The Pie Shop. Chapter Two. SAM

You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife, even one of those battered old knives with cracked, brown wooden handles they gave you in The Pie Shop when you collected your pie and mash or whatever. Yes! Yes! I know that's an old and hackneyed cliché but it perfectly describes the situation that quite suddenly developed in the Pie Shop at about half-past-twelve in the morning, on the 21st June 1952. It was so unusual I even remember the time and date of it all. Someone had told Sam to "Sod Off!"…..He did….told him to "Sod Off!" yeah, that Sam, the one that stands in the corner all the time, the very one that everyone's so careful not to upset.

We all stopped whatever we were doing, chatting about our latest achievements, telling stories, or just simply working our way through the somewhat unappetising food in front of us. Some stopped with large pieces of pie halfway to their mouths as if suddenly frozen in mid-action, others halted, a mug of steaming tea in mid-sip and stared over the rim into space, all gazed open mouthed and expectant in the direction of the table in the middle of the room. Had we heard what we thought we'd heard? Had we? Really? Sam told to "Sod Off!" It seemed unlikely but there were about fifty young men in the Pie Shop that night and they couldn't all have been hearing things, could they!

The offender was a newcomer of course, had to be, no one else would have been that brave…or that stupid. But he was with some blokes that knew the rules and they should have told him about Sam. Either they hadn't, the bloke had some sort of death wish or just fancied a couple of weeks in the Hackney Hospital. Either way he had said it and the whole place held it's breath in disbelief and expectation. Even Lil's considerable bulk behind her counter, paused, hot pie in hand and a look of astonishment on her usually inscrutable face. What would Sam do? Chuck him out? Thump him? He couldn't ignore him, or the insult. We all held our breath in anticipation.

I should explain for the benefit of those of you that have never been to this particular Pie Shop in the East End of London that Sam was a big fella. There was talk that he had been a contender for the middleweight crown at one time, and had fought in the Jack Solomons promotions at Bethnal Green Town Hall and the Devonshire Hall. It all must have been before he went into the army because the latter had been bombed during the War and was now derelict. What he did in the army during the war we never did find out. Nowadays he never seemed to be anywhere but in his corner of the Pie Shop.

He was Lil's son. She ran the place and gave you your food from the counter, I won't say she served because the word service and Lil don't sit together too well, no, she owned The Pie Shop and to ensure good order was kept, Sam, with his dark blue-and-white striped butcher's apron over a pair of black trousers and a white shirt, stood comfortably in a corner of the shop every Friday and Saturday night, and for all I know every other night too, though I never went there any other than Saturday night after the dance.

If a table became a bit boisterous Sam would stroll across and say quietly "Mum says to turn the sound down a bit." then without waiting for any sort of reply he would saunter back to his place in the corner. The sound immediately assumed a lesser level. In all the years I went there I never once saw a fight in there nor even start in there. Sam would have taken it personally. And yet this bloke had told him to "Sod Off!" can you believe it? Everyone in the Pie Shop that night found it hard to. Surely he had to come to grief.

Sam, to everyone's surprise didn't seem to be too concerned at the comment. He gave a sort of vague smile that a more observant opponent would have noticed failed to reach his eyes, and said very quietly. "Don't be silly son, just turn it down a bit." To everyone's amazement the bloke repeated the remark. "Sod Off!" he said again, this time loud enough for the whole place to hear and then he added with a broad grin. "We are all having a great time here."

Now that was stretching a point as far as most of us were concerned, by now we were all feeling a bit uncomfortable, this was a situation that none of us had been in before. Fights elsewhere were common enough but in The Pie Shop? Oh No! That was asking for more trouble than anyone would be able to cope with. We all looked at one another not knowing whether to grin, making sure that Sam didn't see us of course, or start to move away from the table where the bloke was sitting. Most of us did the latter.

What happened next has been described and embellished over the years but I was there so I can tell you precisely what happened. With the speed of a striking cobra Sam's right hand, the size of a dinner plate, shot from behind his waist, where he usually kept his hands lightly clasped, grabbed the bloke by the back of his head and shoved his face firmly down into the plateful of hot food. "Enjoy your food!" Sam said grimly and shook the head in his hand vigorously to ensure the food covered the face, then having returned his hand to it's usual position behind his back, and with his usual disdain, walked slowly back to his corner.

Now we could officially laugh, and we did…..We did but the bloke didn't. He lifted his head back up out of the mashed potato. Hot, grey liquor (Known as likker) saturated the front of his hair and ran down through the creamy potato on his forehead then dripped off the end of his nose onto the white marble table top. The rest of his face was covered in specks of green parsley and, from the pie, small pieces of the pale brown meat that so resembled stewed rubber bands. He looked around to make sure his assailant wasn't about to shove his face back into the plate of food again. I swear I saw murder in his eyes.

He made to rise quickly but again the fact of being a newcomer let him down. He smashed his knee violently against the iron spar that ran along the underneath of the table and collapsed back onto his chair, which since he had pushed it back before rising was no longer in a position to receive him. The chair skidded sideways and fell over dumping the poor bloke onto the floor, worse still the back of the chair shot forward and crashed against the back of his head causing him to jerk his head forward and thump his forehead against the edge of the marble table top. He hit the floor only half-conscious. As if to complete his misery some sawdust from the floor joined the mess on his face and added to the hilarity that was developing all around. We all know about that bar and never get up quickly. It pays to stand up slowly and carefully. He didn't and he paid the price.

Nobody moved for a minute, to be honest no one wanted Sam or anyone else to think they knew the bloke or was involved with him in any way; just in case…you understand. But eventually, it seemed like an age, his mates stood up carefully and helped him to his feet. One on either side held him upright while a third gently wiped the now congealing mashed potato and likker from his face with a large red and white spotted handkerchief. Abandoning their pie and mash, they began to make their way towards the door. When they had reached a distance he considered safe enough the newcomer turned and screamed at Sam. "You'll be sorry for this….you wait, you don't know who I am…you soon will though." Sam's expression didn't alter one iota, he just stared at the bloke, forcing him to avert his streaming eyes. As he made for the door he gave a final glance over his shoulder and one final threat "You ain't heard the last of this mate!" and he was gone.

We all heaved a sigh of relief and after a buzz of conversation resembling the sound of a swarm of bees things gradually returned to normal. Well as normal as things could get after the excitement of the past few minutes. But we gradually returned to our previous conversations, Sam, still stood in his corner, Lil… well she had disappeared through the door alongside the counter that led to her rooms above the shop and was replaced by Florrie her assistant. On the surface things were on an even keel again.

It must have been about a quarter–past-one on that warm early June morning when the next phase of the drama began. Those of us that were left had exhausted the unstoppable desire to laugh at the memory of that face dripping with likker and all sorts. Speculation about who the bloke could have been and what might happen next had died away and were about ready to make our ways home when the door opened and a sharply dressed man walked in followed by two very heavy looking men. We all knew who he was, Lenny Kensitt. We didn't recognise those with him but it didn't want much working out to know why they were there.

Kensitt wasn't tall but somehow seemed to be, maybe it was the way he dressed, scrupulously clean, perfectly pressed grey double-breasted suit, dark blue shirt and silver tie with a perfect Windsor knot, and black shoes that shone like mirrors. Or maybe, and more likely, it was his reputation. He was what at that time was called a spiv and was known to have a very nasty turn of mind. He had somehow avoided being called up into the army and during the war had generally been known as the man you went to see if there was something you wanted and didn't have enough coupons to get it. Mind you he'd charge you over the odds for whatever it was but he never failed to deliver.
He'd made a lot of money and although little was known about his background or even which part of the East End he come from he was regarded with a mixture of fear or gratitude depending on why you had met him…well not him personally, he was never seen to be involved with anything dodgy. The local police knew about his exploits unofficially but had never been able to pin anything on him. He saw himself as an as yet undiscovered, British version of George Raft the American movie star who always played the part of a gangster. He even had the same mannerism of jerking his arms forward to reveal the cuffs of his shirtsleeve with gold links glinting brightly. As a result he was often called "Cuffs Kensitt" not if he was in earshot though of course. The high tension atmosphere was back with a vengeance, we all exchanged nervous glances and did our best to become invisible.

He nodded agreeably to Lil as he passed the counter. I hadn't noticed her re-appearance but there she was as usual. "Mornin' Lil," he said. She just looked at him and continued sharpening the long butcher's knife she used to slice up the meat for her pies. Sam didn't move and from the look on his face wasn't the least bit phased by the appearance of the local 'face'. Kensitt continued his progress across the room until he stood at the table that had seen such extraordinary activity a short while back. "Mornin' Sam," he greeted Sam with a faint smile. Sam just nodded but made no reply. "I hear there's been spot a bovver here t'night," he said. Still Sam said nothing and nor did anyone else. We knew to when keep quiet. This was turning into something very serious and none of us wanted to be seen to be involved. "Yeah, young Charlie, me kid bruvver tells me he had a very bad experience here t'night." Kensitt came straight to the point. "Not a very nice way to welcome him, it seems t' me." Still Sam said nothing.

To my extreme discomfort Kensitt turned to me, I was at the table nearest the scene of the trouble. "What's your name, sunshine?" he asked. There wasn't the slightest menace in his voice. Was he really as bad as his reputation suggested? "Percy," I told him. "Percy Holden." He nodded. "OK, Percy Holden, tell me what happened here tonight." I gulped. It seemed I had the choice of upsetting either Kensitt or Sam, an each-way bet on disaster. Now, I always reckon that in a tight corner you tell the truth, or as near to the truth as you can get and mostly it turns out OK. I hoped this would be one those occasions.

After taking a deep breath I explained what I had seen. "None of us knew he was your kid brother but in any case what he said to Sam was out of order." I concluded. "I didn't ask for your opinion, I asked what happened, " he snapped. Suddenly I could see the menace in the man, but I had said my piece. "That's what happened, he told Sam to Sod Off." I shrugged, "most of what happened was after Sam had gone back to his corner. "

Kensitt turned away from me, I was glad to be able to fade back into my mates' group. "Sam," he said. "I reck'n you were a bit 'eavy with young Charlie, makes it personal. I'm afraid. It'll cost you a bit." Still Sam said nothing. Kensitt's smooth exterior began to crack. "Sam you did hear me didn't you?" Sam's thin smile didn't waver. "Yeah, Lenny, I heard you," he said but made no further comment and looking as relaxed as ever remained in his corner. "We'll say £500 as compensation shall we?" Kensitt continued. "That should settle the matter."

We all gasped, £500, that's a bloody fortune we thought, a year's wages for most. The rasping sound from behind the counter as Lil added an even sharper edge to her butcher's knife continued as if nothing untoward was happening and Sam showed absolutely no sign of feeling the least bit bothered. I wouldn't have fancied being the bod trying to collect that £500 from Lil's till and I couldn't wait to see who would be delegated to do it. What a drama! Even more was to come.

The heavy wooden doors to the Pie Shop opened again, this time to admit a short fat man smoking a short fat cigar. He was preceded by four thickset men, two of whom held the door open for him. The massive brass handles on the door looked normal size in their hands. We recognised Billy and George Saunders and their cousins, Harry and Roy Bundy. Who wouldn't have recognised them? The fat man looked around the room. "Morning all," he said and walked through the tables, rounded the counter and kissed Lil on the cheek….I'm telling you he kissed Lil on the cheek! Her size and forbidding appearance always gave the impression that the last time she had been kissed anywhere was about nine months before Sam was born! "How's tricks Lil?" he asked. "Make mine pie and mash but not too much likker, I always spill it down my tie. Looks very unpleasant that."

He glanced across the room to where Lenny Kensitt stood. "Hello Lenny old son, you in for some pie and mash too?" Turning back to Lil he said "Add Lenny's bill to mine Lil. I haven't seen him for a long time." We watched all this going on with bated breath hardly believing what we were seeing. Here were two of the East End's biggest villains sitting in our pie shop exchanging pleasantries as if they too had spent the evening at the Town Hall dance. The tension in the air made our throats dry up. Things showed every sign of turning very nasty!

The newcomer was from Islington and really was Mister Bigg. Really, that's what he called himself Henry Bigg. He insisted on the two G's on the end of the name. "Might as well make the name worth something," had been his comment. Apparently he'd taken the name after he had established himself as the guv'nor of everything on the wrong side of the law on his manor. The four heavies with him had reputations that demanded respect too. This was now a confrontation of historic proportions as far we were concerned. The Pie Shop was neutral territory so on the surface they were being civil to each other. On a lower level the menace in the air was unmistakeable. People had disappeared after meetings like this. All thoughts of leaving the scene faded from our minds and we watched the exchanges with nervous fascination.

The fat man pointed to the seat opposite him. "Have a seat Lenny, you can't eat pie and mash standin' up." Kensit had little choice but to accept the invitation and did so rather carelessly, making the same mistake his brother had made earlier. He crashed his knee against the spar under the table and winced as he did so. Henry grinned "You should know better than that Lenny, it's not as if you've never been here before." There was silence for a while, both men simply sitting looking at each other. Lil actually brought their meals to them, something else no one had ever seen before. Having dumped their plates in front of them she stomped off back behind her counter.

Henry opened the conversation. "Lil tells me that your kid brother has been misbehaving himself again," he said. "You really ought to keep him on a lead or something, he'll get you into real trouble one of these days." Kensitt nodded his head. "Well Henry, you know what kids are like they just want to let off some steam, don't mean no harm." Henry shook his head doubtfully. "Just the same, we can't have him causing aggro at this time of the morning, it upsets everyone. Y' do understand what I'm saying to ya, don't ya Lenny?" Kensitt said he did understand and would have a word with young Charlie as soon as he saw him. "That's very good news," declared Henry "Now as I came in I heard you discussing compensation with Sam, £500 wasn't it? Lenny nodded and was about to say something when Henry turned to Lil and asked in a loud voice. "Lil, is £500 enough?" she looked back over the counter and seemed to consider her position for moment or two then replied "Yeah, I think that's fair Henry, there's only the broken chair and a couple o' plates, so I accept his offer and we'll say no more about it." Henry smiled broadly "Well that's settled then Lenny you'll pay Lil £500 by way of compensation and have a word wiv Charlie boy 'bout his attitude. Everyone's happy."

I could hardly believe what I had just heard. I looked at the rest of our group and their faces reflected the astonishment registering on mine. How had Lil turned the tables? She had never left the place and Sam hadn't moved from his place in the corner all night, apart from the visit to the neighbouring table. She must have made a phone call from upstairs as soon as Charlie had left the room. That she had such connections sent her cred shooting up in the eyes of all those present.

Henry left the pie shop declaring that it had been quite like old times and the food hadn't changed a bit in twenty years…which was true. However as he climbed into the rear seat of the black Jaguar parked outside he reflected on the fact that Lil had still charged him for the two meals and concluded that he should never have told her in an unguarded moment about the time her son Sam had dragged him out of a burning tank in the middle of the desert. It was a debt he could never repay and Lil had no compunction in reminding him of it from time to time. Still it was always worthwhile scoring a point off Lenny Kensitt so it had been a good night all round really. He grinned to himself "£500 quid," he said half aloud "I bet young Charlie 'll learning the facts of life about now." He laughed all the way back to his flat in Islington.