Wannabe in My Gang? (29 page)

I knew it wouldn’t be long before Lindsay and Leighton were back in the news. I didn’t expect it to be as contestants on
Mastermind
either. They were clearly desperate to follow in the Krays’ footsteps and I was fairly confident that the way they were putting themselves about, they would succeed. It was not, after all, that difficult to get locked up in prison if you put your mind to it.

The curtain finally came down on the Fraynes’ East End stage performance of pantomime gangsters when they were arrested for a £10,000 armed raid on a building society in their hometown of Newbridge, Gwent. They had planned to use their ill-gotten gains to finance their new crime empire in London, but the raid on the Halifax was badly bungled. An accomplice, Steve Cook, was apprehended trying to make his getaway on a bus after the getaway car had broken down. The two women cashiers who were behind the counter that day were so badly traumatised by their ordeal that neither has worked since. It’s a pity they didn’t realise they were being confronted by fools. When the police began to look into the activities of the Frayne gang, they learned that they had also planned to kidnap soccer star Paul Gascoigne.

Paul Edwards was recruited as a minder by the Fraynes and he had been told that his job was to ‘look mean’ when they were out in public together. Seventeen-stone Edwards, a former SAS soldier, had been working as a chauffeur and bodyguard for Gascoigne when he had been playing for Tottenham Hotspur. It was claimed that the gang had suggested Edwards use his position to abduct the star, who was then playing for Lazio in Rome, and they would hold him for ransom. The kidnap plot was part of the fantasy world the Frayne gang had immersed itself in and so it never did happen.

Another witness told police that he was present when Edwards and the Fraynes discussed a plot to kidnap a Morecambe businessman until an underworld debt of £132,000 had been paid.

Leighton Frayne had been so desperate to be known as the new Ronnie Kray, he had even tried to copy Ronnie’s schizophrenia-induced outbursts, exploding into theatrical violence without any obvious reason or warning. The Frayne entourage would embroider the facts when telling others about these tantrums. This boosted the Fraynes’ egos and satisfied their craving for a reputation as violent gangsters.

One former associate told how a replica gun was rammed into his mouth during a row. What harm a replica gun could to do to him, only the replica Krays could know. A pub landlord almost laughed as he described how they had tried to start a protection racket in Newbridge. He told police that when the Fraynes approached him he said, ‘Where do you think you are, Chicago? I told them to get out.’

The brothers even tried to silence witnesses as their heroes had done prior to their trial in 1969. Three ex-associates complained of menacing phone calls and letters warning them not to testify, and one potential witness beaten up by the Fraynes sold his home and vanished. He has still not been traced. One suspects that fleeing from the Fraynes has proven to be acutely embarrassing.

At their bungled-robbery trial, the Fraynes pleaded not guilty. After hearing the evidence, which often brought howls of laughter from the public gallery, and deliberating for 13 hours the jurors found them guilty of armed robbery, possession of an illegal weapon and conspiracy to deal in firearms. As they stood stony-faced in the dock at Newport Crown Court, Judge Michael Gibbon told the pair, ‘You have to be deterred from committing armed robbery.’ He then jailed them for a total of eight years.

Before their first bowl of prison porridge had gone cold, Tony Lambrianou was giving an interview to a tabloid newspaper about his meetings with the Kray clones. As I began to read the article, I was not surprised to learn that ‘boxing promoter’ James Campbell had been one of the Frayne brothers’ entourage. The article described how he had introduced Lambrianou to the brothers whilst ‘surrounded by seven burly minders’. From what I had seen of their minders, it was more likely their pantomime counterparts, the seven dwarfs, that had surrounded them.

Lambrianou told the reporter:

The Fraynes didn’t just want to know or be associated with the Krays, they wanted to be them. They told me they had a business in Wales and were hoping to make a film about the Krays in which they would play the twins.

They said how much they admired the twins and said that Lindsay, the quiet one, was the Reg and Leighton, the slick one, was the Ron.

As the evening wore on I realised they were obsessed, they even drank the same drinks. The ‘Ron’ drank light ale and the ‘Reg’ drank gin and tonic. It was unnerving. Those boys seemed to want to get inside the skin of Reg and Ron.

They wanted to know every detail, where they bought their clothes, where they had their hair cut, who manicured their nails, what underwear they wore. I realised there was something warped about them. After 15 years in prison you have that sixth sense. Film research or not, they sent shivers up my spine. I sniffed that something wasn’t right. It was like a
Fatal Attraction
-type thing, it really disturbed me.

Lambrianou’s ability to sniff out a fake cannot be questioned, as he himself is in the top half of the counterfeit champions league.

When the cell door slammed shut on the Fraynes, I really believed they would wake up and realise just how foolish their fascination with two failed gangsters had been. I thought they would stop their ridiculous charade and get on with living their lives in the here and now. I was of course totally wrong. The Fraynes revelled in their new-found notoriety. It didn’t matter that the tabloid press had poked fun at them after their trial.

One headline read, ‘They thought they were the Krays but we called them “Pinky and Perky”’. The Fraynes told themselves that the press always had it in for Ron and Reg and so it was to be expected that they would be subjected to negative publicity too. Locking the Krays up had been the only way the government had been able to stop them from taking over London, or so the East End myth goes. So it was no surprise that the Fraynes began to claim they had been fitted up because the authorities were concerned about their activities.

In letters from prison, ‘Ron the slick one’ (or Leighton as his mother christened him) told a pen pal that despite the humiliating press reports they had endured following the trial, the Krays had not only stood by them, but supported them. Nothing, it seemed, was going to stop the Fraynes from living out their fantasy.

Prison had not only removed Leighton from society. It had distanced him even further from reality. One letter read:

There is no rift with Reg and Ron. Some of the prosecution witnesses have asked Reg and Ron to print bad of us in return for money, but those people don’t understand the close friendship and bond that Reg and Ron have with me and Lindsay. Reg and Ron are both fine. I received a letter off Reg yesterday as I do every week. Ron writes me when he’s in the mood. Just like my brother, he doesn’t like writing. I am like Reg, I write, for it pleases me and pleases the friends I write to.

As for looking like Reggie and Ronnie, I have a difference of opinion. I see my brother looking like Reg and he says that he doesn’t look like Reg but he sees me like Ron. But, yes, I do agree, it is uncanny. Even Reg and Ron see the likeness. It has been said that me and Lindsay have the deeds to Reggie and Ronnie’s prime. I suppose that is true, but I wouldn’t call it a firm.

That’s old fashioned. I would remould it on a machine; every little cog counts. All our minders had been sent by our elders. Our personal friends seemed to take the roles of minders. There are four teams of minders, only two at one time are aware that they are active. The other two teams remain in the background. It all depends where we go. On some occasions in London there have to be 12 to 14 people at one time that you would be aware of. Some may get our drinks, watch the toilets. Sometimes the attention can get you down but I got used to it after a while. Yes, we have all the doors flung open for us. Never paid for drinks, yet offered all sorts of deals. What can you do when it is put in your lap?

When in London I feel it goes over the top, but people have jobs to do, they are classed as our minders. I am prepared to have my people way in the background as it can offend.

I was at Browns nightclub. Me and Lindsay had friends with us and some chap was making rude comments, and the older element didn’t say nothing. I thought the doormen were very good, but they too had a stand-back approach, so I brought my people in. They had a word with the person in question and the night ended happily from my point of view. So, yes, the attention can get you down. I lose myself in the mountains and enjoy listening to the birds and the fresh air. I don’t need minders when I’m in the mountains. It’s where I grew up.

I sometimes think I am glad to be back in Wales, just to be myself. I don’t think my life is like something out of James Bond. It can become very sexy if I so desired, but it’s how you look at it. I like meeting new friends and believe there are good and bad in all walks of life; the police are more corrupt and more active than villains. That’s my personal view. Please remember that I am not Ronnie, I am who I am. I really don’t think I will end up like the Krays.

Rarely have I been known to praise the police but I must thank them for halting the rise of the Frayne gang, as we may have had to endure more of ‘Ron the slick one’s’ ramblings had the robbery been a success. Stating that he didn’t think he would end up like the Krays in a letter penned from his prison cell, just about sums up his grasp on reality. Leighton must have sat in his cell wondering what he could do next to enhance the Frayne brothers’ rather dismal criminal reputation.

Few in prison would bother listening to him and so he decided he would turn to the public in the hope of gaining a fix of much-needed attention. Leighton decided that he would write the Frayne brothers’ life story, which he believed would be turned into a film. Leighton assured his pen pal that this was not them writing a book just to copy the Krays, as the press would undoubtedly insinuate:

My book is coming along fine. I won’t rush it. I have been offered a deal for a film but I must think on it. The book won’t be along the lines of
Our Story
, it will be an account of my life, the pain, the happiness, trouble, pleasure.

So much has happened in my life and I felt that it should have been written later in my life, but I have been asked to put a book together from many companies, some of whom are dear friends of mine. I will write the text myself but can be put right with my spelling mistakes.

All my fights I have had, which were some pretty violent fights, will be revealed in my book. I was stabbed very bad, through the lung, heart and spleen and seven other small wounds. Pretty bad ones, but that’s life isn’t it? I don’t like bullshit. I am a man of my word. I have been to America several times but not as me, if you know what I mean? I enjoy my own company even though I am here for something I didn’t do.

It’s a lot easier as I have no wife and no commitments to nobody, but who knows, I could meet a lady someday and settle down. If I were to have a firm, the people in the dock against me and Lindsay would be the last people I would have in any so-called firm.

My publisher has given the book a name, which we agree with. It’s called:
Guilty by Association: The Fraynes
. The book is planned to be published around our appeal date. It seems our solicitors are confident and our barristers.

Despite their solicitors and barristers being confident, the Fraynes lost their appeal against their conviction and the film was never made. No doubt Leighton didn’t want Hollywood distorting the facts or damaging his image. It wasn’t tinsel town that Leighton had to worry about rubbishing him though, it was the British Medical Association – I’m sure they would have questioned his ability to survive being stabbed ‘through the heart, lung and spleen’. Then again, who would dare to ever doubt a man who claims he ‘is a man of his word and hates bullshitters’?

As the Fraynes were being asked by ‘many companies’ to write their memoirs, it would indicate that they had a pretty extraordinary story to tell. When Leighton was asked to describe these ‘extraordinary events’ in his life, he told his prison pen pal:

We have been asked to put our story together as when on remand we smashed a police station up. We have had interest of a production of a film based on that. What triggered me and Lindsay off in the police station was when we were shown disrespect by one of the sergeants. The sergeant also did that to my family. They didn’t hurt me or Lindsay. Lindsay ripped his arm open by punching a cistern. We were just moved to different police stations. I went on a hunger and water strike for four days.

I couldn’t imagine Quentin Tarantino entering into a bidding war for the rights to make the movie and even if he had, however much popcorn I chomped, I don’t think I could sit through a film based on two failed Welsh gangsters attacking a toilet cistern in a police station. I, thankfully, wasn’t thinking like Leighton. In his fertile mind the destruction of a toilet cistern could be no ordinary act of mindless vandalism if he and his brother had carried it out. Their violence, as Leighton loved to tell people, was always extreme and always extraordinary.