Enforcer (24 page)

Bernie just laughed. ‘I’ll remember never to go skiing with ya.’ Then he changed the subject. ‘Did you hear about Kid and Davo last week?’

‘What about ’em?’

‘The three of us were up the Cross and we picked up this sheila, a real cute little blonde. She had a flat in Victoria Street so the three of us went back there. Talk about kinky, mate. She had us tie her up and Kid was right up her and at the same time she was giving Davo a head job. I was just standing back watching.’

‘You mean waiting yer turn?’

‘You’re not wrong. She was a real goer. Best fuck I’ve had in a long time. We’re arranging nine or ten of us to go up to her place next week. You wanna come?’

‘Nah, I’m not interested. I’m happy with the one I’ve got.’

‘Oh well, your misfortune.’

With that we walked out the front and Bernie showed me the new set of pipes he’d put on his bike. He started her up.

‘Yeah, she sounds good,’ I said.

‘Anyway, I’ve gotta head off. I’ve got some tennis lessons to give.’

‘It’s hard to imagine a bloke who gives tennis lessons riding with an outlaw club,’ I said.

‘I don’t tell anyone. I always rock up to the tennis courts in my car.’

‘Well now, wouldn’t the brothers like to hear this.’

‘What?’

‘You’re ashamed to rock up at your place of work with your colours.’

‘Come on, Ceese, you know what it’s like over the north shore. If I was to rock up and they knew I belonged to the Bandits I’d never have any clients.’

‘Well what’d you do when you were a Loner?’

‘Same thing. Turn up in the car. No one over in the tennis club knows I’m in a bike club.’

‘Well then I’d get a new job, ’cos if it was me I’d never work anywhere where I couldn’t show me colours.’

S
OON AFTER
Bernie’s visit, I got a call from my brother Shadow. He wanted me to come out to his place so I got on the bike and cruised over. Gloves was there in his training gear.

‘I got you to come out so you could watch me and Gloves spar,’ Shadow said. ‘We’ve been doing it for weeks now on the quiet. You’re the first one we’ve told.’

Since his brother Knuckles had been wiped out in the accident, Gloves had taken it upon himself to live up to the family’s boxing potential; he was being trained by Kid for his big comeback fight. The war hadn’t worried Gloves. He just took it in his stride and kept on training.

Shadow had the back of his place done up with heavy bags, a speed ball and weights. It was a great place for him to work out. So I watched Shadow and Gloves get into it, and even though Gloves was the professional, Shadow gave as good as he got. They sparred eight three-minute rounds, then had a break and got onto some more sparring.

‘Shadow should take up boxing,’ Gloves said to me afterwards. ‘He’s as good as any bloke I’ve fought.’ Gloves had fought a lot of good boxers, too: the French champion, and a lot of amateur fighters before he turned professional. He’d won all his professional bouts.

Gloves’s big comeback fight was scheduled for Friday night, 31 August 1984 – the day of my little fella Daniel’s fourth birthday.

Everyone in the club was excited about going to watch it at the Marrickville RSL club. At the next club meeting, we all confirmed that we’d be there. Snoddy was the only one who couldn’t make it. He was going pig shooting at Griffith, where he was going to be sussing out some blokes who were setting up a Bandidos chapter down there. But he said he’d be back by the Saturday night.

I asked all the fellas if they were still coming to Daniel’s party on the Sunday. I’d brought it up at the meeting two weeks earlier. We figured that since Gloves’s fight was on the Friday, we’d leave the Saturday to recover and have the party on the Sunday – Father’s Day. Donna had arranged with the old ladies to get all the food together.

The brothers all said they’d be there. Then Mouth and Bongo Snake mentioned a swap meet out at a pub in Milperra called the Viking Tavern. They said it’d be a good spot for us to go for a ride while the sheilas were getting the party ready.

‘Me and Snoddy had already thought about going for a ride out to the Caringbah Inn,’ I said.

Lance stood up. ‘I reckon the Viking Tavern would be the go.’

‘That’s because it’s close to your place,’ I said. ‘And you just wanna buy some parts.’

‘What’s wrong with that?’ he asked.

‘Nothin’. I just reckon the Caringbah Inn would be a better ride. More people’d see us and they’ve got some good bands on of a Sunday.’

Mouth and Bongo Snake carried on something fierce about this swap meet and how it was going to be the best thing round.

‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘but if we’re meeting at Lance’s, that’s a ride of about three K. So where’s the ride?’

‘Oh, but, you know, it’ll be great.’

‘What bands are on?’ I asked.

‘Oh, there’ll be bands there.’

‘Who?’

They couldn’t name any, but they just pushed and pushed to go to this thing. Later, I’d look back and wonder about them and why they wanted to go so badly. But anyway, the club took a vote and the majority wanted to go to the Viking Tavern. So that was the plan.

F
riday night came and just about the whole club was at the Marrickville RSL club to watch Glovesy. Nearly everybody had rocked up in cars because we weren’t sure we’d get in wearing colours, and everyone wanted to see the fight. When Gloves’s bout came up, he smashed the state champion and won the prize for the best fight of the night, so we all went back to the clubhouse and partied on. Glovesy was yahooing around and sparring. ‘I’m gunna be champion of the world.’

The next night was club night. We were there with the old ladies and it was still all about how good Gloves had been, everyone congratulating him. We went for a ride to the Duke of Edinburgh at Pyrmont, had a few drinks in there, went for a run through the Cross to show off the colours, then headed back to the clubhouse. It was all good fun. Jock and his guerilla war was still on our minds, but if they wanted to attack us on a night when we were all together, that was going to be their problem.

I went home at one am, as per my arrangement with Shadow, who looked after the club till morning.

Next day, Father’s Day, dawned like it was going to be a great one. After doing the usual family thing, about thirteen or fourteen of the brothers turned up at my place. All the old ladies were already there helping Donna fix things up for Daniel’s party: blowing up balloons, putting lollies out for the kids, making salads. The tables were set up out the back. We got a spit going with a lamb on it, and had a pile of snags and chops ready to go on the barbie.

Unbeknown to the club, I’d bought one of the first Harley-Davidson Softails to come into the country. And I’d had the motor rebuilt to eighty-eight cubes by a mate of mine called Witch. I’d had Mac the Brush repaint it in a metallic black with a gold fleck, with red and yellow flames all over the tank and the guards. He’d done an immaculate job. While the brothers were in talking to their old ladies I went out to the garage; I thought I’d start her up and they’d all come running out when they heard the roar and get the surprise of their lives. So I pulled the cover off and softly tried kicking her over. Nothing happened. I tried again and again, kicking harder each time until after fifteen minutes I gave up. This is fuckin’ great, I thought. This was going to be my big showpiece for the day. I didn’t have time to fuck around with it all day, or worse, ask someone to try and fix it. I decided I’d fix her later then ride it over to the next meeting and surprise everyone then. As it turned out, I’d never sit on that bike again.

I rolled the Wide Glide out instead, went in and called everyone together. We told the old ladies we were going, got on our bikes and rode away from all the kids’ lollies and balloons. There were no special farewells. We were only going to be gone for a couple of hours then be back for the party. As we pulled away we could see the old ladies and the kids – from babies up to eight- or nine-year-olds – out in the backyard, clearly visible from Frederick Street, one of the busiest roads in Sydney’s innerwest. It was obvious we weren’t expecting trouble otherwise we’d never have left them there.

The next time they’d see us would be on the news.

W
E GOT
to Lance’s place at Pringle Street, Condell Park, and saw that Snoddy’s Falcon station wagon was there. He’d been meant to return on the Saturday from his week of hunting and getting to know the blokes in Griffith. But they’d thrown him a party and he got sozzled so he ended up staying an extra night and then driving his station wagon the 550 kilometres from Griffith that morning straight to Lance’s to meet us.

We went round the back of Lance’s and put the bikes in his backyard where all the other brothers were. Lance had one of the biggest backyards you’ve ever seen. I walked down towards his garage where Junior was working on his bike, then headed over to Snoddy. ‘I’m gunna go for a ride down the tavern and make sure there’s no Comos down there,’ I said.

‘No need, Caesar,’ he said. ‘I’ve already sent Sleazy and Maverick.’

‘How long ago?’

‘About two hours.’

‘Yeah, but anyone could have turned up in that time. Maverick and Sleazy wouldn’t know what they were doin’ anyway.’

‘Look, we’ll just get the bikes going and we’ll head down there now. They won’t turn up. In all the years I rode with Jock he’s never gone to a bike show. He’s too afraid someone might get friendly with another club.’

Shadow came over. ‘What’s going on?’

‘I want to go down the tavern and make sure there’s no Comos there,’ I said. ‘If there is, we’ll all ride over to the Caringbah Inn instead. I don’t wanna get into a blue in public.’

‘Fuck it,’ Shadow said. ‘If they’re there we’ll just give ’em a floggin’.’

‘Yeah,’ said Snoddy.

‘Look, I’m going down the tavern,’ I said.

‘Come on, Ceese,’ Shadow said. ‘Don’t make a big thing of it.’

‘Yeah,’ Snoddy said. ‘I’m the president and I’m telling ya we’ll be leaving in about five minutes. Just stay here.’

Ha, I thought to myself, after all these months now he wants to make the decisions. So I went down to Junior. ‘Is your bike ready?’

‘Yep.’ He tried kicking it over but it wouldn’t start. Snoddy yelled out to Junior, ‘You’ve got fifteen minutes. If it don’t start you’re going in one of the cars.’

But Junior got it going and all the bikes pulled out the front of Lance’s, lined up down the street. We were just waiting for Snoddy and Lard to get into Snoddy’s station wagon – still loaded with all his camping gear – and for Bull, Shadow and Wack to get into Bull’s Holden wagon. The only members that were missing were Bongo Snake and Mouth.

All the bikes started up. I was out in front with a baseball bat strapped to my handlebars in case of trouble. The two cars were in the middle. We headed towards the Viking Tavern.

Once we reached Milperra, Snoddy and Bull’s station wagons pulled out of the pack and went to the front. Snoddy’s Falcon was first into the driveway of the sprawling ranch-style pub, followed by Bull’s Holden, then me.

They turned right into one of the car park rows shaded by skinny gum trees, but there were no spots to stop. The place was crowded with people and stalls. The smell of barbecuing meat filled the air.

Snoddy and Bull drove slowly up the parking row until a car pulled out in front of Snoddy, blocking his way. I looked back to check on the rest of the blokes and I saw that they were all in the car park. That’s when I noticed the first sign of trouble.

Jock’s sidekick, Foghorn, was driving in behind us in his ute. He stopped, blocking our way out. I watched him get out of the ute carrying an M1 carbine – the American World War II semi-automatic – and run into the crowd towards the pub.

I looked down and saw a bunch of Comancheros standing about three parking rows away. They all had shotguns on their hips. I saw Leroy, who had become their sergeant-at-arms, among them. I looked around for Jock but couldn’t see him. I figured that, as usual, he’d sent his blokes out while he stayed back at the clubhouse.

There was no time to think. We weren’t ready for a gun battle. And we were trapped. I knew if we tried to walk or run out of the car park, we were all going to get shot in the back. I think they expected that when we turned up and saw all the guns we’d go to water, panic and throw our colours down or whatever. They’d obviously forgotten who they were dealing with.

I got off my bike and started walking straight towards them without bothering to get the bat off my handlebars. I just strode down between the rows of parked cars, yelling: ‘Put down your guns and fight like men.’ I thought that if I could just get to Leroy he’d probably put down his shotty and have a go at me, one on one. The other thing flashing through my head was that the closer I got to them, the better chance I had of grabbing a couple of them and snatching their guns. That way, if anyone started shooting I had something to shoot back with.

I was about one car away from Leroy when I challenged him directly.

‘You really want to go one on one?’ he said.