Doing the Business - The Final Confession of the Senior Kray Brother. Charles Kray
had begun to give Reg and Charlie a few good ideas, tipping them off with inventive investment opportunities. Billy Hill and Jack ‘Spot’ Comer were self-styled kings of London’s underworld from the forties, but by the time Hill started handing out advice to the Krays he had taken himself into retirement.
Charlie and Reg appreciated Hill’s help. Hill, in turn, needed his protégés, heirs to his business. He also wanted someone he could trust to keep an eye on the remaining business interests he still had in London. Through him the Krays became involved in all kinds of business, though their preference was certainly for the legitimate or at least semi-legitimate deal. Billy Hill was a shrewd operator, who had been successfully running protection for more than a decade.
Hill introduced Reg and Charlie to the West End of London, particularly to the gambling clubs. He had been a man of influence there and was still not without his contacts. The Krays’ visits to Soho with Billy Hill were a real eye-opener as to where the real money could be found and made. With changes in the gaming rules about to be instituted, Charlie and Reg knew it was an ideal time to get involved. And the ideal place would be the Double R. Prosperity, fame and a life of ease, without crime or at least almost so, seemed within reach. Charlie and Reg were on their way. There was, however, one major obstacle: Ron.
Ron had been inside for two years, and Reg and Charlie had made the most of this time. They’d had a good two years. But, it couldn’t last for ever and Ron would be out soon. He had made a fleeting visit to the Double R during his escape from Long Grove Hospital, where he’d been sent during his prison sentence. It was a plan that had been engineered by his family and friends. That visit had been brief and unremarkable in terms of running things. Once Ron came out for good, though, in 1959, and joined them at the club, everything changed for the worse.
Ron started to take over. He would invite his friends to the club, and he was uninhibited about spending the ‘house’ money. He enjoyed the club, and he behaved as he always had. He would run up a bill and have it wiped clean at the end of the evening, just like one of his protection deals. But this was his home patch, not some protected public house or drinking club.
Ron’s behaviour became a real problem. He was out of prison and a bit out of his head. Not at all well. He was very moody, up and down. No one could handle him. His paranoia was knife-edge and high, and one of his beefs was the way he thought Charlie had taken his place with Reg. Although Reg had tried to explain to Ron the practicality of his and Charlie’s business arrangement, Ron was not prepared to understand or even to listen. He thought both Reg and Charlie had been disloyal to him. For a while he wouldn’t have much to do with either his twin or Charlie, spending much of his time away in the country, in Jersey or just out.
Reg and Charlie wanted to get on with their lives. To make more of what they’d started with the Double R and their new business deals. The living was good. It was legal, or near enough, and they had no problems with the law. They didn’t want trouble, full stop. They had made a truce with all the other gangs to try to secure peace. But Ron soon changed all this.
Ron caused major fall-outs with other gangs, and he began to rule the roost again, in much the same way as he had done before his sentence. He stirred everyone up. He wanted fame, and he wanted to fight for power. That was Ron’s way. Reg and Charlie could only sit back and watch everything they built up together dissolve right in front of their eyes.
If you can’t beat ‘em, then join ‘em. Reg felt this way. Ron’s influence was too strong for him to resist, and before long he was following his twin’s example. Reg began to take less and less part in the running of the Double R along the lines he and Charlie had established. It was the beginning of the end. No one could control Ron, and eventually he won. Violence, which had been a rare occurrence at the club, became a regular, nightly event. It got even worse when one night someone tried to shoot Reg as he was shutting up for the night. And then the police took to raiding the Double R all the time.
One such raid occurred early on a midweek evening. The police poured into the club on the pretext of checking the customers’ membership. When Ron saw the police enter the club, he rushed up on stage and stopped the music. Fred Merry had been entertaining a few early evening customers with some old favourites.
Ron snatched the microphone from Fred and announced, ‘I’m sorry about this. It’s a police raid.’
He paused for a moment, before adding, ‘Since none of these gentlemen is a member, they will be leaving very soon. We are not allowed to serve non-members here!’
Ron just had to have his little joke, at any expense.
The police were there to search the place. They didn’t know what they were looking for — they were just looking. Reg really got mad when some of the police raced up the stairs to the gymnasium. It was in use by regular punters, just men training who didn’t have any edge to them other than boxing. It was a popular training establishment for many champions and boxers alike, men such as Barney Bill, Ken Johnstone, Tommy McGovern, Terry Allen and from time to time even Henry Cooper. They didn’t like interruptions at the best of times.
Reg got so furious as he watched the gym, his pride and joy, overrun by the law. He took off his jacket and sprang into the boxing ring, yelling, ‘Come on, then. If this is what you really want. If any of you young officers want any trouble, then just come here. Then it’ll be all legal.’
It was clear that Reg wasn’t just mouthing off. He meant every word. No one took his challenge and, ignoring him, the police left the club as abruptly as they’d arrived.
For that evening at least, there were no more uninvited guests at the club. But things could really only get worse. And they did. After three years in operation, they were refused a spirits licence and had to close down.
Over the preceding year, the police had shown increasing interest in the club, and it had been under police surveillance for some time — from the time when Ron had first been on the run from Long Grove Hospital. With Ron around full time, relations with the law had gone from bad to worse. But the final nail in the Double R’s coffin had come when Reg had refused to help the police to find Ronnie Marwood.
Marwood had killed a policeman, and it was common knowledge in the East End that Reg Kray knew where he was hiding. Reg blankly refused to help with their enquiries, not because he was a good friend of Marwood but because he could not bring himself to inform to the police. No grassing was an important part of his code of ethics. He wouldn’t budge. It would have been unthinkable.
Reg’s silence annoyed the police, but they couldn’t break it. What they could do was to return the disfavour.
When the Double R’s licence came up for renewal, they refused it. There was a distinct difference in attitude between the law that ran the East and West Ends of London. In the West End, money talked, bribery worked, and problems were ironed out with hard cash. In the East End, however, any slight disagreement was dealt with quickly and harshly by the police. One of their favourite secret weapons was to withdraw or refuse a spirits licence. It was highly effective.
Maybe it had something to do with respect or regard for people of influence. Maybe it was the lure of a large wad of notes in their hands. Maybe it was a more fluid society with greater social mobility than the East End. Whatever the reason, a lot more police bribery and corruption occurs in the West End.
The Double R was forced to shut its doors. It was a sad occasion, especially for Reg. The club had been his baby, his idea in the first place. He had put a huge amount of effort and energy into it and had made it very successful. The gymnasium had been a major part of it. Reg was immensely proud of his achievement, but it all had to go. Ron Kray, the Colonel, had woven his spell and made sure of that.
There was one loose end that remained to be tied. Down in the club cellars there was enough booze to open an off-licence. But that wouldn’t be the Krays’ style, to do something so obvious — or so legitimate. Instead, they boarded up the windows of the Double R and held a huge party for all their family and friends. They drank and partied for days until all the spirits, wine and beer had gone, every last drop. They’d been stopped for the time being but had fun