Wild Thing (31 page)

The manager told us that the local gang had to be banned if the place was to survive, because they were terrorising everyone there. He said that the main problem lay with one individual in particular: a huge 6 ft 6 in. monster who would beat the shit out of anyone who as much as looked in his direction. He said that we would have a big problem with this one. A few nights later I was in the bar area and the assistant manager ran up to me in a complete panic, saying this monster man was at the door. I ran to the door immediately. As I got there, Lew was walking towards me. I told him that the big lump we were looking for was here. He said, ‘Yes, I know,’ and chuckled. As I looked over Lew’s shoulder, I saw the Terror of Greenford, as we’d named him, sprawled on the floor.

Dave Young said, ‘It’s simple. The big guy gave Lew a bit of lip, and a few seconds later he was out.’

When Lew got going, it would be almost impossible to stop him. I saw the other doormen at the Room at the Top trying to hold him back when one of the most feared gangsters in east London was trying to push some people around. This guy smashed a pint mug onto Lew’s head, but it didn’t even slow him down. Big Lewie continued to try and shake all the other doormen off of him, seemingly unaware his head had been split open. The other doormen were sure that these gangsters would have come back shooting if Lew had got his hands on this one, as he would have surely sent him to hospital for a long time. Lew always hated bullies and gave them their own medicine by the spadeful.

I have known some good promising heavyweights in my time. I’ve sparred with some of the greatest fighters in the world, such as Nigel Benn, and I have never seen anyone match Lew for speed and power. He also had natural technique. Being in Lew’s company while working in security or socialising in some dodgy area gave you a great feeling of safety. Not only would you feel you had this huge power by your side, but he gave you this immense confidence in yourself. Lew just knew he could handle anything, and that is how he made you feel. You would realise that this huge self-belief was a significant part of his power. You could see that when Mike Tyson was at his most fearsome. Fighters had lost the fight before they entered the ring, because they had no belief in themselves. Getting the right coaching and a few breaks could have taken Lew to the top. I now run a telecommunications company, and one of my best friends is Dave Hill, who owns a boxing brand called Ringside. Through him I have got to know Joe Calzaghe and other world champions. I have seen them fight up close. But I have no doubt whatsoever that Lew would have been a serious contender for a world-title belt if he’d had a few breaks in life. Where would Tyson have ended up without the legendary trainer Cus D’Amato?

I was with Lew when his wife left him with three kids. He had come to London to get his career on track. Just when he was getting well known and could have really made some serious impact on the fight scene, this bombshell was dropped on him. He went back to the north of England and brought the kids to London, where he raised them on his own. Lew had a dark side that, like a lot of people, came from drink. When he’d had a few too many, he could become unnecessarily aggressive. And with a force like Lew this was a very frightening experience, so you would need to keep your distance. Perhaps this was a result of his bad luck. I know it is a tragedy for Lew and British boxing that he never got just a little bit of luck. Whether he’d won or lost to one of the great heavyweights, he would have been exciting, thrilling and charismatic. As someone once said, ‘He could have been a contender.’

Lew is not like any other tough guy I have ever known or heard of. He is sharp, witty, funny and has a huge personality. Then he can change in the blink of an eye into some dark monster with enormous power, like a runaway freight train. If he ever does lose it when you’re near him, make sure you’re not in his way, and make sure that when he has passed, you start running in the opposite direction as fast as your trembling legs will carry you and don’t look back!

I first met Lew while he was working on the door of Lautrec’s in Dagenham. We instantly took to each other, and for a number of years I mistakenly referred to him as Scouse, as I’d always thought he came from Liverpool. I have met some hard and very dangerous men on my travels around the globe, but this guy Lew, having seen him in several fights, is without doubt the best.

On one occasion I saw two black guys in Lautrec’s fooling around. These guys would have made Mike Tyson in his prime look like a feeble midget; they were all muscle and brawn. Lew told them to behave, but they took no notice, so he walked back over to them and with two punches knocked both of them out. With the assistance of the other bouncers Lew dragged them both outside, and when I went to see if everything was OK, I saw that they had placed them still unconscious on top of each other in the sexual ‘69’ position. I was standing outside with Lew when the police arrived and demanded to know what had happened to the men. ‘I’ve no idea,’ Lew replied. ‘It looks as if they have been fighting, but it wasn’t in here because they are banned.’ The officers didn’t reply. They just dragged the men into their van one at a time before driving off.

I have heard plenty of women say they feel safe going into clubs knowing big Lewie is on the door, and there are not many that can command that much respect in London. Lew is no gangster and no villain; he is just an all-round, decent, no-nonsense fella who, if he had been born a cockney, would undoubtedly have been promoted by the guys with the right connections to have taken him to the top. That, sadly, is what it’s all about, particularly in the East End. It’s who you know, not what you know or can do!

A massive broad-shouldered man walked out of the lift at the Room at the Top nightclub and into my life. It was 1976, and I was the head doorman at the venue. Lew told me that he was looking for work. I was regularly approached by hopefuls thinking they could work the door, but this lad was different. Lew was heavily built, sharp and looked you straight in the eye. His aura screamed violence! Lew proved to be the ultimate bouncer, fearless of names and reputations. He has had guns pulled on him, he has been stabbed, sprayed with ammonia and hit with every type of weapon you care to mention, but he’s always remained the last man standing. A master of explosive controlled violence, Lew is unlike many doormen, who rely on drink or drugs for courage. What you see is what you get: a twentieth-century gladiator who came unknown from the north to become one of London’s most respected hard men.

I’m qualified to say all of that because I have been around hard men and the club scene all of my life. Born and raised in the East End, I saw the Krays, the Readings and any other well-respected family you care to name at work. The thing about the Krays and their ilk is that they always did their business with the backup of a gang. When I lived in my father-in-law’s pub, the Scots Arms in Wapping, the Kray gang used to take protection money from him. Most publicans in the area paid them a pension, as it was known, because it was the done thing back in those days. If the Krays protected your pub, they used to give you a small black-and-white photo of Charlie, Ron and Reg Kray shaking hands. This photo had to be put in a prominent position by the cash till so that anybody coming in the pub could see it. Customers would then know not to cause grief in the place, as it was a ‘Kray-protected boozer’.

A fella known as Scotch Jack Dickson would usually collect the money from our pub, but when they were making the film
Battle of Britain
down in Wapping, Ron and Reg used to come in. There’s a scene in the film which shows all of the old warehouses on fire. When they filmed that, there were loads of celebrities about, and Ron and Reg were in nearly every day hoping to bump into them. They would have all of their gang hanging about, and occasionally some fella they took exception to would get a clump. I have never liked the idea of gangs resolving issues against one man. That’s something Lew never wanted or had to do. He always went into situations alone.

In any nightclub you’ll get faces and their hangers-on taking liberties. They come into nightclubs without having to pay, because they know the owner, the manager or the door staff, but instead of acknowledging the hospitality they have been shown by offering the lads on the door a drink, they swan through without even saying good evening. If I told Lew that one of these disrespectful faces was in the club, it would be like showing a red rag to a bull. Lew would glare at them, bump into them and be rude all night in the hope they would say something to him. Few ever did, but occasionally we would end up having to carry one or two of the ones who did respond from the premises.

There is, of course, another side to Lew apart from his fighting ability. When my father, Jim Koster, sadly passed away, my mother, who was very ill, was brought from a hospital to attend the funeral in a wheelchair. I had not told Lew about the service because he was going through a terrible time of it himself, trying to raise three children after his wife had left him. There were only about 15 people at the church, and as one would expect, I was feeling really low. Midway through the proceedings I turned to look towards the back of the room for some reason, and there, standing alone, dressed in a black suit with tears streaming down his face, was big Lew. When the service had ended, Lew came back to the house, sat all of the mourners down, made them tea and sandwiches and went out of his way to make a very difficult day that little bit more bearable. His thoughtfulness that day meant so much to me, particularly as I knew he was enduring difficult times himself.

I was Lew’s manager when he fought Roy Shaw in Ilford. I had been involved with boxing for some time, providing up-and-coming boxers for shows that my old friend Frank Warren was promoting. The fight between Lew and Roy was so crooked I couldn’t believe it. When Roy was dishing out punishment, they let the round go on; when Lew was hammering Roy, they rang the bell. They just rang the bell whenever it suited their man. If that fight had lasted a week, they wouldn’t have let Lew win. These days nearly all of Roy’s fights are available on video, but despite there being two video cameras filming Lew’s fight from a stage behind the ring that night, the footage has never appeared. I have asked Joe Pyle Jnr if he could get me a video of the fight to prove it was a fix, but Joe refused to comment either way.

Brian Gerard, Peter Lee, Ray Smithers and I put up the money for Lew’s fight. Yet, when we arrived at the venue, Roy’s people hadn’t reserved our seats. They made it clear they didn’t want us watching the fight because they knew, before a punch had even been thrown, that the outcome might be deemed controversial and that we may demand repayment. Eventually we were allowed in but had to stand at the back of the club against a wall.

Let’s get this straight: I am not disrespecting Roy Shaw, Joe Pyle or any of the lads who were in Roy’s camp that night. All I can do is tell it as I saw it. I like Roy; he is a man with a lot of respect, especially when ladies are in his company. Boxing was how Roy was earning his money when he fought Lew, so I wouldn’t expect him to do anything different to what he did that night.

Nobody who was at the fight believes Lew lost. Saying he had blood all over his face and an eye hanging out of his head is ridiculous. Lew had no blood on his face whatsoever and only slight swelling around the eye. We were all naturally gutted, but I suppose life is made interesting by the fact we win some and lose others. I’ll never forget Brian Gerard phoning me the following morning and saying, ‘How do you feel now the sting’s gone out?’ I still laugh when I think about it now. We had both lost a lot of money backing Lew. I guess Brian was saying what’s done is done, wipe your mouth and move on. That’s what I would like to see my friend Lew do now. In his time Lew has been stabbed, shot at, squirted with ammonia, beaten with fists and iron bars, but only one thing has ever really hurt him, and that’s life. As his friend, I would like to hear him say one day that he had wiped his mouth, put the past behind him, life was now being good to him and his luck had changed.