by Rita Smith
Anyway, Johnny left Tommy out of the picture because there are certain limits as to how far an ordinary bloke will go, but a long time after my uncle and a pal of his came across the geezer who’d ripped him off and beat him senseless. Reckons it was worth the hundred for the satisfaction it gave him.
Apart from the twins I don’t think any of us in the family went out looking for trouble, but if it came or somebody took the piss, there was plenty of bottle in all the Lees and whoever put themselves up got well paid for their trouble.
Like the time somebody had a go at my old man. He was working at Billingsgate and some other fella, an ex-boxer and a bit saucy with it, said something or other out of order to Dad. Being a bit quick tempered he didn’t need a lot of pulling so he’s said something back and the next thing is they’re both at it hammer and tongs. He was pushing on a bit then, but being like his own father, age never stopped him having a go, and he was sorting this ex-boxer out good and proper until the bloke’s brother jumped on his back and brought him down to his knees.
This brother had a few things to say about the twins; that they was fuck-all without Ramsey behind them, that they were nothing, and of course the old man’s mentioned what he’d been up against when he saw his nephews next time. A week or so later this geezer’s training over Victoria Park and along comes Reg with Big Tommy Brown. Reg has got him by the throat and said, “Think you’re a bit tasty knocking about an elderly man do you? Well have some of this.” And he beat the shit out of him. And did he.
What with Aunt Rose and Grandad pumping into him over the years that one punch against you meant ten back, he always went the extra mile, and with one thing and another I don’t think that fella walked again for a long time.
Really that’s the only sort of justice people like that respected. If the old man had called the coppers what would have happened? Nothing. Wouldn’t have even gone to court. And the bloke that was nicking Uncle Albert’s hubcaps? Two pound fine – don’t do it again. As it was they got their desserts and probably thought twice about getting leery again.
Talking of Tommy Brown, now there was a bloke who was more than handy to have in your corner. I grew up with him being around because he was a good friend of my father’s, and I often went with Dad to either Devonshire Hall or Jack Straw’s Castle to watch him boxing or sparring. I’d get the gloves on against him when I was a nipper, same as we all did with the fighters that came through our door, and he’d be up there, six and a half feet tall and I’d be about two foot high, giving his knees what for. He was a giant when I was a kid and the same when I grew up.
Somebody told me that he was giving his missus Dot a driving lesson in a Mini when she did something wrong and some geezer behind got a bit upset, so he’s overtaken them, cut in and forced them to pull over – road rage they call it now. Well he’s jumped out of his motor swearing and ready for a go until Tommy unfolds himself out of this little motor and stood up. The geezer’s gone “Oh”, jumped back in his car and took off at a hundred miles an hour.
He thought the world of the twins and later on wherever they were, he was. Whenever Reg disappeared overnight you could always bet your life he was over Tommy’s caravan. They were like travelling people – went all over the place, but when they were around London they always parked up on a bit of waste ground in Devons Road, Bow.
Dot told me that Reg would call in latish in the evening and sit fidgeting until she told him to take his shoes off and relax. Then he’d start yawning and she’d ask him if he wanted to stay the night – bosh – he’s got himself tucked up behind the screens at one end in two minutes flat. That’s what Reg had been after all the time. His excuse was he could never get a good night’s sleep in Vallance Road because of the trains, but as she said, unless you parked on the railway line you couldn’t get nearer to them than her trailer was.
Shame about Tommy. He kept an eye on those boys right up until they went into prison for the big one. With them being Category A the law wouldn’t let Tommy visit them, and on top of that every letter he wrote came straight back from the prison with “Not to be passed on” stamped all over it. So it broke his heart that they might think he’d forgotten about them. As it was, he died without ever seeing them again once that door had slammed behind them.
At his funeral, when this much-bigger-than-usual coffin was sat there with hundreds of mourners filling the church up, the vicar said to Dot, “MrsWalsh, he must really have been somebody,” and she said, “No, just an ordinary man”.
In the papers after the boys were sent away, and in lots of books, it’s been said that a gypsy friend of the Kray twins put a curse on Judge Milford Stevenson, causing him to go blind, then die. I said to her, “What’s all that about?” and she said, “Complete nonsense. I’ve never cursed anyone in my life – but . . . without my help things happen to people who hurt my friends.” Makes you think.
Whatever the rest of the family thought, by the time the twins ended up at the Old Bailey on a charge of “Grievous Bodily Harm”, or GBH, they was already well apprenticed into street fighting and well-over-the-top violence. I knew people and I heard things, and they were already picking up a name as a pair to keep away from.
At work I’d hear fellas saying, “Cor, I seen a fight up Tottenham last night and these two blokes was getting stuck in with chains round their hands – blood everywhere – two against five – dead spit of each other they were”. And I’d think, “I don’t have to ask who they were”. This wasn’t just once, it was regular. Or I might say I was going to this pub or that pub and somebody would say, “Keep your eyes open – them Kray brothers hang about over there”. And I’d say, “Oh right, I’ll keep my head down”. They never knew who I was. No connection you see – I was Joey Lee and that was the end of it, and I never said nothing. I never have.
I wasn’t ashamed to be connected, why should I be, and it wouldn’t change the way things were even if I was. But I’ve always thought the least said the better, so it wasn’t so much they were up in front of a judge, but more why hadn’t they been up much earlier and more often.
What they were both nicked for was no better and no worse than a dozen other fights they’d got themselves involved in. OK, it was bad news that some young kid got badly done over, and I don’t condone it, but they was all at it. These fellas were going out on the town and they’re all carrying coshes and chains and razors. I mean, what reason could any of these boys have for going round tooled up if they weren’t looking for trouble. And when trouble came they was going to use these weapons, so it was no good squealing when it went the other way.
It was just bad news for Reg and Ron that a couple of witnesses came forward and the lad that got badly hurt decided to talk to the law. Usually if you come off worse in these fights, you swallowed it and put it down to experience – but it didn’t happen in this case, so what can you say? Still, on the day, the twins got an acquittal.
There was talk of a girl witness being threatened with having her face slashed if she didn’t retract her statement, but I can’t believe that. A bloke perhaps, but not a girl. I can’t remember ever hearing the slightest rumour that the twins would raise a hand against a woman. They’d been brought up surrounded by them. Whichever way they turned there was their Nanny, their mum, their aunts and young Rita. They loved them all and they respected them, so it’s hard to imagine that they didn’t view all women the same outside the door.
They couldn’t even stand anyone swearing in front of the ladies, and more than one fella got a warning then a punch in the jaw if they didn’t take notice. One bloke called our Rita a Charlie Hunt, if you know what I’m saying – right to her face, and there’s not a woman in the country who likes the sound of that swearword, let alone when she’s called one. She’s never been one for running to the boys with tales, but somehow Reg got to hear about it and the next thing this geezer’s disappeared – never seen around Bethnal Green again. I’m not saying he’s propping a bridge up somewhere, but the lea
st he would’ve got was a stiff talking to, and after that thought it healthier to move somewhere else. So no, I don’t really think there was any intimidation; just that some of the people involved had second thoughts about talking out of turn when they had to carry on living in the East End when it was all over.
A major plus on the boys’ side was that Father Hetherington stood up in court again and gave them a bit of reference. I can only think he was out of touch with how they’d changed from when they were youngsters. And they weren’t bad kids until they started mixing with the wrong crowd and older fellas. This vicar or priest, I can’t remember exactly what he was, was a well-built bloke and handy with the gloves on. He wasn’t one of them preaching down your ear’ole all the time kind, and the boys looked up to him. If he ever wanted help setting up stalls for charity things, or chairs stacking up after meetings, the twins were there without being asked. So when he spoke up for them he was speaking as he found and honestly believed that when they got into trouble, like this time and the time before, it was a bit out of the ordinary and they would soon straighten out. I’m afraid he made a bit of a misjudgement but that wasn’t his fault, and his heart was always in the right place. So whether it was his little speech that done it or as they say lack of evidence, I don’t know, but the twins walked out of the Old Bailey like they was “Lords of the Manor”, and at that age they were nothing near.
When they got their call-up papers we all thought a bit of army training would straighten them out, same as it had with Billy Wiltshire, not that he got into anything like the trouble they did. And what happened? They turned out to be the two worst squaddies that ever put on a uniform. And what for? Because at the end of the day they still did their two years, same as they would’ve done if they’d knuckled down. But in their case they did it very hard.
OK, half the time they were knocking about the East End with all the tearaways when they should’ve been in camp, but being on the run is no life at all, and I should know. You can’t relax and get on with things because you’re looking over your shoulder every five minutes waiting to be collared.
They kept away from Vallance Road because the law had an eye open for them, but every now and then I’d bump into them in Wally’s Café by the bus garage in Hackney, or another little place off the market. It’s no wonder they went wrong when I think of the geezers they were spending their days with in these places. Tommy Smithson, Ron Diamond, Alfie Melvin – all right villains. And there was Rolfie, a friend of old Charlie’s, who they was living with while they were on the trot. He must have taught them a thing or two, same as the others, because they’d all done plenty of time for thieving and violence.
I’ve only ever done prison time overnight if you like and never wanted any more than that, but to listen to these fellas talk you’d think they was swapping stories about holidays they’d been on. “Done five in Durham, seven in Dartmoor, ten on the island. Piece of piss.” I bet they counted every day while they was doing their time and swore that would be the last. But sitting in the café with all the fellas, it’s all behind them and they’ve got to make out they did it standing on their heads. Well, of course the twins soaked all this up; believed every word of it and went along with their way of thinking that working blokes like myself were mugs. I’m not saying the twins looked at me personally and thought I was an idiot for being straight. They were always pleased to see me and I’d have a crack with the blokes they were with.
Away from that lot I knew a lot of fellas that were a bit tasty and well over the side where the law was concerned, but speaking for myself, once I grew up I put all that old nonsense behind me and never had any inclination to get mixed up in all that again. I was married to Ann Curtis by then and all I wanted was to make a good living and enjoy my life with her.
Don’t get me wrong, I was no angel when I was a younger man and I had my fair share of run-ins with the Old Bill because you couldn’t avoid it where I grew up. No, that’s not strictly true. You could avoid it but if you had bottle and a bit of a spark, well, stands to reason you’re going to have a piece of whatever’s going down. But then like most of the fellas I knocked about with you reach a point in your life where you have to make a decision to either pull back or carry on and risk ending up behind the door. And that’s what I did. Knocked all that lark on the head, straightened myself up and moved on. I think about my cousins and a few other blokes who’ve spent half their lives inside and looking back down the years and weighing it all up, who was the mug? You tell me.
Eventually the twins were slung out of the army they’d never really been in, with dishonourable discharge stamped on their papers, and by then they’d learned a lot and was up to putting it into practice.
When Charlie and me was a bit younger we used to go up to the billiard hall in Eric Street, off the Mile End Road; it was a right dump then. When the twins asked me and Charlie to slip up there one night, it turned out to be even worse than I remembered it. There were about a dozen billiard tables in there and when I had a quick look the baize seemed in good shape, but then that green cloth’s always been a bit sacred even in the roughest place. The rest of the Regal, as they called it, was a mess.
What it was, Reg and Ron had the idea of taking over the lease and wanted to know what we thought. Charlie wasn’t too keen on the idea because he could see any dough for rent and what have you was going to come out of his pocket. I said to them the geezer would probably want a tenner a week, and the takings couldn’t be worth more than five. Well, half of that pleased them as they’d already bid the landlord a fiver and he’d taken their arm off. They didn’t want advice of off us two because they’d already made their minds up, and I think they was just letting us know they was a bit sharp when it came to pulling off a deal.
Give them their due, after they got their coats off and got stuck in with a paintbrush, it was a different place altogether, and a matter of weeks after they were coining a nice few quid out of it.
It was never a place you’d want to take your missus, but the boys never intended it would be anyway. What it turned into was a meeting place for all the tearaways the boys had ever come across, and their mates and so on. Well, once you get a mob like that meeting regular they’re going to use it as their office for a bit of business, and with one thing and another the twins made sure they got a back-hander from all the little deals.
Sometimes it was like a supermarket out the back, and offlicence. Booze, fags, electric goods, a bit of tom [jewellery] – you name it you could buy it in the Regal.
I turned down the offer of having a piece in the hall but Charlie got himself involved, and though he was getting a good pension never really liked the way it turned out. Underneath he was a straight bloke really, who would rather have made a living on the right side of the law than the wrong.
Like I’ve said before, the twins had a way about them that sucked you in, and even though he was seven years older it was a case of do it their way or fuck off.
Something else Charlie didn’t like was, when it came to light about the same time, that Ronnie was playing at the other end of the field, if you know what I mean.
He came to me one night and asked me what I made of all these soft-looking youngsters his brother spent all his time with. Well, I’d cottoned on to this ages ago and what with Charlie being an ex-navy man who’d seen what goes on, I thought he would’ve himself. But what could I say? It wasn’t for me to start chucking accusations around so I just said, “I dunno, Charlie. What d’you think it’s all about?” He said, “I’ve got my suspicions. I’m going to ask him outright,” which I thought was taking a bit of a chance if he was wrong, because even then you had to be careful around Ron. Say the wrong word and he’s up in the air. He never worried me but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d upped one of his brothers.
Later Charlie came back and he’s shaking his head. “Can’t believe it. Can’t believe it. He’s told me he’s the other way and I think it’s fucking disgusting.” I’ve go
ne, “Nah, not Ronnie. He’s making out he’s different – same as always.” I wasn’t surprised but I was putting over that it was news to me because he was a bit upset. He said, “Straight up, Joe. He’s admitted it and I’m so wild I want to knock it out of him.” Personally, I didn’t give a monkey’s; it takes all sorts, but Charlie, well he never did accept that this tough geezer of a brother could, as he looked at it, let the family down. Mind you, there’s worse things to worry about than being the other way, as he would find out in years to come.
8. The Firm
Joe Lee
When you consider the clientele of the billiard hall, there was very little trouble. If there were any little flare-ups, whoever kicked it off got one of Reg’s right-handers, and if they came out of that with a jaw in one piece they could count their blessings. With the place belonging to the twins, if there was any sign of bother, all eyes would swivel round to that pair to see what they’d do. After a while this mob would look to them to weigh up their reaction to whatever was going down. So they became leaders if you like.
I think that was when they really started to collect a “firm” around them. I don’t think it was ever their intention to set up a gang like the Watney Streeters or the Hoxton Mob; it was other people who saw they could handle themselves and thought, “Hang on, I’m better off behind these Kray boys than not, so I’ll stick a bit close”.
Though the night a mob tied up with Bernie Silvers and Frank Mifsud turned up, the twins were on their own and they came out on top without any help. This was when Silver and Mifsud were taking pensions out of the East End clubs and some years before they took over the West End. I wouldn’t have thought these two cousins of mine had as much bottle as they did. Remember I first saw them when they looked like a couple of little monkeys at twenty minutes old, so in a way I never really saw them with the same eyes as strangers did.