Inside the Kray Family

by Rita Smith

  Cousin Joe took Auntie Violet and Uncle Charlie to see them a few times, but I never got the chance again because what with me working, my days off never seemed to coincide with the days they were going. The boys both wrote to me every week and I spoke to them on the phone three or four times I think, and every time, even after all they’d been through they still said, “Don’t worry, everything is fine”. So when they did finally come home I wasn’t prepared for the change that had taken place in such a short time.

  They seemed very confident; they’d filled out a lot, and they seemed much older than I expected after only two years. I suppose they were just as surprised to see that I had grown into a woman, but then from sixteen to eighteen dramatic changes happen to girls. So with them studying me and me doing the same to them, we were like strangers for a while. That soon passed and in no time at all we were having a laugh, the same as we always had.

  Well, not quite the same, but almost as near as we would ever be to those younger days. Ronnie seemed much more dominant than he used to be. Before, one would suggest something and they’d do it – or it would be the other, and more often than not they’d have the same idea at the same time. Now it seemed it was always Ron that was saying, “We’ve got to do this, Reg,” or “C’mon, Reg, we’re going out”. And Reg wouldn’t argue or question whatever it was. I’m not saying he was being ordered about because nobody could do that – it just seemed he was quite content to go along with whatever his brother suggested.

  I’d look at Ronnie with this new-found confidence and think to myself that it only seemed like days ago he was marching up and down outside the house with a wooden sword over his shoulder and a toy gun tucked in his belt, oblivious to everything. Billy would watch him out of the window and say to Nanny, “Look at him out there – he looks a right effing idiot”. She’d get all upset and say “No, don’t say that. He looks like a little soldier.”

  But those days were long gone and would never come back. I don’t think they had any great plans for what they wanted to do with themselves. Reg had the idea that he should get back into boxing so he stopped smoking and started going out for early morning runs and down the gym with Charlie, but his heart wasn’t in it and he gave it up after a few months and joined Ron, who’d been sitting around doing nothing since their release.

  The only money they had was when they could borrow off anyone who had some to spare, my Dad usually. I was earning a wage but they would never take a penny off of me, even when I offered – male pride, I suppose.

  It was about this time I started meeting men they had been mixing with for years – a lot of them not very nice people, though I wouldn’t realize that until much later. I took people at face value without knowing anything about their background, so when I was older and might mention a name in conversation, whoever I was talking to might say “Ooh, wasn’t you frightened?” Then they’d tell me that this one or that one was a terrible gangster or a murderer, but it wasn’t like that.

  One of these men I met was Jack Spot, who the twins called “Spotty” behind his back. I must have been very naïve because I’d never heard of him, even though at that time they say he was running all the criminal business in London. I was in the café in Wentworth Street where I’d gone to meet Reg and as I walked in the door and stood looking round, this man sitting with my cousin said, “Hello, green eyes. Come over here a minute.” As I walked over I heard Reg say, “That’s my cousin,” and Spotty’s manner changed because until then I think he had ideas of chatting me up. Mind you, he was good looking in a film tough guy sort of way, especially with the scar all down one cheek. On top of that he wore a grey trilby hat, which he took off when he spoke to me (I thought that was very polite) and in his hand a very long cigar. He was interesting to talk to and we chatted for a while, and that was that really. Rita Filler meets Gangland Legend, but I never thought of it like that, to me he was just another friend of Reggie’s.

  Another man who Reg and Ron introduced to me should really take some of the blame for the path those boys were heading down. Bobby Ramsey was about eleven or twelve years older than they were and they’d met him when they were sixteen. In a lot of ways he must have been everything they hoped they’d become. He’d made a good name for himself as a boxer, dressed really smart and drove around in a big red American car. What the boys must have known but I didn’t was that he worked for the gang boss Alfred Dimes and was up to all kinds of things with London gangsters. He was a tough exboxer and I suppose he was just the man they needed when it came to a bit of violence or intimidation at the race tracks. Thankfully, he never involved the twins in anything bad; at least nothing that ever came to light. But he would eventually, and as far as I’m concerned that would be the beginning of the end for my cousins – particularly Ronnie. Before this though Bobby took a fancy to me.

  Today I have to look at old photographs to remind myself just how nice looking I was back then. I always dressed well and with my green eyes and very long blond hair I shouldn’t have been surprised that this much older man should pester and pester to take me out. I was flattered because he was very handsome – even that boxer’s nose he had gave him that rugged look that women can’t resist. Trouble was I knew my mother would kill me if she knew how old he was. Then, like Reg used to do, he waited outside my work and gave me a tortoiseshell handbag and a ring with a large pearl set in it, which wasn’t really the way to my heart because I hated the look of both of these gifts. But he stood there looking so pleased that he’d pleased me that I gave in and said I’d go out with him. He took me to a show at the Hackney Empire and we had a lovely time. I must say, tearaway or not he treated me like a lady and behaved himself.

  He told me later that he’d asked all different people where would be a nice place to take me because he’d never been out with a decent girl before, which I thought was very sweet. He took me to the races a few times, dancing up the West End, and was always buying me bits and pieces. And I have to say, whatever reputation he had or was going to get he never did anything out of place with me and was always a gentleman.

  But I never did intend our relationship to go anywhere, especially what with Mum keep asking who this boy was who wouldn’t pick me up from the house. Then one day when I was passing our local tailors the Jewish man who ran the shop came out and told me that he’d seen me a few times with Bobby Ramsey, and as a friend was warning me that going out with a man like that could only end in trouble for me. I took his advice but only because I’d already made up my mind to finish it. Bobby didn’t take it too well but I just made a point of keeping out of his way.

  Some time later a couple of boys of our own age invited me and my friend to a party. As we walked into the flat, over the fireplace was a big photograph of a boxer. I said to somebody, “Who’s flat is this?” and they pointed at the picture and said, “His – Bobby Ramsey. He’s gone out for some beer.” We took off as fast as we could.

  I think the twins had a lot of respect for Ramsey, and were even in awe of him, otherwise they would not have let him approach me; which was something again I wasn’t aware of at the time – just how protective if not possessive of me they were behind the scenes, particularly Reg. I say they were possessive, but I think mainly Ron went along with what Reg did. As far as he was concerned he was only ever possessive about his twin.

  I’d go dancing with them both, not that I ever saw Ron take a girl on to the floor. He’d just sit there glaring. Reg was a good dancer and we’d have a good time doing the foxtrot or that Latin American dance. But if we spent too much time together, laughing and messing about, Ron would dodge through all the people and say to me, “You’ve got to go now, Rita. It’s getting late.” This might only be ten o’clock, but rather than let me argue he’d get me by the arm and walk me towards the cloakrooms. And Reg let him.

  Ron butting in like that happened quite a few times, and naïve me again, never gave it too much thought at the time. I should’ve wondered why he didn’t like us gettin
g too close, but I didn’t, and nor did I consider that he was seeing something that I’d missed completely.

  I accepted that Reg loved me like he would a sister until one night we were sitting indoors. As he got older he got more serious and didn’t go in for making silly remarks. He sat and looked at me for ages until I said, “What’s the matter? Have I got a spot on my nose?” “No,” he said, “no, I was just thinking that if you weren’t my cousin I’d marry you.” I can’t remember what I said, probably “Thank you, sir,” or something like that to turn it into a joke, but he didn’t laugh. Just said, “Time I went home”. He never said anything like it again, but it did make me think.

  I didn’t realize what a reputation they had by now nor, as I said earlier, how much they were looking out for me. If they didn’t think someone was suitable to take me out, he’d get a warning to stay away, and in my ignorance I’d be left wondering why I was only asked out for one date.

  I was at a dance one night and a man came up to me and started to make a nuisance of himself; nothing too serious and I wasn’t particularly worried, but he kept touching a necklace I was wearing, which I thought was getting too personal. Reg had seen what was going on and came over. And this is how he fooled people, because he never raised his voice and was polite. He asked the man to go away, but because he wasn’t shouting or angry the other man didn’t take him seriously and told him to piss off. Still very calm Reg led me away, called a cab and I went home. Somebody told me that as soon as I’d left Reg walked straight over and knocked him unconscious. The following week this man was made to stand in the middle of the dance floor and publicly apologize to me. I felt really sorry for him.

  When the twins had their clubs I often overheard different things because not everyone knew who I was. Men might say to each other – quietly I have to say – “I could do them two midgets any day,” or “Don’t those c—s fancy themselves,” and I’d be thinking, “Ooh, please don’t hear this, Reg and Ron,” because though they shouldn’t have been saying things, they were somebody’s sons and I knew what could happen to them.

  I went out with one young man two or three times. He was quite an ordinary sort of person and not involved with gangs or tearaways or anything like that. One night after he’d taken me home he set off walking home because he didn’t have a car or nothing. As he went up Eric Street and was just going to go past the billiard hall, a big hand came out of the darkness, grabbed him by the throat and dragged him inside. I won’t say what he told me that he nearly did, but I gathered he was a big frightened. He was taken into a back room, sat in a chair surrounded by all these fellas, then Reg and Ron came in demanding to know what his intentions were toward their cousin. Whatever answer he came up with must have satisfied the boys because I went out with him for quite a while. Though why he didn’t run a mile after an experience like that I’ll never know.

  When I said to the twins, “What did you have to go and do a thing like that for?” they just said, “We’re looking after you. There’s a lot of nasty people walking the streets.”

  Another time I was walking downWentworth Street with a young chap and he said to me, “What would your cousins do to me if they saw me out with you?” I said, “What do you mean? What are you saying?” He said, “Oh, I was just a bit worried they might do me over”. I couldn’t believe it. I told him, “Reg and Ron are nice – they wouldn’t do anything like that”. And I’ll always remember he gave me a funny look that didn’t mean a thing at the time, but would later on.

  People might think it’s a bit strange when I say that I didn’t really have any idea of how they were thought of then. What do people imagine they were like indoors and to the family? “Hello Mum, I cut a man’s face last night!” “All right, Rita? Just smashed a fella’s jaw in the club!” It never happened, and no one could expect it to. We knew they were tough and knew they got respect because of this, but don’t forget all our lives we’d known men that got the same. Only now do I know that a lot of the men that sat in our house drinking tea were really terrible villains, but growing up with them being friends or at least acquaintances of the family, I looked on a lot of them as almost uncles.

  The first time I saw Reg strike someone in anger as an adult just reinforced the fact that there was a side to these boys I didn’t really know. I was looking out of my bedroom window one night, just as it was starting to get dark. I saw a man bending down and doing something round the bottom of my dad’s car. I ran downstairs and asked dad if someone was mending the car and when he said no, I told him what I’d seen. He said, “You stay here,” and rushed outside to confront this man who was still there. Dad wasn’t that big and as far as I knew not a fighter, but he did have “bottle”, as they say. It turned out this big man was trying to steal the hubcaps, and then put them on his own car that was parked just up the road. There was a scuffle as the man ran off and tried to get in his car, but Dad pushed him away, leaned in and grabbed the keys – so there was going to be a fight. Mum wasn’t in and I was leaning out of the front door shouting, “Come indoors, Dad, quick”.

  Then Reg came walking down the road, hands in his pockets – really casual. I couldn’t hear but Dad told me after that Reg never got wild or nothing. He just asked what was going on and when he was told, said to the man, “Right, first I want you to apologize to my uncle, then I want you to get in your car and never show yourself round here again”. By this time the man must have realized who he was dealing with, and though he was much bigger than Reg he could hardly speak to Dad because he was so worried and relieved that it wasn’t worse. He put the hubcaps back on, said sorry to my dad, then as he turned to go Reg said, “Just one more thing,” and hit him full in the face and knocked him over the bonnet of the car. He was still lying there even after they both came indoors.

  Then the twins and a few others got into some serious trouble. And this is what I meant when I said Ramsey was no good for them, because what happened was all down to him.

  It seems that a gang of men who were called the Watney Street Mob had beaten up Bobby Ramsey. When he wanted to get his own back he came looking for Reg and Ron to help him out. I remember him coming that evening because I saw his car pull up from our window, and I thought I’m not opening the door because I thought he was looking for me. He wasn’t, and he went next door. The next thing he drove off with Ron and Billy Jones, who I knew vaguely. I had no reason to think that this was anything other than a boys’ night out. I was just a little bit surprised that Reg wasn’t with them – until he came knocking on our door in the early hours to tell us that Ron and the others had been arrested.

  He didn’t know all the details, but he kept walking up and down the room saying, “Those effing guns. I’ve told him they’d be trouble.” And that wasn’t like Reg at all because he never used words like that in front of me or any of the women in the family. I didn’t know Ron had guns but he did have lots of knives and a couple of old swords in their bedroom. I didn’t like them much but a lot of people collect that sort of thing so I never thought there was anything sinister about it.

  I got a shock the next day and Reg got a bigger one when about ten policemen came and arrested him as well. Afterward they came back and searched Auntie Violet’s house and Nanny’s but didn’t come into Rosie’s or ours. One of them went to open a cupboard door and Nanny said, “You don’t want to go in there, it’s full of mices”. And he shut it quickly and went downstairs. Could’ve been full of guns for all he knew, but he wasn’t going to look.

  Auntie Violet was quite upset by the whole thing and cried after they took Reg away. She kept saying, “The police must have made a mistake. You read about that sort of thing, don’t you?”

  Once they were bailed and back home I learned what had happened. The three of them – not Reg – had gone after two men to have a fight. They couldn’t find them so attacked the brother of one of them, Terry Martin. Bobby Ramsey had stuck a knife into him, and that really shook me when I thought I’d gone out with som
eone who could do such a thing. Ron hadn’t really done anything, but when they were stopped by the police they found a gun in his pocket and that was taken very seriously even back then.

  Over two months they had to wait before it went to court, and I’m sure I worried about it more than they did. Reg and Ron had a lot of arguments about what had happened, and nearly came to blows one time. But it seemed that the arguments were not so much about Reg being dragged in by the police when he was innocent, but more about why Ron had got involved without him. Perhaps if he had, the gun might not have been taken because Reg was never into using weapons. He often said, “If someone can’t look after themselves with just their fists, then they should stay at home and keep out of trouble”.

  The day they went to the Old Bailey I was at work, though I might as well not have been because I kept making mistakes with my machine because I felt sick. I went straight to Auntie Violet’s when I finished work, and as I walked in the door I knew the worst had happened. Uncle Charlie wasn’t there but my aunt had the front of her pinafore pulled over her face and was rocking backward and forward, while Reg sat at the table as white as a sheet. He tried to say something and it wouldn’t come out, then he managed, “Three years, Rita. He’s got three years.” Well, I just burst into tears. I walked round the table, put my hand on Violet’s shoulders and my arm round Reg, and we all cried. I wouldn’t look at his face though, not even when he let go and went into the kitchen and splashed around under the tap. That way we could pretend that he hadn’t let his guard down and shown what men think of as weakness.