipe us off the face of the Earth.”
Johnny shrugged his shoulders, “Maybe, Archie, but while a lot of buildings are still standing and there are people about who need our services, we carry on regardless.”
On his way back to his house in the high flats, Johnny bumped into wee Alex. He was standing at a corner in Ballater Street with another guy smoking a large joint. He was surprised. He knew Alex liked a good bevvy but had never seen him smoke drugs before. “Hey Johnny boy, fancy a smoke?” Alex shouted. He turned down the offer, “Nah, Alex, ah don’t touch the Bob Hope. When did you start on the wacky backy?” Alex laughed, blew out a fume of smoke and said, “A couple of months ago. It gi’s you a better hit than the wine or lager and can work out cheaper than buying a carry oot. Try some, for fuck’s sake.”
Johnny once again turned down the offer of the joint and walked away, thinking that perhaps it was a sign of the times. Drugs looked like they were on the way to replacing alcohol. It had become the in thing.
When he got back to Bobby’s flat, he told him of the lucrative protection deal he had done with the bookie. Bobby was impressed, “Good work, son, this will be excellent business for us. A right few bob. Is there any other news?”
Johnny told him about his interaction with the drug smoking Alex. Bobby looked slightly worried and pondered the situation, “Maybe you’re right, maybe times are changing. Big Arthur has been in contact saying the drug floodgates have opened and we’ve got to be involved. I hate drugs, but the public gets what the public wants.”
Johnny nodded his head in agreement, “It sure is a sign of the changing times when somebody like wee Alex is smoking a joint. Usually he’d be stoned on a bottle of Eldorado wine.”
Bobby replied, “Aye, you’re right. Cannabis is as easy to buy now as cheap wine. Maybe it’s time we changed our policy. Ah know big Arthur has.” Johnny was taken by surprise at Bobby’s change of attitude to drugs. But the gangster business was like any other business, it was all about supply and demand. If people wanted drugs it was their duty to supply them, it was as simple as that.
Chapter 55
CONTROL
Over the next few weeks Bobby and Johnny formulated a battle plan and had numerous conversations about the drug business. “The way I see it,” Johnny said, “Smoking the marijuana is less harmful than going on an alcoholic binge. What ah noticed about wee Alex was with the bevvy he usually wants tae fight but the hash made him the complete opposite.” Bobby said, “I’ll tell you what, if they invented alcohol today it would be banned as a dangerous substance. Ah mean, how many people do you know who have ended up in Barlinnie because of the drink? Plenty. Barlinnie is full of bevvy merchants.”
“What do you think of cocaine?” Johnny asked. Bobby smiled and gave a mocking laugh, “Cocaine? All those posh young guys love putting it up their noses. It gives them confidence in
their high flying jobs, but they can fucking afford it.”
Both of them came to the conclusion that they would stay clear of heroin and as Bobby said, “All those dirty bastards injecting themselves with needles! Nah, we’ll steer clear of that palaver. Let Arthur and all the other bampots on the street deal in that. There’s enough money in cocaine and cannabis to keep us going.” So far, their drug dealing had been confined to just talk. Big Arthur had built up his drug connections but Bobby wanted to construct his own set-up, being careful he would not step on the godfather’s toes. He would also guarantee Arthur a cut of his turnover.
Because of this, Arthur agreed not to stand in his way. But during one phone call between them, they were convinced their phones were being tapped. Any phone calls from then on had to be in code. If Arthur rang Bobby and said, “Fancy a fish supper?” it meant he wanted a meeting. It sounded banal but it worked. If they were being monitored and recorded by the police they couldn’t exactly be prosecuted for fancying a fish supper, could they? The best thing to do though was phone each other from and to telephone boxes at an agreed time. Bobby and Johnny embarked on setting up their drug supply network. Bobby told Johnny, “Ah’ve got this pal in Marbella, Spain, and he’s doing well out of the Charlie and hash game. His name is Patrick and ah trust him completely, he’ll no’ rip us off either. We went to school together and we’re auld pals going back to when we were in short trousers. By the way, have you got a passport Johnny?”
Johnny said no, as he had never been on holiday abroad before. The furthest he had been was a caravan in Costa Del Troon on the Ayrshire coast. Bobby had had a passport for the past five years. Indeed, he loved going on holiday to places like Marbella, Majorca and Menorca, so he was pretty familiar with the Spanish way of life.
His childhood friend Pat had also taken to the Spanish lifestyle and from the proceeds of his drug business he set up a swanky restaurant in Marbella, which was frequented by the jet set – millionaire businessmen, film stars and footballers. Pat, a squat man in his 50s, had a fast line in patter and prided himself that he had come a long way from his upbringing in a crumbling Gorbals tenement. Bobby summed up his pal, “When Pat went over tae Spain he didnae have a pot tae pish in, now he’s a millionaire.” Spurred on by this, Johnny set about getting his passport.
As he cruised about the Gorbals with Archie and Kenny he could feel he was going up in the world. The banking, betting and insurance business was good but in his mind, he was now set to be an international businessman with connections on the Costa del Sol.
He obtained a passport and showed it to Bobby. He laughed when he saw Johnny’s picture, “Ah’ll tell you what it disnae dae you justice, you look like an ugly bastard!” They then got down to serious business. Bobby arranged for them to fly from Glasgow Airport to Malaga where they would be picked up and driven to Marbella. But Johnny was given strict instructions not to tell anyone about their trip, not even Cathy. He would tell her he was going to the Ayrshire coast with her father to “examine business opportunities.”
Besides, Bobby was aware that if their trip to Marbella leaked out it might lead to the ears of the police who would be highly suspicious. They flew off to Malaga the next week. Johnny had never flown before but loved every minute of the flight, it felt so glamorous. He was now experiencing the big time and savoured every moment. He was dying to celebrate his elevation in status by having a drink on the plane but Bobby cautioned against it, “We’ll do that when we finish the deal. Meanwhile, we’ll have tae be as sharp as fuck, and sober, to get our supply chain and network on the move. It’s all about preparation- failure to prepare is preparing to fail.”
When they arrived in Malaga it was baking hot. Johnny had never experienced heat like it. He had grown up feeling cold in the damp tenements of the Gorbals and had often yearned for heat. But this heat was almost unbearable. Waiting for them at the airport was Pat. At first Johnny thought he was an Asian man. But when he opened his mouth, with a thick Gorbals accent, he realised it was Pat with a deep golden suntan.
He greeted them warmly and led them to a yellow Porsche parked outside. He drove them along the coast to Marbella. Johnny was overawed not only by the brilliant sunshine but the scenery and wealth that seemed to abound along the coast – flash cars, big boats, fancy restaurants and hotels, this was a world away from the Gorbals.
Pat had indeed done well for himself. As he drove he turned on the patter, “Ah don’t know how the fuck you can cope living in Glasgow. It’s always cold and raining there. Here it’s like paradise, that’s why ah love it.” Bobby and Johnny could not disagree.
At one point they were suffering from such an inferiority complex they were lost for words. If this was paradise, what was the Gorbals? Hell? Pat had a villa on the outskirts of Marbella with large gardens and terrific sea views. “Welcome to ma wee tenement in the sun!” He joked.
After they had unpacked and settled in, Pat took them to his restaurant called “Velvet”, in Puerto Banus. It was jam packed, full of beautiful people – glamorous models, businessmen and stars. Many of them were drinking champagne. The wealth on display in the Rogano in Glasgow was nothing compared to this. It almost took Johnny’s breath away.
They had a fine four course dinner and some wine (but not enough to get drunk) and Monte Cristo cigars, and although Johnny did not smoke normally, he enjoyed puffing away. This was the life, man, definitely the big time. In fact it was incredible.They got back to Pat’s villa and straight to business. Pat said, “Right then boys it’s all about setting you up a network which I can take care of. First of all, hash. I can ship it in from Morocco, just over the water. From here, we can ship it, usually disguised in big freight boats to the west coast of Scotland. All’s you’ve got to do is arrange for it to be picked up by a couple of your guys who will then take it to Glasgow.
The cocaine comes via Amsterdam. We can also ship this into Scotland as well or we can use small light aircraft to fly it there, usually to a small airport. But flying in the stuff can be a bit more expensive. Shipping is more popular and no’ as dear. Up to you.”
Johnny was amazed at how simple it all seemed. Why had they not thought of this before? Instead of beating the fuck out of some numpty in the Gorbals who owed a few quid they now had a chance to make some real money mingling with the jet set of Marbella. But his boss, Bobby, was less of a dreamer and more pragmatic about the situation. Unlike Johnny, he had experienced the baking hot sun before and witnessed the antics of the so called jet-set. It was not really his scene. They could keep the sun, boats and flash cars, to him the Gorbals was still the best place in the world to live. He said to Pat, “Aw this glamorous bullshit disnae impress me. Ah admire what you have achieved and you’re a great pal but we’re no’ here to mess about wi’ the jet set, but to make money. So, Pat, what do you need up front?”
Pat was quick to reply, “Ten grand up front. And another ten grand when you receive the first shipment.” Johnny thought the figures were insane but Bobby replied, “No bother, ah’ll sort it out by next week through your man in Glasgow. He’ll get the first ten grand by Monday.” The three of them shook hands on the deal. Bobby told Johnny he had cash hidden away “for a rainy day” and there was no problem making the initial payments. They stayed for three days and enjoyed themselves. Pat took them on a guided tour of the Costa del Sol, places like Estapona, Torremolinos and even Gibraltar.
Johnny was amazed that this little piece of Britain, with its English pubs and policemen, existed.
They also went for “a wee cruise” on Pat’s 25ft boat, drinking champagne for the duration of the two hour trip. On their final night, Pat laid on a party for them at his restaurant. There was booze and a buffet for about 50 glamorous and influential people. At the end of the night Johnny and Bobby were in the company of two beautiful Swedish blondes. Johnny had the suspicion that they were two high class hookers that had been laid on for them.
They headed back to the villa, taking each blonde
back to their individual rooms. In the morning Bobby looked pleased with himself, like the cat who had got the cream. He knew Johnny had slept with the other blonde saying, “For fuck’s sake, if this ever gets back to our women there will be blue murder. But remember what happens on tour, stays on tour.”
When Johnny arrived back at his flat in the Gorbals, Cathy gave him a suspicious look. “That’s some tan you’ve got fae Troon.”
“Aye,” Johnny replied, “It’s always sunny on the Ayrshire coast. You cannae beat it. Give me Troon any day over places like Spain. There’s no place like Scotland.”
Chapter 56
BAWHEID
The wheels had been set in motion. Now they had to restructure the organisation so that everything was running as smoothly as possible. Johnny was made head of distribution, which meant he would co-ordinate the shipments of drugs coming in and to distribute them accordingly. Archie was made head of transport, arranging for men and vehicles to pick the gear up. Kenny was put in charge of accountancy, calculating mark ups and profits, which he was very good at.
Because Johnny, Archie and Kenny had all been promoted, new men were drafted in. Bobby’s cousin Joe, a guy in his 50s, became Johnny’s driver and a young guy called Jake took over Kenny’s role as the guy fixing the odds on the betting side. Bobby had drawn up the system on a piece of paper. It was like a pyramid and he was at the top. Johnny was underneath him, with Archie and Kenny reporting directly to them. The other guys made up the pyramid right down to the street dealers and low-level enforcers who made sure the money flowed in from the punters. Bobby’s organisation more or less controlled the south side of the city and adjacent areas. Big Arthur had the largest slice of the cake, concentrating on the rest of Glasgow’s drug trade but of course, had a cut of the south side profits also.
The Incredible Rise of a Gorbals Gangster Page 30