Doing the Business - The Final Confession of the Senior Kray Brother. Charles Kray
pawns in the gangs’ games, but still in need of protection.
Whatever the situation, if any business approached by the firm refused to pay up, then they would soon find that their place of business would be burgled, torched, or just busted up. Business proprietors were over a barrel, between the devil and the deep blue sea. They paid up.
Whether ethical or not, the Krays prided themselves on providing a form of order in the East End. And they felt they were scrupulous and fair. Businesses were guaranteed safety and they generally had to pay protection money once, and not in various amounts to any number of rival gangs, each operating the same scheme. In that sense they were the best. Although they played on people’s fears, they were fearless themselves and unbeatable.
They provided a service that was unrivalled. Trouble was dealt with quickly and quietly by the twins, or by members of the firm acting on orders from them. They were always adamant that violence was to be used only as a tactical weapon, and in particular only against rival gangs and troublemakers. Nevertheless the threat of violence was the hub of the protection business. It never went away.
Reg Kray believed that the protection rackets, as they existed in the East End of London in the 1950s, were an ugly form of business. When the twins devised their own system, they wanted to give it a form of dignity and went out of their way to stress its advantages to their customers. They likened their system of operations to that of an insurance company. To them the protection racket was a business with something to offer, not something for nothing or extortion. They were quite prepared to supply a service and called it doing the business, which they did very diplomatically. Rarely did they demand money directly or violently.
The firm offered two forms of protection: nipping and pension. If you were on the nipping list, the Krays or one of the firm, would nip into a shop or pub and nip out again with a token, consumable payment, such as a crate of gin or cartons of cigarettes. Anything that they might use then and there, themselves or to hand out to their family and friends. Generosity opens doors and stores up favours.
Or they might spend an evening in a pub or club, standing drinks for everyone and anyone. At the end of the evening, with a word from the firm, the bill for the night out would be torn up and the evening’s entertainment paid for courtesy of the house. Sometimes a gold watch or pair of gold cufflinks engraved with RK would be left as security for a loan to the firm. A week or so later someone from the firm would call; Reg or Ron needed his cufflinks for a special outing. The question of the loan was never raised again.
The twins particularly liked this form of payment. It was the way friends operate, saying, ‘Forget it, this one’s on me,’ or ‘Your money isn’t any good here.’ To Ron and Reg, it made the scheme more acceptable and dignified. Always say please and thank you, even when you’re thieving it. With no money changing hands, no one got their hands dirty. In return, the twins emphasized that they were always on call to help. Just give us a call. Mates doing each other a good turn.
The pension list was altogether more businesslike. The arrangement would be worked out in advance by Reg. He based it on turnover. It was a percentage of the weekly takings and always strictly cash. Collection would be made on the dot, at a fixed date and time. The pension was where the real money was made, especially with those businesses that operated illegally, such as unlicensed gambling houses, clubs or bookies. No one could ever complain to the law. It was a watertight earner, though sometimes not just in cash terms. Occasionally, the twins liked to gamble and took a share in the business itself, instead of a cash payment. By the mid-sixties they’d expanded to about thirty share interests. It was boomtime.
The twins’ nose for business was unbeatable, but once or twice someone would slip through their net. One such was Peter Cook, entertainer and club owner. He was approached by Ron and Reg at the opening of his London club. Never ones to miss a commercial opportunity, as the Krays mingled and downed a few glasses of champagne, they approached Peter Cook with an offer he couldn’t refuse. Or so they thought.
The conversation began with the infamous opening gambit, ‘Don’t you think you need …’?
Cook’s reply was direct — and probably simplified by the fact that, at that time, he’d never heard of the Krays. He told them straight — he wasn’t in need of any protection. If any trouble cropped up, one of London’s largest and busiest police stations was right next door. Without losing face, the twins left as soon as they could. It was not a story ever to remind them of.
Failures were not that common in the firm, but as with every other business venture, they happened. Like any insurance company, the Krays were asked to cough up from time to time.
This happened with a car dealership, in the early days of their protection, towards the end of 1955. The twins had more car dealers on their books than they’d had hot dinners. They knew exactly the strings to pull to get you a motor. It was all legal and above board, except that you didn’t keep up your payments. You could bank on keeping it for a couple of years, the repossession from the finance company took that long at least.
On some occasions you didn’t need a deposit, but what had gone wrong this particular time was that a used car had been sold to a customer — and it had broken down the next day.
The man wanted his money back. Full stop. No excuses. When the dealer refused, the customer said he’d be back the following day — with some friends from south of the river. They were going to rough up the dealer and try to get the money back. As the dealer had been paying protection money to the twins, he called them up at the Regal and explained the situation.
Ron got really excited. At last a chance for some real action with a south of the river gang. He sent along a minder to babysit the dealership premises, who was to phone him at the billiard hall as soon as the gang turned up. But he was to be disappointed. The client showed on his own, full of apologies for how he’d behaved the previous day. With this climbdown from the customer, the dealer relaxed, and the two men started to sort it out in a friendly way.
Making friends was not on Ron’s mind when he stormed in ten minutes later, not aware of the new found common ground. Following the principle of shoot first and ask questions later, he emptied his gun, a Luger automatic, into the astonished customer.
Dressed in a Capone-style overcoat, he looked every inch a gangster. Fortunately, Ron was always a terrible shot, and the first bullet missed from point-blank range. Nevertheless one bullet lodged itself in the customer’s leg, and he writhed on the floor of the office in considerable pain.
Once he’d cooled down, Ron took stock of the situation and realized he had no enemies there. But possibly to hide his embarrassment or perhaps just in a blind fury that there was no opportunity of a shoot-out in the Wild West of the East End, he stormed off much as he’d arrived — unannounced and unexplained. Mopping up was left to Reg, as it often was. He made sure that the wounded man didn’t talk. He visited him in hospital and had a friendly chat. Reg could be very persuasive.
The twins were nearing their twenty-second birthday, with the firm a successful and thriving outfit. The Regal had proved an excellent base from which to develop their business activities, and the twins took advantage of any good idea or crooked scheme for making easy money. Even this early on it was clear that neither Ron nor Reg believed it possible to make a substantial living out of a legitimate business operation although they had turned the Regal round into profit, legally. Both twins felt sure that there was much more to be made from illegal or criminal activities.
One of the drawbacks of a life of crime came, however, when Ron was eventually arrested for grievous bodily harm and sentenced to three years’ imprisonment on 5 November 1956. He wouldn’t be back at the Regal till the spring of 1959. Reg had been able to smooth things out for him in the past, but this time he couldn’t help his brother.
The tables were turned in 1960, when Reg landed an eighteen-month sentence in Wandsworth Prison for his apparent involvement in a shady protection deal. Reg had accompanied a man called Shay on a visit to a shop in the Finchley Road, north London. Shay had been paying Ron Kray for the use of his name in some business deals. Reg was there to help Shay, but Shay had not filled