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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781843587606 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Bonnier Books UK |
| Publication date: | 04/05/2012 |
| Pages: | 288 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.00(w) x 7.70(h) x 0.80(d) |
About the Author
Jimmy Cryans (Author) :
Read an Excerpt
Once Upon a Crime
I Grew Up in Britain's Hardest City, Where the Only Way to Survive was on Your Wits
By Jimmy Cryans
John Blake Publishing Ltd
Copyright © 2012 Jimmy CryansAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-85782-736-1
CHAPTER 1
Growing up in Glasgow in the 1950s and 1960s was an everyday adventure for me. There was always something happening and for the most part I had a happy childhood, even though right from as far back as I can remember I somehow felt different from all the other kids.
I was my mammie's boy right from the off and it stayed that way until she died in October 2008. She was my best pal and all the good things about me I got from her. Of course this begs the question 'Then where the fuck did all the bad things come from?' All I can do is tell you my story how I remember it.
I was born in August 1953 at 1296 Duke Street in Parkhead in the east end. My ma had all six of her children delivered in her own bed in her own house. Ma didn't like hospitals or doctors. When I made my entry I already had two big sisters, Sheena, the eldest and two years below her Olive, then aged eight. Ma's name was Sarah but was known to everyone as Sadie. My da's name was Hughie Cryans. The Cryans were a well-known family, originally from the Calton but had lived in Parkhead for years. Ma's family the Parks came from Bridgeton.
Ma and Hughie shared a bed recess in the front room/kitchen while I shared the big double bed in the back bedroom with my two older sisters. This was considered absolutely normal for the time and as I got older and went to visit pals I realised that we were considerably better off than most of them, but by any normal standards we were shit poor. The great thing about being a wean – a child – is that you just accept your lifestyle.
Even though I was struck down by polio at age two I have no bad memories. I was one of the lucky ones. Ma noticed very quickly that I was repeatedly falling over on my right side and rushed me to the doctor. Polio was confirmed and Ma's early intervention saved me from a life in a wheelchair. Not for the last time was she to come to my rescue.
I recall my time at Quarrybray nursery school in Parkhead with fondness. I joined my first school at age five, again in Parkhead called Elba Lane Infants. From the start I loved school: it was new and exciting and I had lots of new pals. I can still reel off their names: Bobby McCallum, Jamie O'Donnell, Ian Cameron ...
One day I arrived home from school bursting with excitement. 'Ma, can I get a pair of those big boots like wee Fitzy's got? Can I, Ma? Go on, please! They make loads of sparks when he slides alang the pavement.'
'No, you're not getting a pair of those parish boots, you'll give us all a showing up,' said Ma. Parish boots had metal soles that made big sparks and looked like boots I had seen soldiers wearing. Ma explained to me that they were part of a package of clothes given to the very poorest families and arranged by the local parish church. I was bitterly disappointed and went to bed that night wishing that we were really, really poor – just like Fitzy's family.
We lived at the top end of Duke Street and there were two main focus points for our entertainment. For me the most important was the Granada cinema where I got to know the big Hollywood stars. There were only two guys Glasgow men wanted to be: one was Jimmy Cagney and the other was Frank Sinatra and I think that tells you something about the psyche of the working-class Glasgow man.
The second centre of entertainment was the Palace Bar, which I was never allowed inside. Even Ma would not cross the threshold, but entertainment it certainly provided for me and the other dead-end kids, especially on Friday and Saturday nights. In those days pubs would call time at nine o'clock, by which time one of the local married women would have already entered the bar with sleeves rolled up. This would be swiftly followed by a screaming female voice that could have stripped paint at 20 yards. 'Right, you fuckin' useless wee shite – gies ma money and get yerself tae fuck!'
If we were really lucky the fight would spill out onto the pavement with the wife and her spouse trading punches. But the real highlight of the evening came for us at closing time. Sometimes trouble kicked off inside the bar and a group of men would spew out of the front doors. Best of all was when two men had decided to settle their differences in the time-honoured Glasgow fashion of a square-go: a jackets-off, face-to-face with no weapons involved and nobody else allowed to step in. Outside of these slim rules anything went: punching, kicking, gouging, head-butting (the famous Glasgow kiss) until one of the men would declare he had had enough or was beaten to an unconscious pulp. It may seem repulsive that this savagery could be described as entertainment but for us kids it was just like watching a John Wayne movie at the Granada next door.
I was growing up in a violent culture but that's the way life was and I never saw violence at home. I was loved by everyone and was a happy child. Though I always felt that there was something different, something missing, at this early time it wasn't something that troubled me.
CHAPTER 2It was 2 December 1958. When I came through from the bedroom I could see my ma was still in bed, which was a first. My sisters Sheena and Olive and my da were all up and dressed and I could sense there was something different. 'Do you want your breakfast?' asked Olive.
'Aye, I'll have a roll and toasted cheese,' I replied.
'There's nae cheese left,' said Olive.
'How no?' I said.
"Cos the new baby has eaten it,' came the reply.
I looked straight over at Ma still in bed, and for the first time noticed she had a small bundle cradled in the crook of her arm. 'Come and say hello to your new wee brother. His name is Hughie.'
I was on the bed beside Ma in a flash and looked down into the face of my new brother. He looked just like one of the dolls I had seen some of the lassies playiing with and I thought he was brilliant. There was a bond forged that day and it has lasted all our lives. We are totally different characters but just seem to fit each other perfectly.
In 1959 I was almost six years old and I loved going to school. My family didn't have a television and our time was spent playing on the streets. I had discovered football and that I had a talent for it. We only lived about a five-minute walk from Celtic football club. I became a supporter not because they were my local team – this was Glasgow and the team you supported had nothing to do with locality but everything to do with what school or church you attended. There were lots of boys who lived in the same tenement as me who supported the city's Protestant team, Rangers, whose ground was on the south side of the city.
My da was a tar man: he built new roads and worked all over the country and this would sometimes keep him away for weeks at a time. To this day if ever I smell new tarmac being laid I think of him. He was about 5ft 5in and built like a bull. He had enormous shoulders and forearms but was a very gentle man. He loved children of every description and I know for a fact that he loved my ma. The problem was that he would drink until he was literally legless. Ma didn't take a drink except maybe one to toast the New Year and I never saw her even slightly merry because of alcohol. This led to friction and as the years passed by the arguments would become louder and more frequent. I never saw Hughie hit Ma but he would punch doors and walls, and I mean punch holes in them.
I once saw him fighting with two men one Friday night on the pavement outside the Straw House pub at Parkhead Cross and it is a sight I will never forget. What I did not know was that Hughie Cryans had a fearsome reputation throughout the east end as a fighting man and was not someone you crossed lightly. Three guys had entered the pub specifically to challenge Hughie, younger tough guys trying to make a name by beating the main man. Well, by the time I came upon the scene on the pavement one of the three young guns was already unconscious inside the pub. Outside Hughie laid into the other two with a ferocity that took my breath away. This was a side to Da I had never seen before. There was quite a crowd gathered around but nobody said a word. When it was over Hughie calmly walked back into the pub to continue his evening's drinking.
Many years later I asked him about that night and why he had given them such a severe beating. 'Look, son,' he said. 'It was nae enough just to beat them, I had to make sure they wouldn't come back. I had to kick the fight right out of them.' Then he said a curious thing: 'They were lucky.' I asked him what he meant but all he said was, 'Never mind.'
Ma was a seamstress and was a real wizard with a sewing machine. I was never without new, made-to-measure trousers, but she could also turn her hand to wedding dresses, jackets, skirts, blouses and curtains. Ma was a fine-looking woman, quite beautiful with raven-black hair and classic features. She was petite, about 5ft 2in and she had the heart of a lion. She would always make time for you no matter how busy she was. Right from the very beginning she was my soul-mate and not a day goes by when I do not think of her.
Sheena and Olive were always there for me too and I only have fond memories of us. Both of them attended the most prestigious Catholic school for girls in Glasgow, Charlotte Street, located in the east end. It was staffed by nuns and had a very strict regime but a high standard of education and was the stepping stone that led to university. Sheena was a bit of a scatterbrain, always laughing and doing daft things. Olive was much more practical and showed a serious side to the world to combat her natural shyness. I was never in any doubt about how much the two of them loved me and there is also no doubt that I did at times take advantage of this, but they were wonderful sisters. We were a very close and loving family and that still remains the case.
I found school fairly easy and discovered early on that I had the ability to absorb and retain a lot of information. The down side to this was that I tended not to push myself as hard as I should have done. I was usually able to be in the top six with the minimum of effort and I look back on those years with regret.
At seven it was time for me to go to St Michael's primary, located just across the road from me along near the end of Salamanca Street and adjoining St Michael's Roman Catholic church. It was a really old school built in the middle of the 19th century but I was only to spend a few short months there before we all went to the brand new building. It was a strange experience to be surrounded by everything that shiny and new. The year was 1960 and Glasgow, just like every other major British city, was still trying to get back to some kind of normality after WWII.
Saturdays were always my favourite days. I would meet up with all my pals and we would make for the Granada picture house. There would sometimes be as many as a dozen of us and we would always try to commandeer the back row of the stalls. It was best when there was a big Hollywood blockbuster, during which we could act out the scenes along with the action on the big screen. Of course, this did not endear us to the other patrons and most especially to the usher. He was a real weasel of a guy who seemed to derive great satisfaction from what he seemed to believe was a position of authority. Whenever we were at our most boisterous he would stand at the end of our row of seats flashing his torch into our faces and shouting, 'Right, ya wee rats – I know what yous are up tae and the lot of yous are for it.'
He would be answered by calls of, 'Fuck off ya pervert! We're going tae tell the manager you are trying to touch us up.' This would send him almost completely oover the edge and he would bejumping up and down and waving his arms about.
'Ya fuckin' bastards! I'll kill the fucking lot of you. I'll find out where you live and I'll be round at yer doors!'
On some occasions the showing would descend into running battles in the aisles with groups of boys from other streets who were our rivals, which would result in a few bloody noses and the occasional black eye. I would always be right in the thick of it and discovered I had a talent for fighting even though I was easily the smallest of our group. I do not recall ever being frightened and was never intimidated by boys who were older or bigger than me. This led to me being the unofficial leader of our little group and I would be the one to come up with ideas about what our next adventure would be.
CHAPTER 3You may wonder why I refer to Da by his given name Hughie. Both my big sisters referred to my da as Hughie and me simply followed suit. What I did not know was that Hughie wasn't my sisters' father and that my ma had been divorced before I came on the scene. I believe that this was about the time that I started to understand why I had always felt different and out of place.
When I was about eight we moved from Duke Street to Malcolm Street, just off Springfield Road. It was still a room and kitchen but we had more space with the rooms being a lot bigger, although I still shared a bed with my sisters. One day Sheena and Olive were excited and I could hear them talking about how they couldn't wait to see their da who was coming to visit. To my mind this meant that Da was coming to visit and I grew excited too. I also heard some talk of America and that he would be driving a big red American car.
I rushed from the house to tell all my pals that my da was coming from America and would be driving a big red American car, just like a movie star. This was a really big deal for all of us, as this was a time when none of us even knew anyone who had a car. When the big, shiny car drove into the street it was pink – even better! One of my pals said 'Your da must be rich, Jim.'
Sheena and Olive ran forward and this man who I had never seen said, 'Right, girls, jump in.'
I can remember hearing Olive saying, 'What about our Jim?' I was standing right next to the driver's door looking up at this man I thought was my da. He didn't even look at me and I heard him say, 'Just get in, never mind him,' and they drove away. For the first time in my life I experienced the feeling of humiliation.
My pals were asking, 'How did he no' take you, Jim?'
All I could think of to say was, 'He's coming back for me later,' but inside I was crushed and I knew that life was never going to be the same. My childhood was over for me that day and I think that was when I lost my innocence. This episode was never mentioned in my family until quite recently. Olive told me how both she and Sheena had been devastated by that day's events and had cried and wanted their dad to take them home. They must have seen in my eyes what this had done to me. I do not think it is a coincidence that you can almost date exactly the change in my behaviour to this period.
I remember with absolute clarity the first thing I ever stole. It wasn't long after the incident with American Dad and it happened in the large Co-Op department store in Westmuir Street. Me and a few pals were upstairs in the toy department looking at all the new toys we could only wish we had. I noticed some board games in their boxes on display and opened one to look inside. Straight away a pair of dice caught my eye: one was coloured blue and the other red. Without even thinking about it they were in my hand and into my pocket. I had never done anything like this before and the feeling of fear, elation and excitement was like a physical force that I could almost reach out and touch. None of my pals had seen what I had done and it was only once we were out of the store that I made them aware of my crime. Their reaction was one of wonder and awe.
'How did you get them Jim?'
'Were you no' scared?'
I have to say truthfully that I basked in their admiration and this was probably the beginning of my lifelong search to find a way to fill the emptiness I sometimes felt inside. I say sometimes, but truth be told it was always there. If I kept myself busy enough I was not aware of it so much.
Stealing became a way of life for me and hardly a day would pass without me stealing something. Whether consciously or not, I never stole anything from either my own home or anyone else's. As time went on I became more ambitious and started to break into secure premises, scrap yards, pubs and local shops. Of course I was never able to take any of my ill- gotten gains home, the only exception to this coming after I had visited the local library. I have always loved books and it wasn't enough for me to read and return them, oh, no. I wanted to own them, to keep them. Even if Ma discovered them I would say in truth, 'They are library books.'
This cunning plan worked very well until the day Ma looked under my bed and discovered more than 80 books! She went ballistic and told me in no uncertain terms to get them back or she would escort me there herself. Maybe that is what she should have done because those books never saw the inside of that library again. I put them into various bags and dumped them on some waste ground a few streets away, which was really hard, but there was no way I was going anywhere near that library.
I was also now coming to the attention of the teachers at school for the wrong reasons. Now I was acting the fool in class and being cheeky. I was never afraid, which pretty much left the teachers with no alternative but to inflict corporal punishment. It must have been very frustrating for the teachers having me as a pupil because I obviously had the ability to do really well and showed great potential.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Once Upon a Crime by Jimmy Cryans. Copyright © 2012 Jimmy Cryans. Excerpted by permission of John Blake Publishing Ltd.
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