Miracle On The Clyde (Glasgow Crime)

by A D Evans

  His mind again started to wander over the previous nights events. He had that terrible guilty feeling that he knew from previous experience would be with him all day.

  ‘Fuck hangovers’ he murmured to the empty room as he came back to the present and got ready to go about that day’s business.

  He looked for his mobile just as its ring tone sounded. After he had spoken on the phone for a few seconds he redialled and phoned one of the gang to pick up Willie in Drumchapel and then to come for him.

  Steff the gang member assured him he would be there within the hour, and he sat back to finish the remainder of his coffee pot. As he drained his cup, again the fiasco of that long gone St. Patricks night came back to haunt him. The strangest thing about the fight in the pub was that nobody was killed.

  The three head cases that had started the strammash were all seriously hurt, as were Lucy’s father and brothers. Within a few months, they were all on their way to recovery.

  There was obviously a police investigation into the trouble, but it came to nothing. The good people of the Possil area had terrible memories and acute blindness when it came to helping the police with their enquiries. They liked to sort out any problems in their own way.

  Life went on with the Maryhill gangster and he soon forgot about his experience with the lovely Lucy.

  FOUR

  The two men left the house by the back exit. This took them into a courtyard surrounded by a six feet trestle fence. The duo crouched as low as they could, and peeked through a small gap in the fencing. Good! No sign of any plain clothes coppers. They both vaulted over the fence with the aid of a conveniently placed garden seat. The route they had chosen allowed them to leave the vicinity of the house unobserved by any spying eyes. Paul and Big Willie headed for Anniesland cross. Steff sat in the car waiting for his boss. Two minutes later, they were sitting back and heading for Larry's pub.

  They entered the bar via the lounge door. The lighting was rather sedate, orange tinged lamp shades emanating their glow in small cones sporadically spaced around the room. The two men approached the bar ordered a drink and tipped a wink to Larry, the manager. The two men surveyed the room unobtrusively. There were various groups of men standing and sitting. Some of the groups were playing dominoes or cards. Over in the far right hand corner was a doorway, which by the crisp clashing noise emitting from the balls was obviously the poolroom. Figures could be seen moving back and forward taking their individual shots. There was also the sound of laughter. This environment was definitely only meant for the male of the species.

  When they had been given their change, Larry whispered to them that the men they sought were playing pool.

  Willie sauntered over to the pool table, and placed his pint tumbler on one of the small wooden tables that were spaced around the pool table. He went over and marked the initials F.U. on the chalkboard that was used to decide the order of play. He sat down with his back against the wall and about midway up the room facing the pool table. He pulled out a rolled up copy of the Daily Record from his pocket, and appeared to be deeply engrossed in the sports page.

  The poolroom was not very large, perhaps sixteen feet by about twenty-five feet. The pool table with its dull green baize was approximately in the centre. Suspended above the tatty looking table was a large shrouded light, which illuminated the playing surface

  Paul also headed for the pool table, and sat directly across from his big friend.

  He went into his pocket, took out a ready rolled reefer, and placed it in his mouth. He leaned towards one of the men and asked for a light.

  The man he had asked was about twenty-five to thirty years off age, and was approximately five foot eight. Slim built, a skinhead, his face told the story of his life. He was pockmarked from teenage acne, and the pallor off his skin was that of a long time junkie. He reached over to the table for a lighter and gave him a light. He thanked him and sat back, smoking his joint.

  It became Willies turn to play; he was to play against the pockmarked man. One of the other men approached Paul and asked him if he wanted to score some hash. He was in the same age group as the first guy. The man was also very slim and about six feet tall. He had a large scar running from the corner of his mouth to just below his left ear. His features were sharp, and he reminded him of a ferret. The third man seemed to be in some sort of trance as he sat in the corner staring into space. He was a bit older and had the look of a long time drug abuser. He could not get a proper look at him because of the pool table and the other men moving about. None of the men would have won any fashion or beauty contests.

  He looked at the tall man who had spoken to him, and said to him,

  ‘Are you not taking a bit of a chance selling gear in one of Lynch’s pubs big yin?’

  ‘Naw’ said the man. ‘He's never here so how the fuck will he know about it?’

  ‘What if I tell him?’

  ‘Well I would just have to fuckin chib you’

  The pocked faced man was leaning over the table to take a shot when big Willie crashed a pool cue over his head. He collapsed in a heap on the floor. The next swing of the cue hit the stargazer, who slowly sank sideways on the couch.

  The tall man found himself staring at the business end off a twelve-inch steak knife, known locally as ‘a steaky’.

  ‘What the fucks the score ma’ man?’ he screamed.

  Paul introduced himself.

  The man started visibly shaking and looked to be on the verge of tears.

  ‘L...L... Listen ma man I’m Ss... Sorry, if you let me go ah swear ah will never do it ag gggain...g...ain. Please am’ sorry but I’ve got a habit to feed .You know the s...s...core ma man’

  ‘Aye dickhead, ah know the score yah fuckin clown. You thought you could take advantage of the situation in the pub here, because I’ve no been in for a wee while’

  The man began pleading again,

  ‘P...Please ma’ man let it go, and you'll never see me again.’

  ‘Aye yer right I could arrange for you never to be seen again’.

  The knife was drawn straight across the already scared features. The horrific wound stretched from his left ear across the nose to the tip off his right ear.

  He spoke quietly and told the bleeding man to leave the pub, and that if he should ever see him anywhere again he would separate his head from his body.

  His two pals were also thrown out with a little parting gift from his steak knife.

  ‘Two large whisky's Larry. I’ve still got a drooth from last night,’ he shouted

  ‘Fancy a game of pool noo boss? That last cunt I was playing was a bloody bad looser,’ Laughed Willie.

  ‘Aye it will be his fuckin head he'll lose if I ever see the cunt again’.

  The two men finished their drinking session and he told Willie to get a taxi home, as he had somewhere to go on his own.

  ‘O.K. Give her one for me’ he joked.

  When Willie had departed, he headed for the top end of Maryhill to do his favourite duty off the week.

  FIVE

  He had decided earlier in the day that he would take this opportunity to visit his grandparents. Their home was situated at the top end of Maryhill Road, in Caldercuilt Road. He had purchased the house for them about six years previously and they loved it. There were no stairs to climb and it was just as well because they were both over eighty years of age. They were both still in good health, but getting a little slower as the years passed. His grandfather was still a good-looking man. He had a mane of silver hair and still walked in a sprightly manner defying his age. His grandmother was a little stooped now, but still managed to get about the local shops in Maryhill. She was a well-known figure in the area and everyone thought the world of her.

  He loved going to visit them and always brought them their favourite treat, which was chocolate ice- cream.

  They always welcomed him with kisses and cuddles. This was part of the reason he always visited them alone. Even big Willie was not allowed
to see this side to his boss’s nature.

  His grandparents thought he was a great man and did not ask how he earned his money or made a living. Of course, they had heard the stories about their beloved grandson, but the proud Grandparents chose to ignore them. They liked to believe that he was a successful businessperson, which of course to be honest he was. Nobody could have run his empire without some kind of business acumen for organisation and financial matters.

  The old couple had come over from Italy in 1936 when Louie was eighteen and Marina 17. They were known then by the name of Lasardi.

  His grandfather was a very astute man and had realised that war in Europe was inevitable. Therefore, decided to change the family name to Lynch.

  When Paul enquired several years, previously as to why they had picked an Irish name his grandfather had explained that the only person he knew in Scotland at that time was a workmate called Lynch. Louie knew how to spell the name and so that is what he had chosen.

  Louie opened a barber's in Maryhill Road and very quickly became fluent in the Glasgow version of the Queens English thanks to the large amount of customers who came through his shop door.

  His shop was situated facing the old Maryhill train station which is now a shopping centre and adjacent to Maryhill barracks when it of course was still an army establishment. He and his family had a long running feud with another Italian family called the Canntannis, and unbelievably it stemmed from as far back as Louie's own great-grandfather. Neither of the families could remember what had caused the feud, but it was still as eagerly pursued as at its very commencement

  As the Second World War became a reality, Louie worked hard at losing his natural accent and developing a Glaswegian one. Being a natural mimic, he was excellent at the Glasgow slang. It would have taken a very aware person to spot any slips in his speech.

  Marina was not so gifted at covering her accent. Her husband came up with the idea that she would tell her work-mates in the laundry that she came from the small British colony of Malta. The island is in very close proximity to their homeland of Italy. She was quite certain that she would get away with the deception. The ten or so women that she worked with were not very well educated. In fact, most of them had never heard of the island of Malta.

  As war was declared, there were many bitter people in Glasgow and because of Italy's involvement many shop, windows were smashed and Italian families were forced from their homes.

  When his old enemy’s fish and chip shop and his house were under attack, Louie was there with the mob hurling bricks and abuse like any of the rest of the unruly Glasgow mob.

  Many Italians were interred for the duration of the war, and his counterpart in the Sicilian feud, were among those taken away. To this day, he could not understand why he never had a visit from immigration officials. He put it down to the fact that, when he changed the family name. The family had somehow become lost in the system.

  The war years were quite hard for the young couple, and he was constantly waiting for either his call up papers, or a visit from immigration. Neither of these fears materialised. He was asked on several occasions why he was not in uniform, and his answer was always that he had an infection of the lung when he was younger. It had left scarring which prevented him from joining the armed forces, and his inquisitors readily believed this excuse. He took on a lot of work in the local community, and was well liked by the many people he helped. The local priest told him that he was a pillar of society, and this made him feel good about himself.

  The couple prospered and over the next few years produced three children, two girls during the war years, and a boy just after.

  They called them very Scottish names .The oldest girl was called Mary, and the younger was Jean. Their son was named after one of Louie’s friends. His grand title was, Patrick, Paul, Joseph, lynch.

  In the years following the war, things were quite tough in the mean streets of Glasgow's north side. However, his family never went hungry. He was still earning quite a good living at his business. He was able to supply the little luxuries of life through his friends that dabbled in the black-market.

  The children grew up well and enjoyed their life. They played in the backcourts of the grim tenement buildings that were so prevalent in that period of Glasgow's dark and distant past.

  There were all the usual games to be played kick the can, one-man hunt, kdrf, and peever, jump the dike and so many more, and every area would build a gang hut during the summer holidays. In those far off times the long sunny days seemed to last an eternity. Halloween then quickly followed by Guy Fox night were also special nights of the year for the children.

  The children would all chip in any pennies, or half pennies they could acquire. They would purchase what in Glasgow was called a ‘Bottle of ginger’ It was any kind of soft drink, which came in a glass bottle. Various kinds of sweets, whoppers, sherbet fountains, McCowans dainties and a host of other long forgotten children's delicacies.

  Then it was of to the Kelvin Park to play on the swings, or kick a ball about. The park was a great favourite with the children but it was not without its dangers. The rope swings hanging from tall branches would sometimes break and some youngster would get a sore one or there was the possibility of drowning when climbing the slippery embankment of the sometimes-fast flowing river. There was another terror associated with the park and that came in the shape of the dreaded ‘Annies’. The tale of the Annies was passed by word of mouth among the various groups of children who used the park. Nobody knows where the story originated from but many a small Maryhill boy ran home with pissed trousers or even worse shit himself because he had almost been a victim of the Annies. Everybody had a tale to tell about the time the Annie’s had nearly caught them. The part of the park that the children played in was just off Garrioch road and across the river at this point was just an uncultivated wilderness. This was where the Annies lived, and on dark evenings they would cross the river looking for any unsuspecting weans to eat. As twilight came down on the park there was someone always spotted them trying to cross the river and this would start a mad rush for the gate into the street. I can tell you if you were at the back-end of the scramble, you could almost feel their grubby slimy hands on the back of your arm or leg. By god, you fuckin moved then.

  Years later, a friend was in the pub and relating this story. He said that he and his wife were walking down by the Kelvin when he noticed that the old bit of the park was opened up and he decided to walk through it. He had never been in that part of the park before as it had been re-claimed in recent years. As he entered the gates, the hairs on his neck were rising and he felt fear. He could not believe it, and all through the walk, he was glancing behind him watching for any movement in the bushes. JUST IN CASE!

  On very special occasions, the group could accrue enough money then they would take a trip to the boating pond in great western road. This was a great adventure and was enjoyed immensely by the little crowd from Maryhill.

  The old buildings, which made up the Lynch's part of Maryhill also, had many shops at the front of them. Within their immediate area were, Glens the bakers, Mrs Percy’s which eventually became Milne’s paper shop, Louis barber shop, Jimmy McGinns which became De Meo’s cafe, the off licence (who only took their own stamped bottles back. The children got round this problem by making a stamp with their old faithful John Brown printing outfit), Mrs Hills became Mrs Burns sweetshop, Sweeny the tailor, the Soldiers home which in later years became the T.U.C. club then Frampton’s and plenty others.

  The children slowly reached adulthood with all its pitfalls and mysteries but there was a very sad time in their lives when Mary the oldest daughter was drowned on a trip to a friend’s house near Rutherglen. The day had been a scorcher. Mary and her friend Isa, decided to take a walk down to the banks off the Clyde. The two girls bought some sweets, ice cream and a couple of bottles of ginger. They wanted to relax in the summer sunshine, lie on the grass, and watch the boys rowing on the river. Eve
rything went well until just before they had decided to head for home. A few boys passed them and started to chat with them. They were all enjoying the harmless banter when suddenly Mary dropped her new hair clasp. She jumped to get it as the clasp rolled towards the fast flowing river. According to all the statements given to the police, she seemed to stumble and fall into the river. Three of the boys dived in to the water in a brave but vain attempt to rescue her. She disappeared so quickly there was nothing they could do. The river rescue people were informed, but even they could not find her body.

  It turned out that her body must have become entangled in something below the surface. It was not found for over a year, and having to wait all that time to bury their daughter’s body took its toll, and Marina suffered a nervous breakdown. As you can imagine this was devastating for the family but they all pulled together and in fact came through it closer than ever.

  Jean was married at eighteen to a nice person from a well to do family. They were coal merchants and scrap dealers, and stayed in a large villa at the top of Fergus Drive, in the rather affluent Kelvinside. She had met him at a local dance, and one day announced to the family that she was marrying Tom. As he was a member of the Church of Scotland and not Catholic, she also informed them that she would be changing to his religion. There was a bit of opposition from Marina and Louie, but after getting to know him, they accepted that as long as Jean was happy then they would give them their blessing to the marriage.

  The wedding went really well. Tom’s relations did not drink alcohol, and so it was a very enjoyable and friendly wedding reception in the co-op restaurant. Unlike many Glasgow weddings which after too much drinking there would be the usual nice wee fight just to round of the evening in the traditional manner of the west of Scotland macho male.

  The couple were very happy for their daughter and wondered how long it would be before their baby son would leave the nest.