There can't be too many people left who, in recent years, have not heard of Lenny McClean. Bare knuckle fighter; actor; and the latest in a growing list of old school ÔfacesÕ to become a celebrity.
Lenny has certainly lived a life rich enough to fill a decent sized volume with anecdotal entertainment. So without further to do IÕll lay down a few opinions on The GuvÕnor.
The book begins with some descriptions of the area of LennyÕs birth, Hoxton bordering on the East End, and some musings about how life was back then. As such the opening of the book is almost your generic description of the toughness of life in the East End of years gone by. While I donÕt want to denigrate any of their harshness of the life he was born into I feel I must comment that it was no worse than the conditions experienced by working class people in any other part of the country.
It tells a tale of a lad born into a family where there was never a lot of money around, and of how people had to use their wits to get by. This is shortly expanded upon to form the only part of the book I had any grumbles about: the reminiscing of some supposed halcyon period of crime, which itself is also part of the generic make up of virtually any East End crime writing. Allusions are made that Ôback thenÕ sure things were rough but only those that were involved got hurt. And that you could leave your front door unlocked. And you didnÕt shit on your own. And that criminals acted with some instinctive code of honour. I guess that even old school villains are prone to the same weakness that seems to hit us all eventually: looking back on the past with rose tinted spectacles.
Indeed back then an innocent man could get himself a decent kicking just through the bad luck of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. People did shit on their own, as at many points in the book Lenny tells how he had to administer a bit of a lesson to someone for this very same crime. And with a bit of retrospect perhaps the fact that people didnÕt have the electronic consumables (televisions, videos, games consoles etc), which are almost taken for granted today, meant leaving your door unlocked wasnÕt such a big deal, after all with nothing worth stealing there would be no point shitting on your own in that capacity. And as for the villainÕs code of conduct, well the struggle for power in the organised crime hierarchy back then was every bit as ruthlessly brutal then as it is now, and if an innocent person got caught up, or a punishment turned out to far outweigh a crimeÉ. Well these were sad incidents, but absorbed and accepted without too much of a mourning period.
Who knows when IÕm an old man some young pup may tell me to take off my rose tinted spectacles, and accept the times I grew up in as filthy and inhumane as the future will be to me as an old man.
But now thatÕs off my chest, letÕs carry on with a much more favourable review. So as already stated Lenny is born into a family where the purse strings are tight, but love and happiness seem to abound. Then his father is stricken with a fatal condition, which claims him all to quickly. This is something of a turning point in LennyÕs childhood. The mother remarries a man who turns out to be the archetypal evil stepfather, and so begins a regime of appalling child-abuse meted out by the stepfather to Lenny and his siblings (with the mother copping a fair few beatings herself. In retrospect this period of his life may have been a crucial catalyst for the man he was to become, with violence becoming such a natural part of his life but hey, IÕm no psychologist so weÕll leave those speculations alone.
So Lenny grows up with a huge love for his mum and a hatred for his stepfather. This is intermingled with tales of schoolboysÕ escapades gradually progressing from the harmless into ways for a young teenager to make some easy pocket money. These step further over the line of illegality, followed by the inevitable reprisals of approved school and other such place of detention, which change according to LennyÕs age and also nurture his use of violence as a survival tool and means of problem solving. Eventually he is scamming a living in various manners, meets his wife and, for her sake, tries to go straight. Realising he canÕt go straight due to a personal allergy with that kind of life we finally end up with Lenny in the carnation we have come to associate him with. Prize fighter, bouncer, minder and general fixit guy (anything where the fixing requires a lot of muscle and/or intimidation).
Now we are finally at the meat of the book, tales of LennyÕs fighting career, and good reading it makes too. However if you were hoping to get some training tips, pick up some techniques, or hear an in depth expose of the workings of the shadowy world of unlicensed boxing then you may be a little disappointed.
Beyond the odd bit of running, bag work, weights and sparring Lenny didnÕt really seem to do much training for his fights (if he did then it certainly didnÕt take up too much book space). One gets the impression that the man was just naturally big and strong. And as for technique, well LennyÕs technique seemed to be a combination of sucker punching, going psycho, and absorbing the odd blow to get his killer shot in. Not exactly the kind of stuff that will form the drills of a coherent fight training plan. No, Lenny seemed to be a natural whose main tactic was his state of mind: at various points in the book he talks about how he would go into the ring with the attitude that there was no way on earth that he could lose. If confidence is a valid technique then Lenny was a master, but confidence isnÕt something thatÕs easy to teach, let alone pick up from a book. And as a side note, to look at some of the photos in the book of Lenny, psyching himself up before a boutÉ. Well the guy just looked plain psycho scary. If he came into the ring looking at me the way he looked in those photos then the bout would be over before it started, and not in my favour.
There are numerous fight tales: many with gypsies in private car lots and fairs; some organised by criminal gangs as entertaining money and decision makers (including the Mafia episode). Sometimes things went sweet with a quick bout, collecting the money and back home. Sometimes things went a little differently with longer bouts that taxed Lenny, occasions when the losing parties were not so eager to hand over the money and persuasion would be called for, but that was one of LennyÕs specialities and makes for good reading.
Lenny always seemed to have a respect for his opponents. Not to extent of taking it easy on them. No sir. Some of the described beatings achieved increasing levels of brutality. Lenny always justified the brutality with the reasoning that if they had the chance they would have done it to him, and everybody knew the score.
The only time I recall there being a lack of respect was when he received a head butt in what was supposed to be a ÔstraightenerÕ. Well thatÕs just not playing by the rules, and the guy certainly received some punishment for his behaviour.
As to what a ÔstraightenerÕ is. Well there were two types of bouts: the ÔstraightenerÕ and Ôall inÕ. The former being fisticuffs, gloved or bare knuckles, and the latter you can figure out for yourself. Lenny was adept at both styles, and it was quite pleasing to read about after hearing denigration of the bare knuckle fighting scene, by some of the younger less informed fans of todays NHB scene, as not being reality based. As well as tales of his fights there are also tales of his minding and bouncing exploits. Needless to say Lenny handled these with his charming, hit Ôem hard diplomacy. As a result they are all just as exciting as the fight stories. Particularly amusing are his tales of being shot or stabbed, and making his own way to the hospital as a result of impatience at waiting for the ambulance.
The final comments I want to make about the contents of the book are the way the tales address or reflect the community Lenny was born and raised in. Basically there are a lot of household names from the worlds of boxing, entertainment and crime. It seems that almost everybody can name at least a handful of East End criminals. Now crime was just as big in virtually any other part of the country, but for some reason nobody really knows any of the others. Perhaps the East End mobs had better representation. Needless to say there are numerous tales involving all the famous ÔfacesÕ, whom Lenny seemed to know well.
Also included are a few famous characters from the boxing world. Has it always been the case that boxing, particularly promotion, is inseparable from the shady world of crime? My dad once said to me that it was because big money could be made out of boxing Ñ it was the easiest sport in which to predetermine the outcome. A theory I could never come up with a counter argument for.
The impression you get from all who come into contact with Lenny is the warmth, friendliness and desire to help from the man. Sure if you have crossed him youÕld better watch out, but otherwise you could find yourself in safe and charming company. A terrible enemy to have, but an even greater friend it would seem. By the end you almost do feel that you are a friend of his: rooting for him during the telling of his murder trial; and finally that sadness you feel when he is at last beaten, not by another person but, by cancer at the end of the book. Life has truly lost a great character.
On a closing note, the style of the book. On the whole it follows a chronological sequence, but there are deviations as if earlier (or latter) events had just occurred to the narrator and had to be told there and then. It is told in LennyÕs charming vernacular and reads like you are sat having a drink with the guy and heÕs just telling you loads of good stories one after the other. As the book was co written with Peter Gerrard (an accomplished crime writer and biographer in his own right), one can assume that is exactly how it was written: over a few drinks, Lenny just chatting, remembering and reminiscing with Peter recording it all to commit to paper. You can almost imagine yourself there listening. A great book and a fitting tribute to a man larger than life.
