Issue 3 Crime and Punishment Devolution Travel
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The Best of 25 Years of the Scottish Review Issue 3 Crime and Punishment Devolution Travel Edited by Islay McLeod ICS Books To Kenneth Roy, founder of the Scottish Review, mentor and friend, and to all the other contributors who are no longer with us. First published by ICS Books 216 Liberator House Prestwick Airport Prestwick KA9 2PT © Institute of Contemporary Scotland 2020 Cover design: James Hutcheson All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means without the prior permission of the publisher. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN 978-1-8382831-2-4 Contents Crime and Punishment 1 Dancing with a stranger Magnus Linklater (1996) 2 Insider George Chalmers (1999) 11 Alice's year Fiona MacDonald (1999) 16 Anne Frank and the prisoners Paula Cowan (2009) 23 She took her last breath handcuffed to a guard Kenneth Roy (2013) 26 The last man to be hanged in Scotland returns to haunt us Kenneth Roy (2014) 29 Inside the Vale Prisoner 65595 (2016) 32 The truth about knife crime Kenneth Roy (2016) 36 Crack central Maxwell MacLeod (2016) 39 Rape, and the men who get away with it Kenneth Roy (2017) 42 Polmont boys Kenneth Roy (2017) 44 Spouses who kill Kenneth Roy (2018) 47 Still banging them up Kenneth Roy (2018) 50 The death in prison of Katie Allan Kenneth Roy (2018) 53 Fear and loathing in the gym Kenneth Roy (2018) 55 In defence of 'not proven' verdicts Alistair R Brownlie (2018) 58 Devolution 60 End of Britain? 1: Eleutheria Christopher Small (1997) 62 End of Britain? 2: True Brits Ian Jack (1997) 69 End of Britain? 3: The last freedom Ian Mackenzie (1997) 76 6.5.99: a day in the life of Scotland Miscellaneous (1999) 82 The heavy mob Tom Shields (2000) 161 Has Scotland changed in 20 years of devolution? Gerry Hassan (2018) 165 Travel 169 Chinatown Neil McFadyean (1995) 170 A Scot abroad Tom Hubbard (1996) 174 Not a surplus of amenity William Hunter (1997) 181 Stone cold Ian Mackenzie (1997) 189 Clonakilty, God help us Kenneth Roy (1999) 197 Boiled eggs for tea Fiona MacDonald (2000) 201 Bowing deeply Magnus Linklater (2000) 211 A chippy in Brigadoon George Chalmers (2002) 229 Return to Orkney Hannah Summers (2003) 233 Echoes of home John McKendrick (2006) 237 Irish journey Robins Millar (2008) 241 Scottish journey Islay McLeod (2008) 252 Calvin for company Walter Humes (2008) 259 Anybody for Albania? Barbara Millar (2008) 260 The man who beat the snow Jock Gallagher (2009) 261 Buddha, can you spare a yen? Roddy Charles (2010) 264 The 3.08 from Carlisle Kenneth Roy (2011) 267 She lit up my journey Andrew Hook (2011) 270 Running away? Where not to go Catherine Czerkawska (2011) 272 A perfect summer day in Scotland Sally Magnusson, Tom Devine, Ian Jack, Katie Grant and David Donnison (2013) 274 The bus to Delphi Morelle Smith (2014) 277 My favourite place to get lost in the crowd Alan McIntyre (2014) 280 A journey to Yorkshire via Saltcoats R D Kernohan (2014) 283 A sardine for dinner: to Barcelona in search of Orwell Kenneth Roy (2016) 287 A celebration of Europe Magnus Linklater, Catherine Czerkawska, Michael Elcock and Morelle Smith (2016) 292 American journey David Torrance (2016) 295 Abroad in Trumpland Katie Grant (2016) 298 A week in a quiet country James Robertson (2018) 301 From Checkpoint Charlie to Checkpoint Cheesy Islay McLeod (2018) 305 Walking an island Morelle Smith (2018) 309 The artists of Dieppe Morelle Smith (2018) 312 My package holiday to the Gambia David Torrance (2018) 314 Sunrise in Bagan was a tonic for the soul David Torrance (2019) 317 Discovering Bunk'art: an immersive theatre of the past Morelle Smith (2019) 320 The forgotten homeless of Denver David Torrance (2019) 323 Eating ice cream and looking for Kafka in Prague Gillean Somerville-Arjat (2019) 325 An unexpected Scottish connection in Yangon David Torrance (2019) 330 Culross: a remarkable reminder of an authentic Scottish past Andrew Hook (2019) 332 Contributors 334 CRIME AND PUNISHMENT Dancing with a stranger Magnus Linklater 1996 For a girl out on the town, those nights at the Barrowland were unforgettable – the thumping rhythm of the band, music you could really dance to, the feeling of letting yourself go, the sweat running down the back of your dress, the excitement of not quite knowing how the evening would end. And the innocence of it all, a carefree atmosphere you don't find these days, with all the talk of drugs and violence. You could saunter from the pub to the dance hall, spend the evening with someone new, leave on your own if a man didn't take your fancy, or together, if you liked the look of him. To dance with a stranger, to set off with him in a taxi, to go alone with him, arm in arm up a deserted close, was that danger? Or was it just delight? Jeannie Williams is in no doubt. Those Glasgow nights of 30 years ago are memories to be treasured. She and her friends went dancing most weeks, to the Barrowland near Glasgow Cross, or to the Plaza, the Albert, the Locarno, or the Majestic, where bands like Dr Crock and his Crackpots would belt out the current hits like Yellow River, Butterfingers or that new one by Marmalade, Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da. Glasgow was dancing-mad in those days. The Barrowland was a bit down-market of course, a bit scruffier than the others, but still good fun, and Thursday was over-25s night – 'winching night' some folk called it – when the music was just that bit softer and the men were just that bit more sophisticated, and you were maybe on the lookout for something more than dancing. So what if some of them were married; everyone knew the score, you didn't ask too many questions, and not everyone was there just for a 'lumber' as the Glasgow slang has it. You went to let your hair down. There was talk, of course, about the dance hall murders, the two poor girls, Pat Docker and Jemima McDonald, who had been found dead, both of them strangled after a night at the Barrowland, Jemima less than three months ago, Pat just last year. There was a police notice pinned to the board, with a drawing of the man they were looking for, but Jeannie and her younger sister Helen scarcely glanced at it as they headed for the dance floor that Thursday night, 30 October 1969. Helen Puttock was 29, slim, brunette, 'a lovely girl' as Jeannie remembers her, popular with her friends, fun to be with, but strong-willed and used to having her own way. Born Helen Gowans and brought up in Partick, she was one of four children whose parents had separated and whose mother now lived in Scotstoun. A Forces wife, her husband George Puttock was in the REME and stationed in Germany. That night, however, he was back on leave. When Helen suggested that she and Jeannie should go to the Barrowland he objected strongly, and the result was what 2 he calls 'a tremendous fight'. In the end, however, Helen had her own way and George stayed behind to babysit for their two children. Jeannie says there was nothing unusual about that in those days. 'It wasn't odd behaviour to us,' she says. 'When I was with my husband, I went out my night, he went out his night. He knew where I went. Maybe you'd call it trust, I don't know.' Only one other person expressed doubts about the two girls going to the Barrowland that night. Their mother, Jean, reminded them of the two murders and suggested they should stay at home. But Helen was unimpressed. 'Can you imagine anyone trying anything on me?' she said, and she showed her mother her fine, long nails. 'She had a temper,' remembers Jeannie. 'We used to fight as children, and she always used her nails.' George agrees: 'She was strong physically. She always said that no-one could get the better of her'. And so Helen and Jeannie went out together. Helen wore a little black dress with short sleeves, black shoes and an imitation ocelot fur. Jeannie chose a skirt, a blouse and a dark green coat with a sheepskin collar. They left Helen's flat at 129 Earl Street at 8.30pm, caught a bus in Dumbarton Road and headed for a drink or two before things livened up at the Barrowland. They got off at Glasgow Cross at about 9pm and went into the Trader's Tavern in Kent Street which was doing a roaring trade. Glasgow pubs in those days tended to be grim places. They were for serious drinkers – 'connoisseurs of the morose' as Hugh MacDiarmid put it – mainly men, standing at the bar trying to get as much alcohol into them before closing time at 10pm sharp. But that night the Trader's Tavern had its fair share of Barrowland customers getting into the mood, since the dance hall itself had no licence. Helen and Jeannie, with their two friends, were able to have a few whiskies and a bit of 'crack' – swapping gossip and the odd risqué joke – before walking around the corner for the dancing. Entry to the Barrowland cost them four shillings each. Inside, the noise and the heat were already intense.