Jerry Langton Three-Book Bundle (54 page)

Harris wasn't the only one Stadnick had to worry about back then. Although the Hells Angels had no official presence in Ontario at the time, Stadnick had business to conduct and kept his local associates close. Rather than meet at his house, Stadnick held meetings on the other side of town. “Someone else's name was on the papers, but we knew it was really Walter who owned Rebel's Roadhouse,” said Harris. “It was a great set-up, he had a bar in the front and an office in the back.” With its biker/ Western/Confederate decor, Rebel's was a popular meeting and drinking spot, despite being owned by a Hells Angel in an Outlaws town, and it made plenty of money legally. But in the back, out of earshot, was where the real action was. Stadnick, with his now-omnipresent right-hand man Stockford, met with many regional heavyweights and old friends. “Walter was extremely careful in Hamilton,” said Harris. “He surrounded himself with friends who had legitimate and useful businesses.”

Kathi Anderson helped to handle Stadnick's investments and taxes. She also held a job with Canada Trust. Stockford ran West End Talent, an agency that supplied strippers to area bars.

Some of Standnick's other old friends who had cut their ties with biker organizations included former Wild One John “Cataract Jack” Pluim became a prominent real estate agent, while another good friend, Alvin Patterson, still owns and operates AL Choppers, a shop that specializes in Harley-Davidson repair and customization. Another, George Freeborn, owned a successful paving company that eventually won the contract to pave the new Hamilton Mountain police station. “Those guys stayed clean and helped Walter in legal ways,” said Harris.

Aside from Stockford, none of Stadnick's Hamilton friends ever got in serious trouble with the law, although Patterson was the sole Canadian importer of
Easy Riders
, a magazine for bikers published by a Hells Angels puppet company, which was illegal in this country until 1984. The police never really bothered him about it.

The Outlaws couldn't ignore Stadnick's growing influence in the area. If they couldn't keep a single full-patch member from succeeding in their city, how could they prevent the Hells Angels from taking over the province? Stadnick had to be removed, but it wouldn't be easy. He was as careful with the Outlaws as he was with cops. Bombing his car wouldn't work; he was just too smart for that, so they decided to hit him at Rebel's. Through Outlaws in New York State, the Hamilton Chapter managed to get their hands on the perfect weapon. The M-72 Light Antitank Weapon (better known as the LAW) is a single-shot rocket launcher similar to the bazooka from World War II. Collapsing down to a two-foot tube weighing just five pounds, the LAW is easy to conceal, but it packs an incredible punch. From 200 yards, an armor-piercing LAW shell can penetrate a foot of solid metal and create havoc on the other side. The plan was to put one shell through the front door of Rebel's while Stadnick was inside and have another one ready in case the first one missed.

They never pulled it off. A nervous informant within the Outlaws called Harris and told him everything, including the location within a nearby provincial park where the weapons were buried. There was no way Harris would leave the LAWs there to see who'd dig them up; it was way too dangerous. “I think they were relieved when I found them; they didn't have the heart to pull off something that dramatic,” Harris said. “When Parente was running the show they would have done it; but after he went to prison, they didn't have the guts.”

When Stadnick returned to Sorel, it was a very different place. Most of his friends were in prison or living in fear they soon would be. With their numbers reduced, the Hells Angels were rapidly losing ground to the formerly second-fiddle Outlaws. Always on the look-out for rising talent, Stadnick noticed a fearless and decisive young prospect in Maurice Boucher and quickly befriended him. It was an odd pairing. Strapping, handsome Boucher couldn't speak much English and tiny, disfigured Stadnick was even less comfortable in French. But the two recognized that they needed each other. Boucher was ruthless, but not reckless the way Trudeau had been. He had the muscle and courage to impose the Hells Angels' will. And Stadnick was smart, meticulous and forward-thinking. He had the ability to charm, recruit and formulate a strategy for a Hells Angels comeback. Together they would form the future of the club in Canada, and they knew it.

But it wasn't them, or any other Montreal Hells Angel that would make the first successful and lasting inroads with an Ontario club. In the huge expanse of Canada between Quebec and British Columbia, there were dozens of clubs that tried their best to remain neutral in the Hells Angels-Outlaws rivalry. In fact, the three biggest non-aligned clubs of the time—the remaining Satan's Choice in Ontario, the Grim Reapers in Alberta and Los Brovos in Winnipeg—created an informal alliance specifically aimed at frustrating the advance of the Outlaws and Hells Angels into their territory. Toronto was no different. Home to drug and prostitution markets at least double the size of Montreal's, Toronto had long been home to a number of clubs that lived in an uneasy tolerance of one another. There was a tacit, but strictly followed, agreement that no Toronto club would associate with either of the superpowers. That changed in August 1986, when the Para-Dice Riders, Toronto's biggest club, partied with the Hells Angels in British Columbia.

Rick Ciarniello was a member of the Vancouver Chapter and, if you believe the police, the de facto leader of the B.C. Hells Angels. He frequently denied that the Hells Angels were a criminal enterprise—claiming they were “just a bunch of nice guys who rode motorcycles”—but he lived in a massive house in a great neighborhood and drove a brand-new Lincoln with vanity plates that read “ANGELS.” It wasn't just individual members who were getting wealthy in British Columbia; the local chapters put their savings together and bought a beautiful wooded piece of land just outside Nanaimo on Vancouver Island. Angel Acres, as they called it, featured a dirt track, a large in-ground pool, a bandshell and a set of trailers for overnight stays. It was a perfect place for bikers to drink, party and blow off steam without worrying about neighbors or police. On the first weekend of August 1986, the B.C. Hells Angels threw a birthday bash to celebrate their third anniversary. More than 3,000 bikers showed up from all over North America, including all 39 members of the Para-Dice Riders, who had driven all the way from Toronto. They drank, they partied and they met with the Hells Angels brass, including Stadnick, but made no deals other than to promise to return for the party next year.

Back in Montreal, both Stadnick and Boucher (who became a full-patch member on May 1, 1987) were gaining in influence. Their complementary skills made them a powerful team, and they were soon calling the shots for Sorel. They were ready when their chance came.

Despite an official salary of $400 a week, Langlois had a house in the mountains that put Ciarniello's to shame. He also had a luxury car, an award-winning custom Harley and a private airplane. After the top of the chapter went to prison, he was the natural choice to take over as president. Not only did he have seniority, but he'd proven his ability to make money and escape prosecution. But his reign came to an abrupt end in the spring of 1988. When word spread that a Hells Angels associate in Montreal's Bordeaux prison was willing to betray Langlois for his part in the Lennoxville Massacre in exchange for a reduced sentence, the president panicked. Rather than face his chances with police and courts, he fled. Packing as much as they could, Langlois and his wife flew to Morocco. For two years, they disappeared in the North African country where French is widely spoken and European tourists are common.

Stadnick took the initiative and called an emergency meeting. Every member showed. After a long and sober night of discussion and argument, he called a vote. It was close, but a clear winner emerged. Walter Stadnick, the tiny tough guy from Hamilton, the guy who used to pull his hair through a hole in the top of his helmet, the guy who was scarred almost beyond recognition and still barely spoke a word of French, got what he always wanted: he was president of the Canadian Hells Angels.

Stadnick's first act as president was an astute one. He took Boucher aside and let him know that he would be the top Hells Angel in Quebec and that Stadnick would concentrate primarily on recruiting clubs in English-speaking Canada and other strategic goals. It made perfect sense: besides the obvious language problem, Stadnick realized he didn't have a very firm grip on the cultural differences between Quebec and the rest of Canada. And he liked what he saw in Boucher, who could be charming and likeable when he wanted to be and had kept his promise to stay off drugs. He was a natural leader, and he also appeared to be a loyal friend who understood that Stadnick possessed organizational skills and a strategic intellect he would never have.

Reinforced with a strong new leadership team, the Hells Angels again went on the offensive. A Quebec City club, the Vikings, had been prospecting for the Hells Angels and many members had become skeptical about the organization after Langlois fled. They didn't know Stadnick well and were dismayed that a runty Anglophone was now in charge of the mighty Hells Angels. On May 28, 1988, the Sorel chapter rode down the river and partied with the Vikings. Stadnick negotiated the deal, while Boucher translated and made friends. It was so successful, they patched over the Vikings—who became the Hells Angels' Quebec City Chapter—that night. Little more than a year later, October 17, 1989, the SQ executed a search warrant on their clubhouse with a backhoe. After knocking down two outside walls and a ceiling but finding nothing incriminating, the police shrugged their shoulders and left. The Quebec City chapter called Sorel for help. Stadnick told them to sue the police and gave them the names of some lawyers. They won their case and the SQ was forced to pay for the clubhouse repairs.

When Stadnick returned to Hamilton, he was a different man. Or at least, he looked like one. “I first realized he'd been elected president when he showed up with the company car,” said Harris. Instead of his familiar Pontiac Bonneville, Stadnick was driving a brand-new black Jaguar with Quebec plates. And his wardrobe changed too. Always a flamboyant dresser, Stadnick pushed the limits after he became president. “He wore his colors more and more and decorated them with patches and red leather fringes,” said Steve Pacey, a Hamilton cop who took over the biker beat in 1999 and had known Stadnick since high school. “He was very ceremonial, like a king; but sometimes he reminded me of Michael Jackson.”

He may not have impressed the cops, but Stadnick was beginning to increase his influence in his hometown. On August 23, 1988, he was arrested at the home of Douglas Freeborn, a former president of the Hamilton Satan's Choice chapter who had decided to quit when the Outlaws took over. Just over 11 ounces of hash was found in the couch they were sitting on, and both men were charged with possession with intent to distribute. What happened next surprised everyone, particularly Harris. For reasons that have never been made entirely clear, Freeborn claimed that all the hash was his; Stadnick was free to walk.