Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Introduction
1 – October 1933: Twin Terror – The Birth of the Kray Twins
2 – Summer 1939-49: Running Away from Trouble
3 – December 1951: Fighting the Good Fight
4 – March 1952: Privates on Parade
5 – Summer 1954: Doing the Business
6 – April 1955: Organised Crime
7 – November 1956: Prison
8 – Spring/Summer 1958: Taking over the Asylum
9 – October 1960: Clubbing
10 – July 1964: The Case of the Brighton Peer
11 – Summer of 1964: Safari
12 – April 1965: Getting Hitched
13 – Summer/Autumn 1965: Bonds
14 – March 1966: Button Man
15 – Spring 1966: The George Raft Story
16 – Autumn 1966: Sinatra
17 – December 1966: The ‘Mad Axeman’
18 – June 1967: Suicide
19 – Summer 1967: Stars
20 – October 1967: ‘Jack the Hat’
21 – 1967–68: The Killing Fields
22 – April 1968: NYC
23 – April 1968: The Net
24 – May 1968: Gotcha!
25 – January 1969: The Trial
26 – March 1969: The Sentence
27 – 1969-81: Life
28 – August 1982: The Last Farewell
29 – December 1985: Another Way of Life
30 – 1988-94: Double Exposure
31 – March 1995: Death of the Don
32 – June 1997: The Dope
33 – July 1997: Married to the Mob
34 – April 2000: Death of a Clown
35 – August–October 2000: Freed – to Die !
Epilogue
Dedication
The Krays loved their Mum – so it would appear fitting to dedicate this book to my mother who, like Violet Kray, had the great satisfaction and undoubted immense irritation of raising twins.
Being a twin is a great privilege, but it is also a responsibility. I was often blamed for my brother’s misdemeanours – as he was for mine. In the end, though, it worked out even – although I am sure that my brother Rod would dispute that vehemently over a drink or two.
Violet took great pride in her twins, and her eldest son too – but Charlie Kray didn’t get many of the advantages, only the responsibilities. And could Charlie or his mum tell the twins apart?
Who is who – and who did what? Was it you, or you – or both of you? I can hear Violet calling to her twins, ‘Come here Ronnie/Reggie!’ I am sure all twins in the world can identify with that. And I am equally sure that all mothers of twins, no matter where they may be, understand the importance of being a twin.
So my mother is special, just as Violet called her twins ‘special’. In fact the whole twin relationship is something that needs further explanation and analysis and I have already attempted this in my book The Kray Files, also published by Mainstream Publishing. This biography, however, has not been designed to explain, but to present the facts and only the facts.
This one’s for you, Mum!
Dedicated to Mrs Rosetta Ellen Fry.
Acknowledgements
To everyone who has helped me to become a writer, especially Bill Campbell of Mainstream Publishing who doesn’t mind paying for the privilege of publishing a book about the notorious Kray brothers.
For those of you who think that a writer should not be paid for writing stories about people such as the Krays, I acknowledge a debt of gratitude. After all, I am a writer and writing is what I do. Without the constant hassle and all the dubious arguments that I have had to face through the years, I would most likely not have been able to thoroughly enjoy writing about gangsters. It is now, however, something that I consider to be a part of my life – and therefore worthy of the writing. I ask simply ‘Why not?’ and I have never had a satisfactory reply. But all that bickering has helped to focus my mind on the process of organising and administrating the writing process – and the result is The Krays – The Final Countdown.
I have been privileged to work with many people throughout the years – some of them major, some minor. But life itself is a learning curve and when embarking on a career we never really know where it may lead. I started out writing songs and acting in movies, then I worked in the oil business and the record business – and now I write books and film scripts. My mentor through recent years has been an American, Charles Rosenblatt, a man of many talents. Thanks to him I undertook a university degree at the age of 50 and his encouragement has helped me with my projects – both films and books – time and time again. Without Charles as my guide during the writing experience I seriously doubt whether I would have made it. My thanks also go to his lovely wife, Denise.
And I would like to extend a personal and public thank you to the Krays – without whom, obviously, this book would not exist. Ron and Reg Kray were helpful, as always, by staying in the news even up to their deaths, and I will always fondly remember hearing Ron tell his outrageous stories when I visited him in Broadmoor. But the sad way in which Charlie Kray died will stay with me forever. He was not a bad man, but he had a couple of brothers who terrorised the East End of London and who killed for a living.
Call it selective or false memory if you will – but I will always remember Charlie Kray as a great womaniser, a fun person to be with, as the true ‘Del-boy’ of real life.
Introduction
The East End of London has seen some bloody times – from the chaos caused by that caped crusader Jack the Ripper, to the havoc wreaked throughout Bethnal Green and the Mile End Road by those kings of crime, the Krays. Their doings and killings were only matched back then by the blitzkrieg of the Second World War, but these murderers of London did their dirty deeds in peace time, where ordinary people were trying to make a living, trying to stay out of trouble, trying to get ahead in life. Death, though, has always stalked the shady streets of the East End.
I first met Charlie Kray in 1985 in a pub just off the Mile End Road. He was a charmer, a real diamond geezer and didn’t the ladies know it. Always the centre of attention, Charlie Kray was constantly on the look-out for a ‘nice little earner’, as he would call it. He liked to ‘put people together’. (Ultimately he would put a couple of low-life drug-dealers together with an undercover cop – and there went the neighbourhood!)
He was introduced to me as a man with connections within the music industry. And since my business was to buy and sell records and CDs, we had a chat. During the conversation he mentioned that he had a couple of brothers who were twins, but when I asked about them his whole manner and tone changed.
‘They’re in jail – but they should be out soon,’ he told me straight. His demeanour had changed totally – he looked embarrassed as he tried to mingle with the other guests. A friend took me aside and explained the situation.
‘His brothers are the notorious Kray twins – Ron and Reg Kray’ he told me in a whisper. But it didn’t mean anything to me – I had lived abroad for some 20 years and the name Kray hadn’t been on the top of any editor’s ‘most wanted’ list in Denmark.
Again I approached Charlie and we began to talk.
‘So your brothers are in jail?’ I said casually.
He gave me a quick look-over and decided that I was no threat; neither cop nor crook. Gradually he opened up and began to talk – all about the old days and how they had run something called the Firm. This was all very interesting, since I had never met a gangster before. Sure, I had met some dodgy dealers in my time, crooks who called themselves businessmen. But gangsters – that was something completely different. Over the years to come I would be proud to call Charlie Kray my friend.
By the time he died, Charlie had tried it all – from selling knick-knacks in an East End market, to trying to put together a consortium to clean up the sands of Kuwait after the Gulf War. He even tried to import fruit and veg. from Nigeria – but even that scheme went rotten. His only way out was to deal in drugs. But Charlie was never interested in supplying cocaine – he only wanted the money. Still, he did the deal, and in the end he died in jail.
It was Charlie who introduced me to his brothers – the Kray Twins. I was naturally keen to meet them, since I too am a twin – and twins who terrorised London were a must on my ‘must-see’ list. Ron and Reg Kray were not a disappointment.
I first met Ron Kray one sunny summer’s day in 1988. I had arranged to meet him in the meeting-hall at Broadmoor Hospital, where he had resided for many years. When I got there a guard opened the huge doors and ushered me in to the open yard, which separated the gatehouse from the main living-quarters. The first thing that struck me was the string of keys on his belt – more keys than it would take to open Fort Knox. I was beginning to wonder where we were going, when he opened yet another locked door – and showed me into a large, dark, damp hall. This was it then – now or never.
We shook hands warmly and he gave me that famous stare. I had been warned about it and I was ready.
‘Nice to meet you,’ he said simply. I was surprised. He looked so well, so smart, so normal – but this was Broadmoor.
‘I’m a twin too,’ I said, squeezing the words through gritted teeth. That was it, the ice melted. ‘I knew it when I saw you’ he told me with a glint in his eye. ‘Sit down – what do you want to know?’
He introduced me to his wife, Kate, and we all sat down and got on with the chat. I couldn’t understand why Ron Kray, an open homosexual, could get married – to a woman. But on seeing the chirpy, delightful Kate, I immediately understood.
I saw him on many occasions in Broadmoor and he introduced me to many a friend. They were colourful characters – all murderers and villains, but colourful nonetheless. The only one, it appeared, he didn’t get on with at the hospital was another infamous inmate – Peter Sutcliffe, the ‘Yorkshire Ripper’. But generally he smiled at them all and everyone smiled back. After all, this was Ron Kray, once the ‘Godfather’ of London and the man who had met the Mafia in New York.
Ron was a great talker. He would tell the stories and relive the moments of his gangland past. And he loved every minute of it. Driving the long way to Broadmoor was no problem for me – in fact, it became a pleasure.
Meeting Reg Kray for the first time, however, was no fun at all. Initially it was simple enough – a few viscous handshakes and some complimentary words, followed by tea and biscuits. But all that would change dramatically – because Reg Kray was slowly, but surely, getting drunk.
I visited Reg in Nottingham Jail to discuss the matter of a new film. They had made pretty good money on the last one and the Kray brothers wanted more of the same. However, what started out as a request for £500,000 quickly became a demand for at least £2 million. What made it worse was the drunken Reg Kray breathing all over me and saying, ‘If I ever find out who did that EastEnders t-shirt deal, I’ll skin ‘em alive!’
The booze had been smuggled into the prison by visitors at the adjoining table, who had a baby with them. The baby bottle was the perfect way to bring illicit vodka into jail – after all, who could object to bringing in a drink for a child? The baby stared hard at Reg when he reached over for his booze. He just couldn’t understand why that funny old man kept drinking his juice.
The talk of t-shirts brought home a few truths to me. I was the one who set up the deal for the so-called EastEnders t-shirts – with full permission of elder brother Charlie. But somehow Charlie had failed to tell his brothers about the deal – and he had pocketed all the money for himself. This, I was to learn, was typical of the Kray brothers. I can even remember being told that Ron’s favourite trick was to run protection rackets on their own establishments. It was just his way of saying ‘I’m the boss – and don’t forget it!’
But all this secrecy was new to me. I had been told so many stories of these twins; they would do anything for each other – and I mean anything. This was a very rude awakening to what it really meant to be a part of the Kray family. It was something that I just had to get used to (or get out of, knees intact) if I could.
I decided to stay with it, but I have regretted that decision many times through the years. Did I really need all those phone calls saying, ‘I’ll sort you out, even if I have to spend the rest of my life in jail’? I don’t think so. All I did was to help – nothing wrong or illegal, all above-board and squeaky-clean. But the Krays just didn’t like being helped. They hated the idea of control being in the hands of someone else, so threats were a constant thing – to keep everyone in check. Well, it had worked well enough in the past, so why not in the future? Ultimately, they just couldn’t change the habits of a lifetime – their past, their present, their future. This was the way the Krays did business.
When discussing the format of this book with my publisher, a pattern clearly developed. It would be impossible to recount every single Kray story and do them justice in one volume, so I have selected a number of topics that I personally feel require further attention. These I have listed chronologically, as the reader can see.
Some of these chapters are lengthy, others only a single page or two. But all are significant in the lives of the Krays and therefore deserve a mention. Other biographers would naturally choose other topics, but I have chosen those events that I feel best explain what it was to be a Kray.
During my time as a ‘Kray writer’, I have had to endure both the slings and the arrows – and I never quite got used to them!
1.
October 1933: Twin Terror – The Birth of the Kray Twins
When Violet Kray was told to expect twins, she couldn’t be sure. Seven years earlier she had been told the same thing when she was pregnant with her eldest son Charles David, but they had been wrong then, so she didn’t know what to expect this time. But this time they were right. Ron and Reg Kray were born on 24 October 1933.
The first to be born was the one soon to be known as Reginald, followed almost an hour later by his twin brother, Ronald. It changed everything for Violet and father Charlie Kray. Charlie had to work even harder to feed his growing family, and Violet had three children to take care of, instead of just one. Having to take care of toddlers was not easy in 1933, especially if you lived in the poorest community in the country.
Charlie had met the young Violet some eight years earlier. They had run away and got married, much to the annoyance of Violet’s father, who wouldn’t talk to them for many years – not, in fact, until the twins came along.
Violet Kray was from the Lee family, and lived in Bethnal Green along with her mum, dad, two sisters and one brother. Her father, John Lee, was known as ‘the Southpaw Cannonball Lee’ – a born fighter and showman. Of Irish and Jewish extraction, he would appear in the music halls licking a red hot poker or walking along a line of bottles, all stood on their necks, facing downwards. He would do his tricks anywhere, even appearing in the local parks. At one time he even owned a string of horses – some 22 in all.
Cannonball was a teetotaller, a keep-fit fanatic who rode the 42 miles to Southend on a bicycle when he was well into his 70s. He was well known in and around Bethnal Green, having also worked in the local market there. It was a sad day when his young daughter, still only 17, ran off with Charlie, the smart little man from Hoxton.
Charlie Kray came from fighting stock too. After all, there were only two ways of making a living in the East End in those days: either as a boxer or as a crook. Charlie’s dad, ‘Mad Jimmy’, was a fighter and a drinker. He was a real character and everyone in Hoxton knew him. He was a flash dresser and was keen on the ladies, but he was no ‘Dapper Dan’ and never gave up in a fight – that’s the way he was, that’s the way the Krays were.
Violet’s husband, however, didn’t take so much after his father. Sure, he was a fighter in his younger days, but he was more of a talker than an out-and-out brawler. It was his chat that got him into buying and selling, going from door to door trying to buy good clothes and gold and silver especially. He would cajole, he would persist, he would pester his way to something of value. The little man was very clever with his mouth.
Being of gypsy and Jewish stock, Charlie found it easy to leave his family. Forever a wanderer, he would stay away for weeks at a time, scouring the country for something sellable. At first they lived in Gorsuch Street, just off Hackney Road, but later, in 1932, they moved. Charlie Kray should have been on a trip around the country, ‘on the knocker’, but on that day of 24 October 1933, he had to stay home at the new address in Stene Street, near Kingland Street.
Hoxton was the home of pickpockets and pubs. People who came from Bethnal Green looked down on the inhabitants of Hoxton. It may have been only a half mile down the road, but to Cannonball Lee it was no-man’s-land, never to be mentioned. He didn’t even want to see Violet back home in the house in Bethnal Green.
All of Violet’s family lived near the old house. Her brother, John, had a café over the road, which he ran with his wife Maude – and her grandparents lived nearby too. Violet was very unhappy about being separated from her family, but she made a good home for her husband and her children – and when the twins were born her father came to call and pronounced her ‘forgiven’.
Violet would take her twins out in the pram. Everyone would stop and look at the lovely youngsters, since twins were by no means a regular sight around the streets of London. The young, blonde woman with her two dark-haired sons were a delight to behold and soon sisters Rose and May would be around asking if they could take the little darlings for a walk. Being the centre of attention had its own attractions for the young ladies, who were trying to charm young men.
Violet protected the twins. She provided a warm home, sheltered from the noise and brash daily life of the East End. And she tried to treat the twins equally. Since having twins made Violet feel special, it made her twins special in her eyes. For the young Charlie, however, it made things only just tolerable. He was the oldest and he had to do everything – run errands, help with the house chores, even help tidy the toys. He turned his attention to sport to get him out of the house that would soon become ruled by the twins, especially Ron.
Reg was the talker of the two; always keen to please, light hearted and amusing. Ron, however, was the shy one, always wanting his way at any cost. He would shout the house down for attention, especially if anyone had been nice to his twin brother. Both twins always wanted to win, but it was normally Ron who triumphed, with his outlandish behaviour and his tricks.
The twins would always stand up for each other all right; always protect each other. Ron in particular soon spotted this and he would constantly get his twin brother drawn into fights. He did what he wanted to do, all the time and without a thought for others. He never asked his brother if it was all right with him, he never questioned his actions – he just did it and took the consequences later. He soon began to dominate.
By the time the twins were three years old, they had never been unwell. But things changed when Reg was taken ill with fever. Soon Ron was ill. And when the doctor came to tell their parents that it was diphtheria, the dreaded day arrived – the twins were split up. Ronnie was taken to the isolation ward of the General Hospital, Hoxton. But twin brother Reggie was taken all the way to St Anne’s Hospital in Tottenham. This was the first time that the twins had been separated, and Violet journeyed from one hospital to the other to see her boys.
Reggie improved almost immediately and after some three months he was back home playing with the kids in the street. But Ron was still not well. He couldn’t breathe and was continually gasping for air. Violet took the bus to the General Hospital and collected her son.
‘He’s fretting,’ she told them. ‘He’s missing his brother,’ And she rushed him straight home to Stene Street.
Just before the war, in 1939, the Kray family moved to 178 Vallance Road, just across the street from Violet’s brother John, and just around the corner from her mum and dad. Her sister May lived only two houses along the road.
Their new home was by no means luxury. There was no bathroom and the toilet was in the yard, where Charlie Kray kept chickens. The house had a large, oak door and a giant, oversized knocker. It was home – and Violet now had the support of her family, especially her sisters. The small, terraced cottages that made up Vallance Road were typical of the village-type properties of the East End and soon everyone called it ‘Lee Street’. Soon, during the war, it would become known as ‘Deserters’ Corner’.
They had a short spell in the Suffolk countryside during the war, but Violet never liked it. She was too far from the family, too far from home. The blitz didn’t seem that bad compared to the solitude of the country. Those little things, so readily available in the East End, were not to be found in Suffolk. The luxuries of life were missing and those who could provide them were a long way off.
The twins, however, loved the countryside. The family stayed at a place called Hadleigh, near Tring, where there were huge, open fields for the youngsters to run around in. They admired the big houses there and hoped one day to settle down in the Suffolk countryside. Later they would often talk of retiring to the peace and quiet they found in their youth.
The Krays were soon back at 178 Vallance Road and the twins were soon out in the bombed-out buildings of the East End, learning to fight and learning to win. This was their training ground, where they played by their own rules. Winning was the name of the game – and they never forgot it!
2.
Summer 1939-49:
Running Away from Trouble
The war changed everything for the Kray family. Like many East Enders, old man Charlie Kray didn’t like the idea of fighting for his country. Just why so many ran to fight in the killing fields of Europe was inexplicable to the Krays; why fight for your country when you had to fight for your own survival?
But Charlie Kray senior was more intent on having a good time ‘on the knocker’ than being at home helping Violet take care of the twins. He didn’t seem to have much to worry about. Vi’s sister Rose lived just around the corner – and there was the young Charlie to give a hand with the housework.
So Charlie Kray, deserter and hence wanted man, travelled the south of the country – even going as far as Wales to make a living. Being on the move made it difficult if not impossible for the authorities to trace him – and it kept him out of harm’s way. But he was away from his family at a very important time. And when he did see them they had to hide him from the police, who were, even at this early stage, keeping a watchful eye on 178 Vallance Road, Bethnal Green.
This was where the twins, Ron and Reg Kray, developed their hatred of authority of any kind. It became a constant concern and it occupied their minds. The game had begun – the Krays versus ‘the old bill’.
Other up-and-coming villains from the East End had different ways of staying out of the army. ‘Mad Frankie’ Fraser earned his nickname when he was before the draft board. He flung himself across the table and grabbed the throat of the officer interviewing him. ‘He must be mad,’ said the red-faced officer, as he lay choking on the floor. The name stuck.
Many crooks from the East End used similar dodges – and many continued during the war to ply their trade up and down the Mile End Road. They did well. Goods were in demand, since the regular supply lines were severed on a daily basis. Anyone who had anything good for sale was welcomed into many an East End house – and so it was at Vallance Road. This buying from the back of a truck soon became the usual practice in the East End, where money was in short supply and goods were scarce.
With old man Charlie on the run it was the younger Charlie who took over many of the responsibilities normally undertaken by the father. Aunt Rose was a great influence and the twins adored her, but it was Charlie who did the housework, did the jobs to bring in some urgently needed extra money – and who tried to keep the twins in check.
It wasn’t easy for the youngster. As soon as the twins were born his life changed – things were never to be the same again. Some seven years older than his brothers, he showed caring and maturity far beyond his years. But somehow, in the back of his mind, he knew that his brothers would not only change his own life – but would change the lives of people all over the country.
Violet devoted herself to her twins. They were special – and this made the Kray family special. But Charlie didn’t like being singled out as the older brother of the twins; he didn’t like missing out on the normal childhood his friends were lucky enough to have and he didn’t appreciate being forgotten by his own father. The start of the war was the end of normal life for the Krays.
Whether or not their father, old man Charlie, would have made any difference to their lives at this time is debatable, but there are good psychological grounds for saying that families without a prominent father figure have more problems with their male offspring than those with a so-called ‘normal’ two-parent family.
Ron and Reg would even join in when their parents argued – always taking their mother’s side in any row. They didn’t know their father very well, even after the war, since he was still a wanted deserter. So with all his years of buying and selling all over the South of England and Wales before the war and trying to escape the police after the war, old man Charlie Kray really didn’t know his sons.
But Violet encouraged the twins to respect their father. He was, after all, the breadwinner and he deserved their love and devotion. The twins agreed to her wishes, not because of any strong feelings towards their father, but because of the promise they made to their mum, who they idolised and worshipped. They would protect their father, all right – but not if it caused their mum any harm.
Playing games with the police, who often came to the house in search of their father, soon became a cherished pastime for the twins. On one occasion they hid their dad under a table. Ron saw the policeman trying to peer under the tablecloth and threw him off by quickly saying, ‘You don’t expect to find him there, do you?’ Another time they hid him in a cupboard and used the same trick to great effect.
The idea of beating the law made them feel better and more powerful than the law. They now began to make up their own rules of conduct. If anyone broke those rules then they would be punished. The Kray twins would soon become the judges, the jury and the executioners.
Ron and Reg Kray settled into school, where they didn’t do very well academically, but where they excelled at after school ‘activities’ – such as gang fights in the bomb craters of the East End. Ron, the younger of the twins, dominated here too. Reg would let Ron take the lead – wherever Ron went, Reg was sure to follow. At only eight years of age Ron and Reg Kray became known as the ‘terrible’ twins.
The twins learned how to handle any situation, thinking on their feet. Sometimes, when the police came to call, they would tell them that their parents were divorced. ‘Dad don’t live here any more,’ was something the old bill got used to. They would go from house to house over the back fences and through the yards of the neighbouring houses, many of which were inhabited by members of the Lee family. Aunt May’s husband was also on the run, away from ‘Deserter’s Corner’, so they had many a willing helper nearby when it came to finding a suitable hiding place for old man Charlie.
But in other ways too, things were different when their dad was home. He wouldn’t tell them the usual pleasant night-time stories, as favoured by their mum and Aunt Rose. He would tell them tales of pickpockets and thieves he knew; of people who worked in the fairgrounds and in the streets; of low-life villains who used violence and conflict as a way of life. Soon the twins relished the idea of having a father who was a ‘wanted man’, someone who had escaped the clutches of the law and who had survived to tell the tale.
Shortly after the war, the fairgrounds opened up again and the twins were able to meet their dad’s pals and the folk of his adventurous tales face-to-face. It was Grandfather Lee who took them to their first fair at Victoria Park, with their father, old man Charlie, scowling in the background trying to evade the eyes of the ever-watchful police.
The twins especially liked the boxing booths, where professional fighters would take on anyone. Ron and Reg loved the blood, the sweat – and the tears. And they loved the sight of the pain and anguish – fear even, on the fighters’ faces. This was where the local lads got to perform and where they could earn a name – as hard men, tough guys and men who were not afraid of confrontation. This was where they could build a reputation by sending a man crashing to the floor.
This first occasion here after the war was to teach the twins an invaluable lesson. They were watching the fights and enjoying every minute when the ringmaster called for men from the audience to enter the ring and to take on the champ. No one volunteered.
‘Who’ll be next?’ shouted the ringmaster once more. Again silence. ‘There’s a fiver in it for you!’ he said. The lure of the money did the trick. ‘I’ll do it,’ shouted Ron Kray as he made a dash for the ring. At only 11 years of age, Ron Kray was no match for the heavyweight standing in the ring. As the audience began to laugh, Reg Kray gritted his teeth.
‘Come back next year, sonny – you may be bigger by then,’ shouted the ringmaster as the tent boomed with laughter. This was by now far too much for Reg to take. He couldn’t see his brother tormented in this way.
‘I’ll fight him,’ shouted Reg, as he strolled towards his brother in the ring. There was pure determination on his face and the ring went quiet. The professional boxer climbed through the ropes and into the crowds as the ringmaster called the boys together. The fight began.
Arms flew everywhere as the twins punished each other with vicious blows to the head and to the body. Time and time again they lashed out in a frenzy as the onslaught continued, neither giving way to the other. Suddenly Reg understood that there was a way to defeat his brother – simply by playing to the rules of the game. He enjoyed it in the ring, there was no fear for him here and it was down to him and him alone. In this most lonely of places Reg came of age.
Ron didn’t like being hit by his brother, who was obviously a much better boxer, but he loved the punching, the ducking and the diving. As the sweat flowed both twins were beginning to learn a lesson and when the blood appeared it was time for the ringmaster to call a halt.
‘It’s a draw,’ he announced, and he paid both boys for their performance. The crowds cheered and the twins loved the adulation of their first real audience. Grandfather Lee was all smiles as they walked back to Vallance Road, but old man Charlie was prepared for the worst. He could see the bloodied noses and the battered faces of the twins – and so too would Violet . . .
Their mother hit the roof when they returned. Their father was proud of their performance, but Violet was scornful in her assessment of the situation. There and then she made the twins promise not to fight each other ever again. The twins knew she was right, they had sensed this when they were thrashing each other with the best punches they could muster, back at Victoria Park. It was time to work together. The next time they would fight side by side, back to back – against anyone who got in their way.
When they were 12, the twins got into trouble by firing an air rifle in a public place and were put on probation. But this didn’t stop their fights. They were quickly back on the streets with their chains and their knives and the fights soon grew in intensity. The twins were now rulers of the ruins – and no one could stop them.
In 1949 the twins appeared in court. At only 16 they were accused of having beaten and battered a youngster from another gang, using chains and iron bars. There were witnesses to the event, but the twins had already developed certain survival tactics, so the witnesses were scared off and the case was dismissed when it came to the Old Bailey. Even the lad who had been beaten refused to give evidence against them. This would have meant breaking the East End code of not snitching.
‘You don’t grass,’ said Ron – so he didn’t.
Shortly after this incident, the twins were again in trouble. Ron had punched a policeman by the name of PC Baynton and had been taken into custody at the local ‘nick’. When Charlie arrived Ron’s face was bruised and battered. Charlie warned them, and told them he was taking his brother to the doctor, with or without the police’s permission. They let them go, but the news soon reached Reg.
Reg went out, scouring the East End for the villain of the piece – PC Baynton. He found him – and hammered him to the floor. Reg was soon in that same cell previously occupied by his brother. But no one came near him. Charlie’s warning had done the trick.
At the trial Reverend Father Hetherington spoke up for the twins. He told the court that it was completely out of character for the twins, whom he had known since they were born. ‘They are most helpful in the community,’ he told the court. ‘They have helped me on many an occasion.’
The twins were put on parole – and they walked free. Their father, old man Charlie Kray, was always running away from trouble, trying to hide his head in the sand, saying, ‘If they can’t find me, then they can’t hurt me.’ But the twins, Ron and Reg, never worried about trouble. They would never back down or run away – they were fearless!
3.
December 1951: Fighting the good fight
All three Kray brothers fought on the same bill at The Royal Albert Hall on 11 December 1951. It was a record then and it still stands today as an outstanding achievement.
The twins had trained rigorously for the event and were looking forward to their fights, eager to show what they could do in the ring. But Charlie wasn’t in good shape – he didn’t have the heart for fighting any more. He had only signed on for the match when his manager, Jack Jordan, offered him the princely sum of twenty-five pounds for the evening’s work and, as usual, money did the trick. With Charlie it was always, ‘Show me the money!’
Charlie was good at his trade, even fighting for the Royal Navy when in the services. He had taken up fighting at an early age. It taught him discipline and it taught him to pace himself – and it earned him respect. The Krays all had fighting pedigree – it was in the blood.
Violet didn’t like fighting at all, but she had to accept it. She was Cannonball Lee’s daughter and she was used to seeing her father come home at night bloodied from ear to ear. She had to accept it then – and she had to accept it now with her own children.
Old man Charlie, however, was proud of his lads. He even used to sort out their kit before the fights, pressing the shorts and packing up the bundles of clothes – one for Reg, one for Ron, one for his oldest son and namesake, Charlie. It was a ritual to him. Highly polished black boots, clean white socks, blue satin dressing gowns, towels, protective cups and anything else he thought would go down well. They were all carefully prepared and tidied away.
The Kray name was by now well known, both in and out of the ring. Old man Charlie got a real kick out of it. He would swagger down Bethnal Green Road when the fights were on, accepting the acknowledgements of the locals and a drink or two when offered. In this way he was trying to make up for the love missing in the twins’ formative years, when he was on the run from the police – a deserter, wanted by the law.
Their father was a cunning and shrewd businessman, but handling children was something that he never wanted in his younger days. They were a handful, those kids, always in and out of the house, always in and out of trouble, always in his hair. But he never harmed them in any way, or mistreated them. He just wasn’t there for them when they were growing up. A few visits to the Suffolk countryside to see the family wasn’t enough for any of them, but that was what they got. The twins accepted this, but they never forgave him for it and always took their mum’s side in any argument at 178 Vallance Road.
It was their father who was the breadwinner. He travelled far and wide throughout the south of England – even to Wales. And he always came home with the bacon. He would literally buy and sell anything, going from house to house pestering his way to goods, unwanted or unneeded. There was a market for anything in those days and old man Charlie Kray was the best in the game.
If old man Charlie was the breadwinner, then it was Violet who took care of everything else. She looked after all three children with pride and dignity and she never let them starve or go short. She also had the family nearby, the Lees, to help her when things were difficult and it was Aunt Rose who was always the first to offer assistance. It was Aunt Rose who became their surrogate father, so the ways of the Krays became dominated by women at an early stage. None of the women liked the fights, but they would never let on, never refuse to let them show their worth. It was a question of honour, just as much for the family as it was for the sons.
Charlie Kray had started boxing early on at senior school and he had been training ever since, three nights a week since the age of 15. It was Cannonball Lee, his grandfather, who rigged up the gym in the upstairs bedroom. He joined the naval cadets at Hackney Wick and even fought off the effects of rheumatic fever to become a champion. Charlie was serious about boxing at first, but later his energies were consumed elsewhere – when wine, women and song became his daily routine. The twins took over the punch-bag and the weights, and by the time they were in their early teens they were accomplished boxers.
It was the sight of a cabinet full of prizes and trophies that encouraged the twins to take up the ‘noble art’. Soon they had their own trophies and prizes, enough to make them serious about considering boxing as a way of making a living. Now, on 11 December 1951, all three Kray brothers were to fight as professional boxers at one of London’s most famous venues, The Royal Albert Hall.
Jack Jordan, their manager, drove them to the awesome arena in his Riley. He had been their manager for years and he had even managed to get good seats for a family party keen on seeing their boys do the business. But Violet didn’t come. The thought of one of her sons being hit and possibly injured was too much for her. She stayed home at Vallance Road, with a cup of tea – and prayed.
The car pulled up outside the side entrance at Exhibition Road and they piled out. Ron was due to fight first, then Reg and finally Charlie. They were all ready. It was now or never.
Ron was quickly dressed for the fight and Jack Jordan led him from the dressing room. Reg and Charlie followed close behind. The atmosphere could have been cut with a knife as Ron trod that red carpet leading to the ring. Reg and Charlie stood behind the curtain – and watched. Soon it would be their turns. The fanfare blared out as Ron entered the ring.
Henry Berry was taking care of Ron in the ring and he tried to give his fighter encouragement. Ron, however, appeared to be somewhat indifferent. He was taking it easy – some would say too easy. In the feverish heat Ron Kray started to sweat.
Smoke filled the hall as the fight fans were eager to get things started. Everything was intense, everything was noisy, everything was getting hot. As the master of ceremonies called out his name, Ron Kray took no notice. His opponent, Bill Sliney, was introduced. The man from King’s Cross was due to fight the man from Bethnal Green.
The referee called both men to the centre of the ring.
‘We want a nice clean fight,’ he told them. ‘No butting, no holding, no low punches!’ He looked both fighters in the eyes. ‘Go to it,’ he said. ‘Have a good fight.’
Ron Kray strolled back to his corner and the waiting Henry Berry who again offered his fighter encouragement. They didn’t have long to wait for the fight to begin. ‘Seconds out,’ shouted the time-keeper. The bell rang out loud and clear. The fight was under way.
It couldn’t have started any better for Ron Kray. He had Bill Sliney down for a count of eight at the start of the opening round. The odds were beginning to look good – when a dangerous clash of heads changed everything. It left Ron’s left eye in a bad way and he could hardly see. But Ron wanted to continue – he was strong and wanted to win. Surely that would be enough . . . The doctor entered the ring and took a look at the almost-closed eye. ‘Continue,’ he said.
The first round ended. Both men were tired; they had fought well. But Ron’s left eye was closed now and he couldn’t see well. He was unable to judge distance, and being short sighted didn’t make it any easier.
‘Keep your distance,’ urged Henry Berry. But Ron knew what he had to do and was determined to do it.
At the start of round two Bill Sliney came out into the ring, circling to the left, anti-clockwise. Ron now had a real problem, with his opponent going out of vision from time to time. Sliney’s corner had given him good advice and it worked well.
‘Jab!’ they shouted from Sliney’s corner as he began to dominate.
‘Box!’ shouted Henry Berry. But Ron knew that there was only one way to win, and that was through sheer courage. He had to get close and land that killing blow. But throughout the rest of the fight he couldn’t catch Bill Sliney. When the verdict came it was close, but they all knew the outcome.
Ron Kray lost on a narrow margin – a close decision on points. That closed eye made all the difference. It was an accident all right – Sliney was a clean fighter, but in defeat Ron had here been made to learn the hard way that sheer will to win was not enough, courage in abundance was not enough, and pride was not enough.
Ron Kray quietly slipped away through the ropes and into the dressing-room. He cleaned up his face as Reg walked out to face Bob Manito. Charlie helped Ron, dreading the time when he would have to take him home – to Vallance Road, and his mother.
Reg went through the same routine. He was ready – all psyched up for anything the south Londoner from Clapham could throw at him. He was undoubtedly the best of the Krays when it came to boxing. He had fought many times as a junior, winning most of his fights on points. He didn’t have the knock-out punch of his twin brother Ron, but he had determination and will power, and the skill to go with it.
Reg won every round easily on points. Manito never landed a telling blow and Reg skipped his way out of trouble. He had trained well for the fight. He was fit and clever too. He fought with his mind as well as his gloves.
The decision was unanimous, Reg Kray was the victor.
Reg had listened to Henry Berry and followed his every word, unlike his brother Ron. It may have been the trainer’s words that formed the basis of the tactics, but it was the fighting skill of the young 18 year old that had won the day. And Reg enjoyed winning.
Reg was smiling as he made his way back to the dressing room to the cheers of the crowd. Ron greeted him with a hug, as Charlie walked out to face his opponent, Lew Lazar. There was only one thought in Charlie’s mind – to get that twenty-five pounds.
Henry Berry knew that Charlie wasn’t in good shape. ‘If you go down,’ he told him, ‘then stay down!’ Charlie knew it was good advice. But once again there was that Kray pride to contend with. It followed him everywhere. Would it help or hinder him here?
The first round went well enough. Charlie kept his distance and it was fairly even. But round two saw a total change in the fight when Lazar felled him with a left hook to the stomach. Charlie staggered to his feet, but he knew his time had come.
He managed to get up and box on, but not for long. Soon another powerful left hook sent him once more onto the canvas. His trainer was telling him to stay down, to concede victory. But Charlie’s pride wouldn’t let him. Maybe he could endure it all – and still win? He clung on to the ropes until the bell sounded for the end of the round, before edging his way back to his corner, and his trainer.
‘That’s enough, Charlie,’ Henry told the breathless boxer. ‘You’ve earned your money. Next time, stay down.’ Charlie nodded, but could he do it? Could he give up? The bell sounded and he knew that he would soon find the answer.
Yet another left hook to the stomach sent Charlie Kray down for the count. Charlie looked at his corner, then he looked at the referee. But up he came again. That fighting spirit was still there, but was that enough to win? The fight was going all one way and the whole crowd knew it. It was no surprise when the telling blow came. It knocked Charlie to the floor and this time he just couldn’t get up, no matter how much he tried. The referee counted to ten. It was the slowest count that Charlie had ever heard. It was over. He had lost – on a knock out! His trainer soon got him back to his seat and got the revival process under way. Charlie even managed a smile as he was sponged down.
The crowd roared their approval as Charlie walked back to the dressing-room. He only had one thought in his mind now, as he strode down that red carpet and out of the hall. At least his brothers hadn’t seen his defeat.
Back in the dressing-room all three Kray brothers were laughing and joking when their manager Jack Jordan entered. He had seen it all from ringside and he had been particularly impressed with Reg, he said. He had plans for him, big plans – maybe even championship fights.
When he shook Charlie’s hand he gave him the twenty-five pounds. It was all there, no manager’s cut as usual. This was Charlie Kray’s last fight and they all knew it. And he had earned the money.
The drive back to Vallance Road was quiet. Ron’s eye was still closed and Charlie didn’t look too well either. They were all thinking of their mum and of how she would take it.