The Incredible Rise of a Gorbals Gangster Page 6

  One father who remonstrated with Bobby that his daughter had “nothing tae do wi’ the bullying” was beat up so badly he was off work for a month. A gang of youths set about him with clubs as he left a pub. No-one knew who the culprits were but everyone surmised it was Bobby’s neds and the message was clear – a heavy price would be paid if anyone messed with his daughter.

  Elizabeth was less of a problem, her plain looks and a lower intelligence than Cathy meant that she merged in more easily with the other, mostly plain looking girls.

  Cathy was in a different league and her mother always imagined she would one day be a star, sure she had the beauty for it. She took up dancing lessons. Her parents thought this would be the ideal way for her to enter the limelight.

  But during one frenetic dance session, a robust tango, she fell and broke her leg. The leg had healed but she no longer had the flexibility to become a professional dancer. At the age of 16 she got a got a job as a machinist at the Twomax garment factory in the Gorbals. If you stood outside there in the morning, before the shift started, you could see the prettiest women in Glasgow go in.

  Indeed, some would argue that these young women were among the most beautiful women in Scotland. Cathy was certainly one of them.

  One day she came out of work, after her shift, with two pals, and saw a handsome looking guy walking towards her in Rutherglen Road, near the Rose Garden, a little park nearby.

  The handsome, gallus looking fellow, gave them a bright smile and nodded. “Awright girls?” Cathy said to one of her pals, “Who is that guy?” One of them giggled,” Oh that’s Johnny McGrath the leader of the Cumbie gang. He’s a handsome bastard, but a wild fella as well. All the lassies fancy him, and he knows it.”

  “Is he going out with anybody?” Cathy asked. “Nah,” her pal replied, “He’s a bit of a man about town, don’t think he has ever had a steady girlfriend.” Cathy went home and dreamed that one day she would be his girlfriend and even his wife. From then on, she made it a point to bump into Johnny “accidently on purpose” when he was around. As a result, the two began to build up a regular repartee with lots of banter.

  Cathy knew he fancied her and perhaps even loved her, but Johnny was like a poker player, you never knew what hand he was holding.

  Meanwhile her father’s illicit business was booming. The money lending was very lucrative as were the card schools he ran in the illegal drinking dens, shebeens, he had in some tenements. He sold wine, whisky and beer after the pubs shut. He also had another sideline as a street bookie.

  Cathy McGee and her family lived in a nice flat in Queen Elizabeth Square, in one of the modern high rises that had been built in the middle of the 1960s. Bobby would sit in the kitchen of his flat counting out bundles of money. He had built up a nice nest egg over the years and his ambition was to buy a bungalow in a leafy area like Newton Mearns, and eventually get his family out of the Gorbals.

  With the money building up, it was his plan to go straight, perhaps become a legitimate bookie or launch his own security company. Sure, he had enough enforcers to man such operations. But Bobby had made a big mistake and broke a cardinal rule for any Gorbals gangster. He looked and acted too affluent, with his big flashy car and equally flashy suits.

  As he passed by in his Zephyr waving to some people on the street corners he made some of them jealous. To them he was flaunting his wealth and was an accident waiting to happen. But of course they would never say anything to his face, Bobby knew they gossiped about him and his wealth but just thought, “Fuck them, what can they do? My business is my business and they can take a running jump.”

  The problem was the police were also watching him and were working on plan to nail their man. His money lending business was going at full throttle. And since he had become a street bookie, he raked in even more money. The police knew he must have a weak point. It eventually came in the form of his shebeen business.

  His shebeen was raided and a guy who owed Bobby £30 grassed him up and spilled the beans on his various illegal activities. Police had enough evidence to arrest him and Bobby was taken to the Sheriff Court and sentenced to three months in jail for running a drinking den.

  The imprisonment hit takings on all sides of the business. While in Barlinnie prison he worked out a battle plan to take away his family from the Gorbals forever. “Another two years and then I’ll pack it in. Move to Newton Mearns live in ma bungalow and start legit,” he thought.

  But when he came out almost three months later, he found that his power had faded. His enforcers had switched their allegiance to “Big Arthur” who was said to be the Godfather of Glasgow. The shebeen and card schools had been closed down and when he tried to resurrect his street bookie and money lending ventures, he found that Arthur had taken over them as well. When the cat’s away the mice will play.

  The Gorbals people could also detect weakness, they could smell it a mile off and he was no longer being treated with the respect he once had. Punters stopped paying their debts. With little or no money coming in, his savings were dwindling but he consoled himself at least he had his family behind him. His wife Betty, daughters Cathy and Elizabeth would stand by him no matter what.

  He had to get back in the game again and regain control. He had only one option, to go to Arthur’s place on the other side of Glasgow, Provanmill, and work something out. An agreement that would suit both of them. But the meeting could go either way.

  He did not reveal his plan to anyone, not even his family. He met Cathy outside of the Twomax factory and said, “Got a little bit of business on. Look, there’s a few grand hidden behind the wardrobe in my bedroom.”

  Cathy was puzzled and replied, “Da, why are you telling me this?”

  Bobby was vague, “Well just in case, you know. Things can be unpredictable.”

  Cathy had a bemused look on her face as her father climbed into his white Zephyr and sped off in the direction of Arthur on the other side of the city.

  It was a gamble he had to take, but was it a gamble that would cost his life?

  Chapter 9

  TRIAL

  Johnny walked from the Gorbals over the Albert Bridge to the High Court in the Saltmarket. It was a bitterly cold day and he did not feel at all well. He looked at the Clyde, people come and go with their pathetic little lives but the Clyde kept flowing. He thought of the line, “I’m tired of living, but scared of dying, but that old man river just keeps on moving along.” How short life was compared to the River Clyde! When would people realise that their lives were short and basically meaningless, an individual life was like a single grain of sand on the beach. He also thought of the boys in the High Court, why did they have to get themselves into situations like this? Then he thought of his familiar mantra – drama brings meaning to life.

  He grinned at the seagulls who swooped over his head who seemed to be grinning as well. He had not slept well that night, terrible dreams or rather nightmares. One involved him being chased by giant metallic machines. He had woken up in a sweat shouting, “Help me, the machines are gonnae kill me!” His mother came into the room in the middle of the night to see what the commotion was all about.

  She stroked Johnny’s head and said, “Don’t worry son, it’s only a dream, there are nae machines trying tae kill you.” He had fallen back asleep and then floated into another one where he and Cathy were dancing on a cloud but in the background, he could see McCoy leering at them.

  As he left the Albert Bridge, he noticed a crowd assembled outside the High Court. The usual Gorbals mob. Housewives nattering, old men in bunnets, and youth gang members looking as gallus as fuck.

  He put on his bravest face and walked towards them. Some of the crowd turned their heads and he heard one of them say, “There he is, Johnny boy, ah told you he’d turn up.” He walked over to the crowd and got submerged into the conversation. A woman, who he recognised as Alex’s mother, said, “What dae ye think Johnny, do ye think they’ve got a chance of getting away wi’ it?” />
  He shrugged his shoulders, “Depends on the evidence and the witnesses. We’ll see what happens.” On the edge of the crowd he saw McCoy’s father but he did not acknowledge him. He thought of a Chinese proverb he had heard, “The father of an enemy should be treated the same as the enemy.”

  Johnny had a far superior intellect than many of them there who he perceived as no more than a bunch of shabby vermin. Lowly educated slum people living in poverty. He looked across the road and saw “respectable people” taking their dogs into the Glasgow Green. If only he could become one of them instead of being involved in this tragic farce.

  The doors of the High Court were opened and the crowd headed towards the public gallery. As he walked upstairs Johnny noticed the legal teams standing about, most in pin-striped suits, some with wigs on and some not, advocates and lawyers. They looked different from the Gorbals rabble he was with. The lawyers had rosy cheeks, well fed men who lived in big fancy houses, ate in the best restaurants drinking the finest wines.

  But this is how they made their money, dealing with impoverished rabble who lived in decaying tenements on bread and margarine. And when they got into trouble, legal aid was always there to provide a wig to defend them

  Before he went into the public gallery he glanced again back downstairs. He saw several policemen walking towards the lawyers. It was then he noticed they were escorting someone. With the policemen were two people, an old man and a grey haired lady. His heart sank, it was the two main prosecution witnesses Edward Driscoll and Agatha McFadden. Unlike the self-confident and pompous lawyers, they both looked nervous and kept looking over their shoulders.

  Johnny had been sure that the brick through the window for Driscoll and the woman being set about by mad Bella would have done the trick. But there was no accounting for human nature. The public gallery was packed and one woman sitting next to Johnny looked excited said, “This is just like being at the pictures, all the goodies and baddies and all free.”

  The accused were led into the dock, they all looked like they had put on weight, that’s prison food for you. Three square meals a day and a cup of cocoa at night before bed. In many ways people who went to jail were better fed than when they lived in the Gorbals, the Barlinnie diet! You could go in looking like an athlete and come out looking like a fat bastard.

  As they sat down, Alex and Peter gave short waves to the public gallery as if they were showbiz stars ready for a performance. Chris looked nervous and had a sneezing fit for a few minutes.

  Brian looked more insane than ever, he glanced around the courtroom briefly and Johnny thought, “The eyes of a psychopath.”

  McCoy was impassive, he had had his hair shaved in prison and looked even uglier than Johnny had previously imagined. McGlinchey was dressed in a pin striped suit and looked like an accountant.

  For the first hour or so it was pretty boring. The lawyers droned on with their legal submissions. Johnny thought that it was almost as boring as the science classes he had been forced to attend at his secondary school, St Bonaventures.

  The boredom evaporated when the submissions geared up a notch. The prosecutor was a large fat man, a QC, in a wig. He had the poshest Scottish accent Johnny had ever heard. He began to sweat profusely as he talked, beads of perspiration dripping from his head. His nose looked like a red lightbulb. Johnny thought, a right bevvy merchant, probably been whacking intae the expensive posh wines last night.”

  The fat QC began his speech, “It is the prosecution’s case that these men before you carried out a violent robbery culminating in the murder of Ivan Solomon, at the Gorbals Cross area of Glasgow. We will show that this was a premeditated robbery and murder, involving a gun which had been acquired with sole intention of carrying out this heinous crime. Indeed, a crime that has shocked the Scottish nation to it’s core.”

  The speech went on and on and when Johnny looked down at the dock, he could see Peter and Alex yawning, as if they were back at the science lesson in school. Chris had stopped sneezing but had now taken to shaking his head erratically. Brian looked like a volcano ready to erupt. McCoy just sat there like a dummy, showing no connection to the other guys. Sam looked placid as if he had seen it all before.

  Next came the speech from a defence counsel representing Chris. He was a young sharp guy in his early 30s, who was very quick and had a powerful, dramatic Glaswegian voice. He had probably missed his real vacation in life and would have made an excellent soap opera actor.

  He addressed the court, “It is our case that my client has been unjustly arrested for these offences. He is a man of very good character and was nowhere near Gorbals Cross when the robbery and murder took place.”

  Johnny was greatly impressed by the young lawyer. He reminded him of the sharp suited guy from the telly, Perry Mason. He may have been a lot younger than the fat QC and a lot less experienced but his legal talent shone through. There was light at the end of the tunnel after all! The other boys had different lawyers, more or less based on the same defence. The robbery was nothing to do with them and they had been unjustly arrested.

  After the defence submissions had been completed, Brian jumped up from the dock and shouted, “Take these fucking handcuffs off me – they’re hurting ma wrists.” The court ushers and several policemen rushed to the dock. Brian promptly head butted an usher and bit a policeman on the nose.

  “Order! Order! Order!” the judge shouted, “Take that man back to the cells and lock him up!” Brian struggled with several policemen before being led away to the cells downstairs

  The case was abruptly adjourned until the next day. One of the women in the gallery said to him, “What a palaver! Mind you the boy has a good point, tight handcuffs. He’s getting treated worse than an animal.”

  Johnny agreed, “Too right, ye cannae blame Brian. Mind you when he gets riled, he can be like a wild animal.” He went outside and it was a beautiful day. He breathed in the fresh air and there was a nice fragrance. The grass in the Glasgow Green had just been mown.

  He looked over the road to the park and saw something more beautiful. It was Cathy standing there waiting for the court to come out. He walked across the road. She grabbed him tightly and kissed him softy on the cheek. Johnny was taken aback by this show of emotion.

  “What’s the matter Cathy?” he asked.

  She began to cry, “It’s ma father,”

  “What about him?” Johnny said.

  “He’s gone missing, disappeared into thin air,” Cathy sobbed.

  The two of them began to walk, mostly in silence, through the Glasgow Green and because it had turned out to be a fine day there were people rowing on the river. It looked a bit incongruous. Something you might imagine happening in Oxford rather than the Gorbals. They soaked in the atmosphere and in the background was Templeton’s old carpet factory building. A teacher at school had told Johnny that is a replica of the Doge’s Palace in Venice. Johnny and his pal had laughed at the very thought of someone coming up with such an idea. To put a copy of such a famous building, not far from the centre of the Gorbals, seemed a ludicrous situation.

  The silence was broken, “So where do ye think he is?” Johnny asked. Cathy frowned, “We don’t have a clue, but he did say to ma mother that the taxman was after him for 25 grand and the polis were investigating him further.”

  Johnny said, “How come? The dough he was making from the money lending, shebeen and card schools, was unofficial money.”

  Cathy replied, “That’s the point, he had no official income to explain away running a big flashy car, having expensive suits, wi’ a lifestyle tae match.”

  Johnny said, “Ah know what you mean but he should have signed on the dole and claimed other benefits tae cover his arse.”

  Cathy looked indignant gave out a weak laugh, “Dole? My father widnae have been seen dead signing on in a dole queue. He is too proud a guy for that. He was about to start up a legit business to explain his income away but he was too slow as far as the taxman and the po
lis were concerned.”

  They decided to go into the People’s Palace museum to kill some time. They looked at the reconstruction of an old tenement flat with an old woman, a wax dummy sitting in front of the hearth. It summed up the image of Glasgow’s slums and poverty in the old days. Cathy pointed to the female wax figure. “Would you look at her Johnny! How could people live like that in the old days?”

  Johnny smirked, “In the old days! Ah could take you to a wee woman in Thistle Street who lives in worse conditions than that now.” Cathy gave a brief giggle and a few minutes later made their way across the Glasgow Green over the small suspension bridge that led them back into the Gorbals.

  “So, you’ve got no idea where your father is, none at all?” he said.

  Cathy thought for a moment and said, “Well he did get drunk a few weeks ago he said that because the taxman was after him for a right few grand, he might have to disappear to Ireland. But we just thought it was the drink talking. He always talked rubbish when he was drunk.”

  “Ireland? Why Ireland? Has he got connections there?” Johnny asked.

  Cathy replied, “Aye he’s got a cousin in Dublin but he’s no’ seen him for donkey’s years, so ah don’t think he’d head there.”

  “One o’ the boys tried to scram there recently but he was arrested on the ferry before it sailed. Your father’s not a wanted man, is he?” he asked Cathy.

  “Nah he is too fly for that but the night he was drunk he said that while he was in jail his businesses had been taken over by some Glasgow gangster called Big Arthur.” she said.

  Johnny felt alarm bells ringing in his head. It would have been absolute folly to mess with Big Arthur. He just hoped Bobby had made it in one piece to Ireland. They got to where Cathy lived in Queen Elizabeth Square. She looked at him with her big blue eyes. She knew she could play Johnny like a violin.