The Mammoth Book of Hard Bastards (Mammoth Books) (53 page)

Martin reckons that he will continue to work the doors and further develop his training techniques, as well as write, give seminars and, of course, keep up his own training. Add to a wide range of fighting skills the correct mindset, Neuro-Linguistic Programming, situational awareness, years of experience and the will to use everything you have as a protector rather than a predator, and you have the embodiment of a really hard bastard.

B
ARE-KNUCKLE, COBBLE- OR
street-fighting has been around since the year dot but is most commonly associated with the gypsy community. Of course, not all cobble-fighters are of travelling stock but travellers have settled financial and domestic disputes in this noble way for centuries. The top man in the unlicensed game has long been known as the “Guv’nor”, and the travellers hail him as “King of the Gypsies”.

The most common method is what is known as a “straightener” where no kicking or butting is permitted and a mutually agreed “fair play man” acts as a referee. The fair play man is usually somebody who has been a fighter themselves and has respect from everyone involved. No gloves are worn on the cobbles and commonly the fight continues until one side calls “best” (gives in) or is simply unconscious. The “all in” method is even more savage and has no rules at all. “All in” fights have been known to be fought to the death!

It goes without saying that the “all in” is the most brutal, savage form of organized street combat and is mostly saved for family versus other family disputes where pure hatred or revenge is the motivation. While unlicensed boxing is legal and includes gloves, bare-knuckle fighting is illegal so people get confused, thinking that any brawl is a bare-knuckle street fight. I have worked on the doors for many years and some doormen count a punch up with a drunk or simply slinging one out as a street fight. This is the only
explanation
for some of the ridiculous tallies of street fights some doormen claim. Depending on the interview, Lenny McLean claimed around 30,000 bare-knuckle fights! Sorry, but unless you are counting every drunk you turn away, that’s impossible! If you have witnessed a real, organized bare-knuckle fight – a proper street fight – you will realize that these figures cannot be true.

Also, so much money is staked on these fights that with that many clean wins, McLean would have owned his own island! Trust me, twenty to thirty organized bare-knuckle fights is a lot, even in a lifetime. Lenny’s unlicensed record was thirty fights, six losses, knocked out four times, stopped once in three rounds and outpointed once. That would mean he won thousands of fights against raw hard knuckle but was knocked spark out with gloves on – it doesn’t add up. I intend no disrespect, but it has to be said that some of what Lenny McLean said was far from the truth, and this has now even been admitted by McLean fans such my good friend Tony Thomas, whose book
The Guv’nor: Through the Eyes of Others
is a classic read. Unlike pro boxing, you can’t just look up fighters’ records in unlicensed or bare-knuckle fighting, so quite often a fighter’s more sensational accounts are mistakenly accepted as the truth.

I am fortunate enough to have lots of gypsy friends who are staunch, respected people, including good, solid families like the Frankhams, Stockins, Smiths, Frenches, Brazils and men like “Gypsy” Joe Carrington. These are proud people and don’t leave their crap everywhere; some of their caravans are like palaces.

There are some great bare-knuckle gypsy names that run down the years including Tucker Dunn, the Gaskins, Mark Ripley, Hughie Burton, Uriah Burton (known as “Big Just”), John-John Stanley, boxer Tom Taylor, Dan Rooney, John Rooney, Ernie McGinley, Henry “The Dentist” Arab, Henry “The Outlaw” Francis, Eli Frankham, Joe-Boy Botton, Bobby Frankham, Johnny Love, Joe Smith and, one of the best fighters I have witnessed, Louis Welch from Darlington, who could well be considered the modern-day “King of the Gypsies”. Mark Ripley from Kent is a man with an awesome reputation. Joey Pyle’s son Joe Jr, a man who was brought up surrounded by the fight game, calls Mark “one hell of a tasty bastard”. Joe Jr has seen it all and is not easily impressed. When you add that to the equation, Mark really is a bit special.

One man who you really wouldn’t want to fight on the cobbles is former British light-middleweight champion Andy Till. He is simply ferocious! He is no longer a light middleweight but he is one of the hardest men I have met and I know most of them! When Andy was British champion, he was also a milkman. He would do his roadwork at around 3 a.m. and then go on his round – that would kill most people for a start off! He was a good man and took his Lonsdale belt to his kids’ school to show all the children. Andy was a warrior in the ring, one of those you would have to near kill to beat.

On his milk round one day, he knocked on the door of a family with a bit of a reputation to collect the bill. For some reason, a row broke out. Then three big lumps who were brothers all sprinted halfway down the stairs and took flying leaps at Andy. Andy clumped each one right on the button while they were in mid-air. Each of the brothers thumped to the ground fast asleep after being knocked spark out. Another member of the family then went to fetch the milk bill money. If only they had done that in the first place!

Andy had some rowdy, loyal supporters as well. During a fight with a guy named Robert McCracken from Watford, the crowd tried to kill each other in one of the worst boxing crowd bust-ups ever seen. But if you want to see Andy at his best, watch the two fights against Wally Swift, a highly rated boxer, also from Watford, and you will see how hard Andy Till is. I think Andy could have been pretty untouchable on the unlicensed circuit but, although he came to a few shows, including ones I have organized, I don’t know if he was interested in doing it. Andy had been fighting since a very young age, so he may have fancied a well-earned rest by then. But he’s certainly not someone to take liberties with!

Without doubt one of the hardest men in a street fight is not a gypsy either but on the top rung of the “chaps” – his name is Vic Dark. Vic is a soft spoken, polite gentleman from the East End and now lives in Essex. Young Vic Dark was a member of the notorious West Ham ICF (Inter City Firm). A lot of hard men started in the ICF, like Carlton Leach, Cass Pennant, Steve Guy and Billy Gardner. Add Vic Dark, and just those few are positively lethal!

Vic is a black belt in a number of martial arts and a heavyweight lifter. But Vic doesn’t use karate or one particular fighting art, he mixes everything together into one awesome street-fighting
technique
so that I really don’t think anyone would get near him on the street. He is also extremely respected by the top so-called gangsters. He was a pallbearer along with young Joe Pyle, Roy Shaw, Jamie Foremen (movie star son of Freddie), Freddie himself and Ronnie Nash at the funeral of the “Boss of Bosses”, Joey Pyle Sr. That’s how highly Vic is thought of. He was also one of Reg Kray’s trusted inner circle in the nick.

Vic is someone I see as an ideal fighter. There’s no shouting and roaring; he’s a gentleman. He would rather have a laugh with his trusted mates than go fighting all over the place but take a liberty and God help you!

A couple of years ago, the authorities tried to get Vic put away for life after a contract killing. Every day he went to court there were guns, vans and helicopters everywhere. I wrote to Vic and gave him my support while he was on remand. When he got a not guilty verdict (quite right too!) he phoned me and sent me a message of thanks for the support. I will always support Vic Dark. A man among men!

One man from America, who has been called the “hardest man in the world”, is Randy Couture, a mixed martial arts fighter who I’m sure we will hear a lot more of in the future.

The man who has been called the “King of the Gypsies” for many years is “Gypsy” Johnny Frankham. Johnny was not only a thrilling cobble-fighter, he was British light-heavyweight champion and had two blistering fights with Chris Finnegan at a packed Royal Albert Hall when the crowd and chairs became as much a part of the fight as Frankham and Finnegan. Johnny was usually asked to be “fair play man” in local fights because he had the respect of everyone and still does. As a ring fighter, he was extremely hard to hit, a bit like Kevin Paddock but, with respect to Kevin, of a lot higher calibre than the unlicensed fighters.

Another gypsy warrior who commands great respect is Les Stevens from Reading who was also a pro and took the great John Conteh the full distance, which took some doing in those days. John Conteh was one of the most underrated fighters this country has produced. I spent a couple of great fight nights in the company of these two legends. The real deals are always gentlemen; it’s the wannabes that are prats!

One ex bare-knuckle fighter stands out for various reasons; he was a decent fighter but far from the best and certainly not the worst. He was also a safe blower, that great occupation pioneered by men like George “Tatters” Chatham and wartime double agent Eddie Chapman, in the same era as the Irish charmer Peter Scott was stealing Sophia Loren’s jewels and breaking into any Mayfair pad that took his Raffles-influenced fancy. But this young
cobble-fighter
from Sunderland turned desperately to the cobbles and
gelignite
just to make ends meet. As he fought and felt the pain, there was no way he could have known that one day he would buy Darlington football club and clear their £5 million (US$7.5 million) plus debt in one swoop. He is worth £300 million (US$450 million), and he went from a four-year prison sentence to the
Sunday Times
Rich List by selling chipboard and worktops. He is, of course, George Reynolds.

My Newcastle friends do make me laugh. I love them to death and they are most funny when they are being serious. It doesn’t matter what you have achieved, if you are from Sunderland, which is ten miles away, they refuse to be impressed. I remember asking my late friend Harry Marsden and John “Mario” Cunningham, founders of the original “Geordie Mafia” and extremely dangerous men in their day, about George Reynolds. I said: “This guy was one of your own. He’s now worth £300 million and has a football club, yacht, helicopter and Christ knows what!”

They both fixed me with a stare that blurted out MISTAKE! MISTAKE!

Harry said: “Tell man, wayya mean one of oors? He’s a dirty fucking Mackem man!” It was a gem. Then he started on about them “calling us monkey-hangers” and other stuff that completely lost me. Harry wound himself up and started to punch things. Then “Mario”, a man who had once escaped from Durham Prison before everything was tightened up after the John McVicar escape, piped up … I never mentioned Sunderland again and I still don’t know what a “Mackem” is.

One of the most famous bare-knuckle fights took place between two Irishmen, Dan Rooney and Ernie McGinley, for the
championship
of Ireland. It turns up on every unlicensed and bare-knuckle video in circulation. There are masses of spectators all over the place, a swarm of people even sitting on their roofs for a better look. It was a bitter, brutal battle. The crowd actually became
uncontrollable
and the fight was a draw but it would appear Dan Rooney had the upper hand at that point.

Of the new breed, one of the best bare-knuckle fighters is an East End gypsy called Matt Attrell. A lot of people talk about Matt and it’s all good. It would seem if you want to be known as a man who has fought everyone on the cobbles now, you must beat Matt Attrell, who has never ducked anyone. Danny Woolard tells how he and Matt were put in hospital after a fight in a Chinese restaurant but they took twelve of the enemy to hospital with them; the foes were full of stitches and one had lost his eye!

Danny Woolard is another man who was more than tasty on the cobbles; he has a book out and it’s worth a read. In the Chinese restaurant encounter a meat cleaver was put through Woolard’s head and he carried on fighting. To the credit of the Chinese
restaurant,
they made no statements (it goes without saying that Woolard and Attrell didn’t). So many people have claimed to have been a close friend of Reg Kray in prison but Danny was, I know that for a fact, plus Reggie gave Danny Woolard a mention in his last book,
A Way of Life.

One gypsy cobble-fighter who I had the pleasure of training and preparing for the unlicensed ring was “Gypsy” Joe Smith from West London. Joe was a brutal and fear-free cobble-fighter but just needed to brush up on boxing ring craft. I taught Joe the value of working from behind a solid jab, cutting off the ring and footwork, as well as getting him into prime fitness. We had a full gym at our disposal, as I worked in one at the time, and we would sweat it out every day. Joe’s cousins Billy Smith and Jimmy Stockin also came along to a specialized boxercise circuit I set up and for some sparring. Sometimes I needed to calm them down as these boys loved nothing more than a claret-filled tear up. They were, and still are, extremely hard men. Joe, Jimmy and brother Wally Stockin were also extremely close, as I was, to Joey Pyle Sr and we would always catch up at parties. Myself and a few of the lads also did a fair bit of hair-raising debt-collecting for a very well known East End “face” and other bits and pieces.

With Joe, the first thing to sort out in training, as well as fitness, was controlling his aggression. He was used to the cobbles where fights only last about ten–twenty minutes tops and are often personal so hatred plays a large part. The boxing ring is not like that. You have to keep things under control and relax, not get wound up. You might start as first on the bill and end up last, while your opponent sits in traffic, but you must just let it ride. Getting angry is asking for defeat – why do you think Ali used to wind his opponents up so much?

At one of Joe’s early unlicensed fights, when he hadn’t mastered the mental side and was still thinking like a cobble-fighter, it all blew up in proper gangland fashion. It was like Eddie Richardson and Frankie Fraser at Mr Smith’s club all over again. Now, it seems funny. Actually, even then it seemed funny!

I was in Joe’s corner with his older brother Aaron and younger brother John. As will become clear, I will not give details of venues although I can say that this one took place near London. We were due to be second on the bill. A lot of preparation is needed on fight night; getting your man kitted out, hands bandaged up, keeping him warm on the pads and greasing him up around his eyes and face. Every time our fight slot changed, Joe had to be cooled down again, made to relax and brought back to normal thinking. Then we got a call via the promoter to say our opponent was in traffic, so we would be on fourth. Now, for some reason, nobody liked this guy we were supposed to be fighting. There were twelve fights on the bill so just how long were we going to be kept waiting was anybody’s guess.