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Phoenix Press – ISBN 0-948984-35-x – \u00a35.99<\/strong><\/p>\n Thought anti-fascism was all about bearded sociology lecturers waving \u2018Never Again\u2019 banners? Not in London\u2019s East End in the mid-to-late 1970s\u00a0 when the National Front\u2019s London election results put them in position of 4th largest political party, with a street presence \u2013 translated into racial attacks \u2013 to match the votes.<\/strong><\/p>\n The now uber-trendy streets of Hoxton were then the stomping ground of a home-grown Ubermensch and every week they\u2019d flow with the blood of violent confrontations between the fascists and their foes.<\/strong><\/p>\n This is the setting for a book, \u201cAnti-Fascist\u201d by Martin Lux.<\/strong><\/p>\n Already denounced by the anti-racist establishment as \u201cMaking the Antis seem more violent than the Nazis\u201d it reads like a football hooligan novel, albeit without the Stone Island clobber and anything approaching Queensbury Rules. <\/strong><\/p>\n Taking Hitler\u2019s 1933 proclamation that; <\/strong><\/p>\n “Only one thing could have broken our movement – if our enemies had understood its principle and from the first day had smashed the nucleus of our movement with extreme brutality”, <\/strong>as a call to arms, the \u2018anti-fascist struggle\u2019 on London\u2019s streets in the seventies saw more Blood than Honour.<\/strong><\/p>\n Searching out Martin in one of his Bethnal Green drinking dens I put a few questions to him about these glory days:<\/strong><\/p>\n So how did you get into fighting the NF? You don\u2019t exactly seem like your average ANL type.<\/strong><\/p>\n Yeah, you could say that. I grew up in the post war slums, got kicked out of school when I was 14 for stabbing a teacher, drunken paddy dosser for a dad who\u2019d kick my head in if I ever went home. I pretty much grew up on the streets in a world of gangs, violence and thieving. Even at that time I couldn\u2019t see anything \u2018Great\u2019 about this Britain the NF were saying would become our \u2018Land of Hope & Glory\u2019 if only we kicked out all the blacks and Jews. All the blacks and Jews I grew up with had it even worse than I did! I’d always enjoyed extreme violence but, unlike many of my mates I had no interest in football, so I thought if I\u2019m going to have some fun cracking heads there’d be none more deserving than those Nazi cunts.<\/p>\n In the early 70s Conservative politician, Enoch Powell, was the voice of the working man and nigger-hating was the common currency. You had the dockers coming out in strike in support of him after his \u2018Rivers of Blood\u2019 speech \u2013 which was basically a call to race war! If you were poor, white and working class back then the NF exploited your fears that things were heading that way, making out life would be better if Britain turned into some cross between Apartheid South Africa and the Third Reich. And a lot of fuckin\u2019 mugs fell for it.<\/p>\n A lot of the book is based around Hoxton and the East End of London. It sounds like another world back then the way you describe it\u2026?<\/strong><\/p>\n It fuckin was! The Dark Ages! People now wouldn\u2019t believe that not much over 30 years ago if you were black you were taking a risk walking from one end of Old Street to the other. It was White Man\u2019s land and the locals wanted it keep it that way! You had the NF headquarters \u2013 or Hitler\u2019s Bunker as we called it, just round the corner on Great Eastern Street, where some trendy bar is now, and anyone who walked by who they didn\u2019t like the look of would get a kicking. You\u2019d get national Front \u2018Black Muggers Out\u2019 marches along Bethnal Green Road that\u2019d end up in a mini-Nuremberg Rally in Hoxton Square! You see footage on the news of UDA rallies in the Shankhill, Belfast? That\u2019s what Hoxton was like sometimes back then \u2013 only a Nazi version!<\/p>\n What are the most violent incidents you remember of your battles with the Front in the seventies? <\/strong><\/p>\n Lewisham was probably the largest and most ferocious battle there has ever been against the Front. We even attacked the police station to try to get at the NF who were hiding in there and that was the first time Riot Shields were ever used to try and fend off the barrage of bricks we were pelting the place with. Other than that one instance that I\u2019ll never forget was when me and a few of my mob were doing the door at a Crass gig at the Conway Hall in 1979. The NF were in the habit of turning up at their shows to kick off and we\u2019d been asked by the organiser to \u2018keep an eye on things\u2019. Right enough, a load of Nazis from the Front, plus the BM \u2018Leader Guard\u2019 \u2013 their biggest, hardest heavies turned up. Although we were probably outnumbered 3 to one, we were all tooled up with bottles, hammers, axes, crow bars and basically we bottled them, stabbed them and smashed their heads to a fuckin pulp. A lot of them were hospitalized and we even stormed the hospital to finish them off but there was too many old bill. There was lots of shit in the papers about it afterwards, even Crass saying they had been sickened by what they\u2019d seen but fuck that – It put a serious fuckin dent not only in the heads of the Nazis but their activities over the next few years. They thought they were the hardest mob on the streets but we showed them they weren\u2019t.<\/p>\n So what would you say is the difference between the Nazis; the NF & BNP now to how it was then? What changed it all?<\/strong><\/p>\n Basically when the Tories got into power they did so by adopting many of the policies \u2013 anti-immigration, unions etc, that had made the NF so popular before so that really took the wind out of their sails a bit. To all intents and purposes the Tories offered the same policies, only without the shaven heads, brown-shirts and street-fights. The NF had always been about the streets, their presence on the streets , spreading their propaganda and fighting with their opponents. Times were much harder then and a lot of the NF were very hard, violent people. You just have to look at the head of the Hoxton NF back then, Derrick Day, a fuckin gorilla with a face covered with razor cuts. He\u2019s the cunt you see climbing out of his window to have a go at the news reporters at the beginning of that \u2018Filth & The Fury\u2019 Sex Pistols film. Very different to\u00a0 Nick Griffin and the sort of university educated types the extreme right like to put up as parliamentary candidates now. The BNP have made some progress by ditching the jack-boots and putting on suits but their politics \u2013 and the politics of all Nazis – are still the same at the end of the day and that\u2019s a day that would end in gas chambers if they ever got into power.<\/p>\n FULL UNEDITED VERSION OF MARTIN LUX INTERVIEW BY CHRIS LOW\u00a0FOR VICE MAGAZINE<\/strong><\/p>\n An excerpt from the book ANTI FACIST concerning the Persons Unknown benefit concert at the Conway Hall organised by Crass:<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n One free Saturday night I was called, asked if I fancied doing door security for a benefit gig. The cause, ‘Persons Unknown’, an aspiring ‘Angry Brigade Mk II’ currently awaiting trial on terrorism charges. I said, \u201cSure, why not.\u201d At least I\u2019d be spared the dreadful punk music of the band Crass who were the main star turn. The gig was being held at the scene of that fatal encounter with the police way back in 1974, Conway Hall, Red Lion Square.<\/p>\n The hopelessness of London Transport ensured that it took me an age to arrive. When eventually I did, an unwelcome sight greeted me. Around forty plus British Movement skinheads had barged in and were gathered inside the main entrance exuding menace. It didn\u2019t take long to evaluate the situation. Hopeless. A dozen of them were large brutes, evil looking bastards, real hardnuts, with another dozen or so inner core. The remainder were merely runty followers, but dangerous if mob-handed or tooled up. The organisation of the gig had collapsed, nazis ruled the roost. The only thing holding them back from rampage was that they were waiting for Crass to come on for the finale, then they\u2019d rush and take the stage. (All in all, an act demanding stern courage as Crass were abject pacifists and didn\u2019t physically retaliate). As I pondered what to do next, I realised that this was our only slim advantage.<\/p>\n Abandoning the door, I tried to further suss out the opposition. Like the bullies they were, the boneheads were amusing themselves by insulting the punters, punks and anarcho-trendies who avoided dialogue or body contact, wise under the circumstances. The BM officer-class stood out from the foot soldiers, with extra shiny pates, many stripes decorating their pug-ugly fizzogs. Indeed, they were the most repulsive specimens of sub-humanity I believe I\u2019d ever seen. Dressed in traditional skinhead regalia, a couple of their leaders were decked out in Crombies and Ben Shermans. The cherry-red steelies were simply itching to perform to the tune of maximum damage. Many of the others were rigged out in bomber jackets. I noticed, most intriguingly, one of them was of mixed race. Clearly a lad with some severe identity problems. But I wasn\u2019t about to wheel out the shrink\u2019s couch, I had to get something together to at least prevent this from being a walkover.<\/p>\n I\u2019d managed to gather around half a dozen lads, most of whom had accompanied me on previous jaunts, could be depended on, and were willing to have a proper go. The trendy anarcho-types were no good in a fight, unless of course, it involved the missus. Besides, they were always hinting, if not stating outright that there was only a marginal difference between us anti-fascists and the nazis themselves. Now faced with such a raw situation, no longer able to afford the luxury of such pontificating, they kept their traps shut.<\/p>\n I was called over to the door, asked to step outside; someone had been enquiring after me by name. Curious, I stepped out into the chill October night to be met by a couple of anti-fascists who were attached to the SWP. I\u2019d joined these characters on many a past expedition against the Master Race. Someone had been on the blower as these lads had everything well-sussed. \u201cCan you keep the lid on it for a couple of hours? We\u2019re gonna get our crew together, steam \u2018em real heavy”\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019ll be difficult,\u201d I mused, \u201cBut I\u2019ll do my best. I know they\u2019re waiting for Crass to go on so they can storm the stage. Crass are headlining, so they won\u2019t be on \u2018till last.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou and your mates don\u2019t mind us having the bastards knowing that Crass won\u2019t get to play?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFar as I\u2019m concerned,\u201d I retorted, \u201cThis gig\u2019s been fucked from the beginning. I don\u2019t give a monkey\u2019s what people think so long as these nazi fuckers get what\u2019s coming to \u2018em. Anyway, you\u2019ll be doing my eardrums a favour. I can\u2019t stand this racket”<\/p>\n They departed for the warmth of a nearby pub. \u201cWe\u2019ll send word when we\u2019re ready. See you outside.\u201d<\/p>\n The SWP, scared of losing control of some of their more volatile, plebeian supporters who really believed in smashing the fascists, had never warmed to this semi-clandestine group. Maybe because these people were ready to link up on the day with anybody on the left, anarchists or anti-fascists who were willing to have a crack at the NF or BM heavies. They\u2019d proved themselves time and again, and I preferred their direct attitude to that of the trendy wankers of the anarchist movement who condemned such behaviour as \u2018macho\u2019. Boring, dull, middle class snobs.<\/p>\n I communicated the plan to my half-dozen confidantes. They seemed well pleased. Our main task was to dampen things down, ensure it didn\u2019t kick off to our disfavour before the appointed time, stop the BM from beating-up and rolling punters in isolated corners. It would be difficult. Within ten minutes word arrived of trouble in the main hall, so in we walked, amidst the migrane-inducing punk noise to see a knot of BM menacing a couple of spiky-hairs. Throwing all caution to the wind, I strode over, separated them from their tormentors and escorted the punks to another part of the building. Naturally, I felt nervous, worried to the extreme. I didn\u2019t fancy a kicking, much less a premature free-for-all in which we\u2019d be massacred. The skins were annoyed at the intervention, pissed-off by my diplomacy as I shunted the punks away to safety. I didn\u2019t get an instant pounding so I guessed I\u2019d been correct to assume that the nazis were saving their aggro for a pre-arranged storming of the stage.<\/p>\n After a short breather, I was summoned to the bogs, and it wasn\u2019t for a closet assignation in a cubicle. \u201cIt\u2019s real trouble, want us to come with you?\u201d<\/p>\n I declined. If we arrived mob-handed, it would kick off. This I didn\u2019t want. \u201cJust wait at the bottom of the stairs. If you hear a big row, come and get me out if you can. If you can\u2019t then I\u2019ll see you in hospital.\u201d<\/p>\n Up the stairs I went, opening the door to be confronted by the sight of one of their leaders and half a dozen crew pinning a young asian lad against the wall. \u201cDon\u2019t fuckin\u2019 argue you FUCKIN\u2019 PAKI CUNT, just give us your money CUNT!\u201d I didn\u2019t have the time to dash and collect an anti-sexist to correct this fellow\u2019s patriarchal attitude. I\u2019d clocked this evil looking brute before, he looked the part, shaven skull, vile white eyebrows, tramlines, psycho eyes. The light reflected off the collected ping-pong heads. No time for fear or anything I plunged in, grabbing the asian lad. \u201cRight you! Making trouble again? Winding these geezers up are we?\u201d I yanked him out from the astounded group, one of whom I\u2019d notice fingering a small blade.<\/p>\n \u201cOi! What\u2019s your fuckin\u2019 game?\u201d snarled their leader.<\/p>\n \u201cSecurity!\u201d I\u2019d managed to extricate the trembling lad to the point of getting as far as the door when a couple more skins entered, opening the door. This allowed me to bundle the lad upstairs.<\/p>\n \u201cSorry mate,\u201d I apologised, \u201cReally sorry about that, sorry about the whole fucking night. Hope you understand.\u201d He did. I remarked. \u201cIt\u2019s a bit like being back at school innit?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, too right guv,\u201d he laughed nervously. I advised him to, \u201cFuck off or find your mates.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was going to meet friends here,\u201d he said, \u201cBut they haven\u2019t shown up yet.\u201d<\/p>\n I reassured him, \u201cLook mate, I shouldn\u2019t be telling you this, but there\u2019s gonna be some right heavy geezers coming here later to sort this lot out. I\u2019m just trying to keep the lid on things.\u201d He took the message and headed home.<\/p>\n An hour to go. Could it be contained? Would the heavy mob show? No time to fret, another incident, this time in the corridor. Same bastard with the albino orangutang eyebrows, same tactics from me, except I had a couple of geezers standing handy in the background. On this occasion they were picking on a geeky-fellow with specs. Or rather who had been wearing glasses, as they were now being ground down under the size-ten cherry reds of the leader who spat into the face of his victim. \u201cI don\u2019t like cunts with Anti-Nazi League badges, you FUCKIN\u2019 RED QUEERBOY!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe ain\u2019t no red, just another fuckin troublemaker who doesn’t know when he’s not welcome,\u201d I said, strolling in to snatch the geek.<\/p>\n White eyebrows wasn\u2019t having any of it. \u201cI\u2019m getting sick and tired of you butting in, CUNT!\u201d<\/p>\n He didn\u2019t lay hands on me, but stood eyeball to eyeball. Just to add to my discomfort his breath didn\u2019t exactly smell of roses. I backed down, refusing to match his aggressive body-language. A large crowd had gathered, taking advantage, I managed to spirit the unhappy geek away, followed by white eyebrows mouthing obscenities: \u201cCUNT! I\u2019m gonna slash you up good an\u2019 fuckin\u2019 proper. Do you hear me? CUNT!\u201d Again, non of the anti-sexists stepped forward to admonish him for his language. Wonder why? By now, this catalogue of incidents had me seething with suppressed anger, fear, frustration, humiliation. At least Eyebrows hadn\u2019t followed up his threats, as he goose-stepped with his crew into yet another drama.<\/p>\n Time certainly didn\u2019t pass quickly as one incident followed another. The gig was going full blast as intimidation was played out in the recesses. Most of the anarchos were in the main concourse, gathered in small groups, looking worried. Apart from the half dozen I\u2019d collected who were tried, tested, willing to have a go, the rest were next to useless. Besides, having endured years of criticism for alleged ‘macho bully boy tactics’ when it came to dealing with the nazis I knew I couldn\u2019t trust that bunch with anything. One of their chicks, who under normal circumstances couldn\u2019t bring herself to speak to me without a prize sneer handed me an iron bar she’d found somewhere. Such generosity. I wasn\u2019t impressed, \u201cWhat do I want that for?\u201d I asked. \u201cLook, I\u2019m already tooled up,\u201d pointing to the trusty crowbar tucked down my pants. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you give it to one of your men? Don\u2019t take much to bop some nazi on the head does it?\u201d She looked at me with a mixture of incomprehension and disgust.<\/p>\n After an eternity, a message from the pub: \u201cGet your lads outside in five minutes, we\u2019ll all pile in together.\u201d At last. Just in time too, as the skins were massing in the concourse prior to rushing the stage. I\u2019d even had a friendly reminder from Eyebrows: \u201cI\u2019m gonna have you myself, later, CUNT!\u201d With Preston, our main nutter, we slipped outside to be met by the other anti-fascists. Here stood a mixture of Cockney Reds in Manchester United scarves and other trusted hard-nuts I knew, meaner looking than most of the thugs inside the hall, and older geezers in no mood for compromise.<\/p>\n \u201cThis all you\u2019ve got?\u201d one of them asked.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d I replied, ashamed of the piss-poor turnout. \u201cBut don\u2019t worry, we\u2019ll have a real go. I\u2019ve got a score to settle, some blonde headed cunt.\u201d I brandished a broken bottle in one hand, crowbar in another.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah haven\u2019t we all,\u201d retorted another voice.<\/p>\n I noticed they were all tooled up and numbered just over a dozen.<\/p>\n \u201cHow many, where are they?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cForty maybe, some tasty, but most will run. One\u2019s got a blade, the rest I don\u2019t know, but I haven\u2019t seen anything.\u201d I told them the majority were now in the concourse.<\/p>\n \u201cGood, well done for keeping it all together\u2026IT’s PARTY TIME!!!.\u201d And with that we all crashed through the doors.<\/p>\n One unlucky bystander who didn\u2019t shift himself quickly enough was the first to suffer, a bottle smashed over his head. Screams of horror went up from the girls, whilst the brave anarcho men fled, or stood rooted to the spot in a state of shock. They hadn\u2019t been warned of the impending floorshow. We hurled ourselves straight into the main body who scattered and ran. Eyebrows and all the hard nuts stood their ground, all to no avail. We were on them, no pity. Me and Preston smashed out bottles into Eyebrows\u2019 head, more tramlines for his collection. Then as Preston jabbed him in the face with the bottle neck, I struck his head with blows from the crowbar. He hit the deck, blood pouring. He then had the pleasure of tasting our boots as we dished out size ten vengeance, kicking his head to a pulp. All around, utter mayhem as bottles flew, crashing into walls, whilst the nazis struggled desperately as they were overwhelmed by a storm of steel capped boots, iron bars, chains, knives, broken bottles. The whole area filled with screams, yells, hundreds of panic-stricken punters tried to flee past the battle scene. Within a minute a heap of semi-conscious bodies lay where they\u2019d fallen, blood splattered on the walls, pools of claret leaking in steady trickles onto the floor. Some nazis were trying to crawl under chairs and tables to escape the kicks of those they\u2019d previously scorned and terrorised. Payback time. By now, the novocaine tingle had frozen my upper lip; the classic adrenaline rush. We split into small groups, chasing the nazis into the main hall and corridors. The \u00fcbers fled in all directions, leaving them vulnerable to our frenzied attack. We smashed them into a pulp; iron bars smacking into heads and bodies. No mercy was shown as we hunted down the heavies, the foot soldiers hurriedly discarding nazi insignia and badges, running for cover. In all the confusion, violence, yells and cries, I noticed the mixed-race geezer ripping off his badge and disappearing out the doors. I let him be. Someone had to live to tell the tale, spread the word to the others. Down the corridor, contrary to fire regulations, the exit doors were bolted shut. A handful of skins rattled the doors, trying to escape. All in vain. Down they went, set upon by the anti-nazis who beat crap out of them. Resistance was useless as they were kicked to fuck. A glorious end to the night. The British Movement Heavy Mob, stormtroopers of the master-race, bloody and battered.<\/p>\n Preston grabbed me, \u201cCome on, let\u2019s split.\u201d Reluctantly, I drew back, my coat flecked with blood, shards of glass gleaming from elbow to hands. We backed out of the corridor. Skins were on their knees, pleading for mercy in the chaos as anti-nazi nutters stood over them, blades drawn. Some of the younger more pathetic nazis were spared cold steel, although all got a good slapping. Other were stabbed and slashed. Nothing fatal, but a life-long reminder of that night\u2019s encounter and the error of their ways. Did I have an ounce of pity, sorrow or remorse for the brutality that unfolded before me? Did I fuck!<\/p>\n The battle in the main hall must have been ferocious for in the dim light I saw prostrate bodies, smashed furniture and a deserted stage. Looked like the gig was off. We both headed for the main exit past a few anarcho drones who were still frozen to the spot as if in a horrified trance. I passed one of the women who\u2019d been a regular tormentor. \u201cRemember you said we were as bad as the nazis? Well it ain\u2019t true\u2026 we\u2019re fuckin\u2019 worse! Goodnight darlin\u2019.\u201d Then out into the night. We\u2019d suffered no casualties apart from a few superficial cuts and bruises. We dumped our tools in the surrounding streets. Lucky it had been a chill autumn otherwise we\u2019d have left behind our dabs. As it was, most of us had been wearing gloves. Police vans drew up. The cops must have been greeted by utter devastation as they entered the hall. We\u2019d all fucked off by then, happy as Larry, some home, others to distant pubs. Never content, even with a crushing victory, some legged it to the tube hoping to pick off the stragglers. I was home a couple of hours later, the phone ringing constantly, my refrain, \u201cYou\u2019ve missed a good one tonight\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n![](\"http:\/\/i192.photobucket.com\/albums\/z149\/pengy1966\/skins2_zps3pps5kdr.png\")
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