Chapter 15

August Bank Holiday 1966.

Tom had by now also passed his motorcycle test, so had treated himself to a lovely black and silver, B.S.A. Rocket Gold Star, one of the fastest and most sought after bikes of this era. Indeed, Mazza had only just purchased this bike and was at first reluctant to part with it, but Danny finally persuaded his friend to let Tom buy it on credit.

The three lads, Sean, Danny and Tom were one day debating where they might go for the Bank holiday. Blackpool was where Tom and Danny fancied but later that day, they found the choice had already been made for them, as the gang from the Kavern club, Rabbi, Baily, Max and all the rest announced that a camp site just outside of Rhyl was to be the club’s chosen destination.

That morning the sun shone in a perfect blue sky with not a cloud in sight as the boys from the Kavern set off for Rhyl. They had made this trip so many times that no map was needed - Whitchurch, Wrexham, Ruthin, St Asaph, Rhyl, they had ridden this route so often it was engraved in their mind.

The scenery on the route through North Wales to Rhyl, though, was truly stunning, not that too many took this in as the ride there was as always treated as a kind of race, with the first bike to arrive there being the cock of the walk. Tom’s Rocket Goldie was well suited to this run, its road holding was only slightly bettered by a Norton 650ss. Danny let Tom go on ahead knowing he would be trying to be the first one there. His own Tiger 100 was no slow coach but it was not in the same class as the 650cc Bonnies or the Rocket Goldies.

Sean rode along with Tom saying he could not be bothered with racing, but Danny knew the real reason was that he knew that his bike fast as it was, could not hope to live with a Rocket Goldie or a Bonnie.

On arriving at the sea front, they saw around ten bikes were already lined up there. Danny was pleased to see his cousin Tom sat on his bike safe and sound, he walked over just as Tom was lighting up a cigarette. “Did you win then, our kid?” he asked.

Tom grinned and pointed to Carl Lyon’s white and orange Triumph Bonnie. “No son, he beat me, but only just, I was in the lead when we hit the sea front, but the acceleration on that thing of his is unreal, so he won.”

Danny was sad for Tom but knew he had taken on one of the fastest bikes around, with Carl also having the reputation as being one of the fastest riders in the gang.

Soon they had the tent pitched and all their stuff stowed away, so they made their way to the ‘Schooner,’ which was the pub where all the Rockers gathered. On the way they saw some of the late arrivals riding in, Fat Tony on his old B.S.A side car outfit together with Henry Owl on his little Honda 125. All shouting greetings to each other like warriors of old meeting up before some great battle.

It was a warm night so some of the lads sat outside the pub eyeing up the girls as they walked by. Some Mod birds walked past with the usual comments being made.

One Mod bird took exception to some comment that Maggie Brown made, so a fight started.

All the boys laughed encouraging them in what to do, when suddenly a white van pulled up the back doors of which burst open as around a dozen Mods jumped out all carrying blades or iron bars.

Tom pointed to the pub where they saw the landlord, on seeing this, had now locked the doors, not that any of the Rockers inside seeing all these weapons on display, made much effort to come to the boys’ aid outside. Tom and Danny choosing survival over valour made a dive under some old pickup truck that was standing nearby, as four Mods, one waving a bloody great bayonet came after them. This same bayonet now came through the air, to land almost by Danny’s head. Both now thought this was the end, when suddenly they heard someone shout out, “The Mods have fucking stabbed Reggie.’”

After which the sound of a police siren had never sounded so good. Once the two of them had emerged from under the pickup truck they saw their friend Reggie Turner had indeed been stabbed. The ambulance soon arrived before taking him off to hospital.

After the local police had asked them all some questions, they left the scene.

After this all the Rockers once more continued with their drinking.

Some of the boys from inside the pub now moaned about not being able to come outside to help, but Sean who during the fight had been hit over the head with a coal hammer called them cowards. Seeing what a temper he was in, not one of them chose to argue with him.

The holiday had by now somehow been spoiled by the incident, so much that during that night in their tent both Danny and Tom admitted that they had both been scared shitless. For sure they had had a run in with the Mods before, but not so that someone had been stabbed and might die.

Danny and Tom shared a small ridge tent which was almost new and rain proof, while some of their friends had what looked like little more than a large sheet draped over a pole to keep the weather out. One of the guys named Bazza had come up with what he thought was a great idea, when the previous week he had seen that a firm in Walsall named Hawley’s who made tents sometimes had them on display on their front lawn. So one dark night Bazza together with an accomplice climbed Hawley’s fence, and shall we say? - borrowed the largest tent they had there on display.

A week later in Rhyl after setting this tent proudly up on the camp site they started taking the piss out of some less fortunate guys, who had only a tattered array of tents. The two of them later settled down for the night in their large new tent, but that night the sky turned black as a terrible thunderstorm raged across the North Wales coast. The wind, as it blew in off the Irish sea, sent sheets of rain to put all but the best tents to the test.

Bazza and his companion emerged from their tent the following morning to a bright sunny day with the only evidence of the previous night’s storm being a few Mackerel clouds, each puff tinged with crimson. Both boys though now looked as if they had just emerged from the Irish sea rather than their new tent. It seems that when Hawley’s put the tents out on show they do not bother at that point to wax proof them, so every rain drop that fell on their tent during the storm landed on Bazza and his friend saturating their sleeping bags and all their clothes. They were after this, shall we say? - in a very reserved mood for the rest of the holiday.

Danny and Tom both agreed that in the future they wanted more out of life than just hanging around with a biker gang. Also they both admitted that some of Mazza’s criminal activities had now began to worry them. Sean who they knew was heavily involved in these did not seem to care, but they did not wish to end up in prison or worse. The two of them came home with mixed feelings about the whole scene that they had become a part of.

Tom confessed to his cousin that the idea of becoming a Mod sometimes appealed to him as the Mod birds he pointed out were very dishy. Danny agreed about the girls but found the thought of becoming a Mod was going one step too far for him to ever consider.

Autumn now came and life remained much the same. Mazza started more new scams, with Sean now becoming in this part of the business, his main man. The business moved yet again in a new direction. This time it involved not breaking into fruit machines but obtaining them before renting them out, by placing them in local Working Men’s clubs and the like. The only problem here was getting some of the club’s committees to agree to this. The money made from renting out these machines was enormous. The usual set up was for the machine provider to take twenty per cent of the take, while they would maintain the machines then change them every two months to give a new incentive to the punters. Try as he may, Mazza was having no luck in persuading some of the local Labour clubs to take up his offer. This was despite him already providing door staff on weekends to many of the same clubs.

The solution to this problem suddenly came from an unusual source. Sean was at this time seeing a young girl named Jean who worked for a local bookie named Bill Hedge. This same bookie happened to be a local Labour Party councillor. Mazza learned from Jean that this same bookie was now having trouble with some competitor from Birmingham who was intent on moving in on his area of operations.

After making some enquiries about this rival bookie from Birmingham, Mazza now wasted no time in setting up a meeting with Bill Hedge, offering to help in finding him a quick solution to his problem in exchange for him helping in obtaining access for his fruit machines into the clubs.

Mazza’s solution was for them to meet in person with the Birmingham bookie. For this meeting Mazza wore a smart light weight suit from a bespoke tailor that had set him back over one hundred pounds. This he thought would impress Ricky Evans, him being the guy who was encroaching on Bill Hedge’s area.

They on his instigation agreed to meet in the smoke room of a pub on the outskirts of Birmingham called ‘The Old Horns’. Once inside there was no mistaking which of the guys sat there was Ricky Evans. He wore a suit that made Mazza’s £100 job look like he had obtained it from the Salvation Army.

He was only a small guy around thirty years old but the look on his face told them that he was no fool to be taken lightly. On each side of him sat two of his bodyguards. One of them looked as if he could have been Sonny Liston, the world heavyweight boxing champion’s, twin brother.

Danny looked across at Sean who in turn raised his eyebrows as if to say ‘Are we in for some trouble here or not?’

Ricky Evans did not acknowledge their presence in the room for several minutes. Then after he had finished reading his newspaper, he folded this and placed it on the table, before finally looking up at Mazza and asking, “So, what I ask myself, have I done to warrant a personal visit from Mr Ray Mazzon?”

Looking on as this scene was played out, Danny’s mouth was as dry as the bottom of a bird cage, as he tried to swallow but nothing seemed to happen. Mazza, though, seemed anything but intimidated as uninvited he sat down facing Ricky, before ordering Danny to get drinks for them all, adding that he could not talk business whilst dying of thirst.

Ricky brushed an invisible speck of dust off his suit and looking directly at Mazza asked,

“And what business would I do with you, my friend? From what I gather you sell used motorcycles plus you supply bodies on the door of clubs. So, I fail to see what you have to offer that would interest me.”

He then pointed around the bar at several guys who all looked menacingly at Mazza’s little band of brothers. “As you can see, I have plenty of hired muscle already at my disposal.”

Mazza still looking as if he did not have a care in the world answered with a grin.

“No, I fear we are not on the same wavelength my friend, so if you allow me, I will let my young friend Danny here, who is far more eloquent with words than I am, to explain our, shall we say? dilemma.”

Danny now taking his lead from Mazza’s confident appraisal of him, opened his briefcase before taking out several official looking papers. After placing some unneeded spectacles on to his nose, he looked at a now somewhat perplexed Ricky before he asked, “Do you Mr Evans, know or are familiar with a young lady, by the name of Miss Ruth Barlow?”

Ricky Evans now for the first time looked a little unsettled, as he looked around the room then loosened the top button of his shirt before he somewhat cagily mumbled, “Well, yes, I do know a young lady of that name. Might I, though, add what the fuck has this got to do with you three pricks?”

Danny now paused and looking straight into Ricky’s eyes he continued, “Did you by any chance know that her birth date is the second of May 1954, that will, if that is my maths are correct, make this young lady fourteen years old. The law of this country as you no doubt may already know, states that it is an offence to engage in sexual intercourse with a minor of this age, which if caught is usually followed by the offender being given a custodian sentence. If, that is, one is proved to have indeed fucked a young girl of such a tender age, no matter how enjoyable I do not doubt that the experience would be?”

For quite some time now silence prevailed throughout the room as Ricky once more looked around at his cronies, who in turn never uttered a word. His face became the colour of an over ripe tomato, when suddenly his temper like a volcano erupting, burst forth in a torrent of expletives, before finally he turned his eyes on Mazza and his friends. “What the fuck is your game you, black country prick? You do realise that I can have you tied up, together with your two twats here and have you all floating in the cut before today is out.”

Danny despite Ricky’s outburst, once more continued as spokesperson for the gang of three. “Mr Evans can I please ask you to calm down, as I feel that you have grasped the wrong end of the stick, so to speak. Mr Mazzon here has only brought this very delicate matter to your attention to save you from, shall we say? The embarrassment of this all becoming public knowledge.”

This did indeed seem to calm Ricky down a little as he picked up his glass of scotch, upended it in one, before calling to the barman to replenish it. Once the replenished glass was in his hand, he uttered one solitary word, “Explain!”

Mazza now feeling on somewhat safer ground so to speak, nodded for Danny to continue.

Who after taking another deep breath did. “Having established Mr Evans that you have indeed had intercourse with the young Miss Barlow, I must now ask, do you know who her father is?”

Ricky now once more looked astonished to even be asked such a question. “No, and might I also add, that I do not fucking care.”

Danny now removed his spectacles then wiped them on a tissue before once more continuing, “Well, I might suggest that you should care Mr Evans, because her father is no other than the Very Right Reverend, Tobias Barlow, who I might point out is a very good friend of no other than the Chief Constable of Staffordshire. Who might I also add is not at this present time aware that you have been taking advantage of his young innocent daughter?”

Once more Ricky looked astonished as he asked, “Young and innocent? Fuck off, she has been meeting me here in this very pub for the last year. In fact, this is where I first met her.”

Danny now put on a pained face before asking, “Your wife Mr Evans, I take it she does not know of your, shall we say little exploits?”

Ricky now looked at Danny as if he was an imbecile. “What do you think, you brainless twat, that I go home and recall all the details to her?”

Danny now replaced his spectacles before looking at Ricky. “I think Mr Evans that maybe a quote from the Bible, now might best sum up your dilemma.”

Numbers. Chapter 32. Verse 23. ‘Be sure that your sins will find you out.’

Ricky at this point looked at Danny as if he was not sure if he was the Devil or an Angel of the Lord that had suddenly descended upon him.

Mazza seized the opportunity to take over the proceedings as after drinking his own glass of Scotch, he ventured, “All this can be brushed aside in an instant, like so much dust, indeed here and now we can make all of these problems disappear.”

Ricky Evans might have been in a tight spot, but he was no fool, so he knew that there would be a price to pay before this was about to happen. So, after finally taking his eyes off Danny he asked the million-dollar question, “Mr Mazzon, can I just ask one question, what is in this for you, too, as you say make it all go away. Is it money or some favour, or what?”

Mazza smiled knowing that at last he had him on the hook and asked, “Do you by any chance know, shall we say competitor of yours, a Mr Bill Hedge?”

Rick’s blue eyes narrowed as once more a puzzled look crossed his face. “Bill Hedge, sure I know him, but what in God’s name has he got to do with all this?”

Mazza moved on with renewed confidence. “You, I understand, but do please feel free to correct me if I am wrong, are about to expand your, shall we say? little Empire into Bill Hedge’s area of operation. And he or, should I say, we who are representing him would like you to think again about moving your operations into this said area. And that is all we ask. You can expand anywhere you like, but just not in the Walsall and Bloxwich areas.”

Ricky rubbed his chin as he contemplated this suggestion. “So, if I agree to do this, I can then, I take it, be sure that you will do whatever it is you intend to do, so that this Vicar and more importantly the Law do not come after me. Because I am not seeing Miss Barlow anymore and have not done so for some time.”

Mazza had a smile on his face. “Correct in one, Rick - you do not mind me calling you Rick do you? - as I feel we are now all friends singing from the same hymn sheet so to speak.”

Rick stood up then, holding out his hand, to shake Mazza’s, and commented. “No, I think that is possibly going one step to far to say that we are friends.”

On the way to give Bill Hedge the good news, Mazza congratulated Danny on his performance as his legal representative. This once more pleased Danny, to be given a compliment. Sean, though, made his usual snide comment by saying that for a while Danny reminded him of cross between a vicar or Ironside the T.V. lawyer minus his wheelchair.

Sean asked Mazza how he planned to stop this Vicar bloke from going to the police about his underage daughter having sex with Ricky Evans.

Mazza with a grin informed him that he would be doing nothing, as he had lied to Ricky Evans about her birth date. She was in fact seventeen years old, and her father was not even a Vicar, but only a cleaner at St John’s church.

After Mazza’s being able to do him this favour, Bill Hedge was true to his word and before long Mazza had his fruit machines in all the Labour Clubs in the area.