Riots, death, retribution

and redemption in
Scotlands infamous prison
Barlinnie is one of the most notorious prisons in the world
and for more than a hundred years it has held Glasgows
toughest and most violent men, swept up from the city streets.
Ten men died on its gallows in the infamous Hanging Shed,
including serial killer Peter Manuel. It has sparked rooftop
protests and cell-block riots, and been home to godfathers
of crime like Arthur Thompson Snr and Walter Norval.
Barlinnie was also the scene of one of the most controversial
experiments in penal history, the Special Unit, where the likes
of Jimmy Boyle and Hugh Collins were at the centre of a
fierce battle between those who see prison as retribution
and those who regard it as a step on the road to
redemption, even for the most evil killers.
Paul Ferris, TC Campbell and gangleaders galore
have languished behind its grim walls and, more than
a hundred years on, Barlinnie still makes headlines.
This is its fascinating, turbulent story.

BLACK & WHITE PUBLISHING

PBB 198x129mm

Cover design: stuartpolsondesign.com

Photograph Getty Images

7.99

17.5mm spine

the barlinnie story

Also by Robert Jeffrey

Gentle Johnny Ramensky
A Boxing Dynasty (with Tommy Gilmour)
Real Hard Cases (with Les Brown)
Crimes Past
Glasgow Crimefighter (with Les Brown)
Glasgows Godfather
Gangs of Glasgow (first published as Gangland Glasgow)
Glasgows Hard Men
Blood on the Streets
The Wee Book of Glasgow
The Wee Book of the Clyde
*
Clydeside People and Places
The Herald Book of the Clyde
Doon the Watter
Images of Glasgow
Scotlands Sporting Heroes (with Ian Watson)

the
barlinnie
story
Riots, Death, Retribution and Redemption
in Scotlands Infamous Prison

ROBERT JEFFREY

BLACK & WHITE PUBLISHING

First published 2009

This edition first published 2011
by Black & White Publishing Ltd
29 Ocean Drive, Edinburgh EH6 6JL
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

11 12 13

ISBN: 978 1 84502 334 8

Copyright Robert Jeffrey, 2011

The right of Robert Jeffrey to be identified as the author

of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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,
electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise,
without permission in writing from the publisher.

The publisher has made every reasonable effort to contact copyright holders
of images in the picture section. Any errors are inadvertent and anyone who,
for any reason, has not been contacted is invited to write to the publisher so that
a full acknowledgment can be made in subsequent editions of this work.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Typeset by Ellipsis Books Limited, Glasgow

Printed and bound by CPI Cox & Wyman, Reading

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

1. FLYING SLATES, BURNING MATTRESSES AND HOSTAGE HELL

2. BULLY BOYS, COLD CUSTARD AND A POWDER KEG

24

3. WAITING FOR A CO-PILOT AND OTHER MISERIES

37

4. HUMAN RATS, CHESS AND OUT THROUGH THE WINDOW

53

5. DIRTY CUPS AND FINDING GOD BEHIND BARS

74

6. DOG BOXES, CHAMBER POTS AND COMPENSATION

90

7. FAMOUS FACES AND DIRTY UNDERWEAR

109

8. BROKEN BATONS, BROKEN HEADS

122

9. TROUBLE IN THE CELLS, TROUBLE IN WESTMINSTER

136

10. DEATH AT THE END OF A ROPE

150

11. THE BSU SO SUCCESSFUL THEY SHUT IT DOWN

175

12. A MURDERER, A BAMPOT AND LIVES TURNED AROUND

195

13. AT WAR IN THE BAR-L ON LAND AND SEA

208

14. THE ELECTRIC CHAIR AND PLUGGING IN TO HISTORY

222

BARLINNIE TIMELINE

235

GOVERNORS OF BARLINNIE PRISON

237

INDEX

239

I would like to thank the friendly and efficient staff of the

Glasgow Room in the Mitchell Library for their help in
the production of this book. Also Bill McKinlay, former
Governor of Barlinnie, his secretary Jane OBrien, current
Governor Derek McGill, Ron Ferguson, Dr Grant Jeffrey
and a legion of lawyers, lawbreakers, prison officers and
policemen.
RJ
Carradale, Argyll

To the men and women of the Scottish Prison Service

introduction

Iconic. That is the word for Barlinnie, Scotlands largest jail,

aka the Bar-L. The former Governor, Bill McKinlay, jocularly
reckons that worldwide the name is better known than
Edinburgh Castle. Though let there be no doubt that Barlinnie
is no tourist attraction despite the huge numbers of repeat visitors. This massive sandstone edifice, in the east end of Glasgow,
was opened in 1882 and the newspapers of the time remarked
on the light colour of the stone it was built from, which was
said to shine in the summer sun.
Over the years the stone has turned to a grimy black and
the sunshine of hope that saw the massive building project as
a solution to overcrowding in Glasgows Victorian prisons has
withered. Barlinnie has been, almost from the moment it opened,
overcrowded. It is still in 2011 clearly, in the phrase of the day,
not fit for purpose. In particular because that purpose is much
more than incarceration. We are not here, said Bill McKinlay,
just to take peoples freedom away. Were here to be facilitators and to allow people to change. Those, that is, who have
the will to change.
Bill McKinlay is a vastly experienced member of the prison
service. Everything he knows from his long service in all sorts
of jails and in many different roles underlines his belief that
HMP Barlinnie should be blitzed by the wreckers ball and a
new start made in Glasgow in a new prison. He is not the first
to think that way and he is not alone. He acknowledges that
1

THE BARLINNIE STORY

there are those who argue that these sandstone monoliths must
still be useful if for no other reason than they are still standing.
Well, so are the pyramids. But no one has been buried inside
them for some time, former Governor McKinlay points out
wryly.
In the ongoing Barlinnie story thousands have been buried,
and are continuing to be buried, in the great, echoing halls.
Cast out from society, sentenced to pay for their crimes in one
of the toughest, most infamous prisons in the world. Alcatraz,
the Bangkok Hilton, Folsom, Strangeways, Pentridge, the Scrubs
. . . Barlinnie has an infamous place high in the list of the
worlds most fearsome jails. And still, day after day, the buses
now owned by a private company ferry the guilty from
some of the busiest courts in the world through the crowded
streets of Glasgow to begin their time. But its no consolation
to those who are in a living hell that they are part of the ongoing
history of one of the worlds iconic prisons.
That history is a strange mixture of villainy, humanity, tragedy,
drama and hope. The hope is that the future for this grim place,
and those incarcerated in it, will improve. That somehow the
hope of the Victorians who built it will turn to reality, the hope
that redemption will finally triumph over revenge. There is,
however, no great grounds for optimism since for most of its
120 or so years of life Barlinnie has been a permanently overcrowded and, until as recently as 2002 when slopping out ended,
an unsanitary repository for thousands of lawbreakers. If hope
is a contentious issue, the drama surrounding Barlinnie is undeniable. Down the years the prison has sparked thousands of
headlines. Drama and danger go with the job, as those in the
prison service who are charged by society to look after the
villains know only too well.
This Barlinnie Story is not a formal or indeed a chronological
history of the prison it is an unofficial, perhaps sometimes idiosyncratic, attempt to chronicle some of the momentous events
in the long turbulent life of an establishment that is infamous
2

INTRODUCTION

worldwide. And an attempt to let ordinary Glaswegians, who

have never darkened the doors of any prison and are never
likely to, get a taste of what life was like down the years for
prison officers who fostered their careers in the Big Hoose in
the east end, as well as for the men who festered there, sometimes taking the short walk from the condemned cell to the
gallows.
There is no shortage of drama escapes, hangings, unrest,
political prisoners, a groundbreaking and visionary experiment
in prison reform, humanity and brutality. All these are part of
the story and the history of Barlinnie.

1
Flying Slates, Burning
Mattresses and Hostage Hell

The happenings in the east end of Glasgow one week in January

1987 were as spectacular as anything seen in the jail since it
opened its doors to the citys villains in the 1880s. Many insiders,
and those who had read the Prison Inspectorates reports with
diligence, were not surprised at the violent outbreak of disorder.
They had seen it coming. But one of the officers who was on
the front line in the chaotic battle to secure the prison told me
that he and his colleagues were not ready for the scale of what
happened. In fact most of those who had read the warning
signs were taken aback by the enormity of the 87 riot the
longest lasting siege in the history of Scottish prisons.
When the pressure pot that was Barlinnie finally blew its
top, the confrontation between prisoners and staff was violent,
dangerous and potentially deadly. The newspapers broke the
story on the morning of Tuesday, 6 January 1987, though anyone
in the vicinity of the prison on the Monday could have seen
the drama first hand as cons on the roof threw slates at the
prison officers. Even concrete blocks prised from the floors
were dropped on officers in riot gear by prisoners who had
wrecked large areas of the jail and smashed their way into the
pharmacy in search of drugs.
5

THE BARLINNIE STORY

Inevitably the early reports were confused as to exactly when

the riot started and what was really going on behind those
high, thick walls of age-blackened sandstone. For five dark,
cold midwinter days the story unfolded in a hotchpotch of
lurid headlines, speculation, leader articles, features and spectacular pictures. It was big news worldwide. The press and
television had a field day this was a prison riot on their
doorsteps, as spectacular as anything Hollywood could dream
up, a potential life and death struggle between some of the
hardest men in Scotland and their jailors.
It was a fairly hysterical few days as the press reported or
sometime guessed at the twists and turns in the drama, day
by day. Illustrative of the intensity of the media coverage was
the fact that after a helicopter and film crew had flown over
Barlinnie, the Scottish Office successfully applied to the Civil
Aviation Authority for a ban on flights over the prison. They
claimed the flights were interrupting negotiations. Aye, right,
as they say in Glasgow. A more serious matter was the news
the prisoners were getting from the radio on the progress of
the riot and at one stage Radio Clyde and BBC Radio Scotland
imposed a seven-hour news blackout as it was believed the
airing of too much detail could hamper talks between the two
warring sides, then at a delicate stage.
A measure of the press hysteria was the number of bylines
on the stories coming out in the papers day after day during
the siege. In the eighties it had become quite normal for such
as the Daily Express and Daily Record to run major news stories
with anything up to ten reporters bylined. On occasion they
even used the phrase Record or Express team at the top of the
story and at the end of the tale a list of those involved in
compiling it was given. This was in the days when news desks
still had bundles of money to throw at the coverage of a big
6

FLYING SLATES, BURNING MATTRESSES AND HOSTAGE HELL

story, the golden days before TV became king of news coverage.

For the Barlinnie riot even the douce old Herald (then the Glasgow
Herald) had a double byline on the first reports from the prison,
the reporters, long time stalwarts Auslan Cramb and Maurice
Smith, both major players in Herald history. But later in the
week the broadsheets, even the broadsheet Herald, succumbed
to the multiple byline as the story grew ever important. Other
legendary Herald men like Barclay McBain, John Easton, Bill
McDowall and Andy McCallum were soon enjoying their bylines
at the top of the dozens of stories in the paper each day featuring
the riot. This was the BIG story.
In these days the Herald had a rather distant, superior attitude to its rivals. I remember from my days on the paper that
the prevalent attitude was not to worry about missing a story,
you just ran it the day after the tabloids, after all nothing really
happened till the Herald printed it! Or so some who had been
with the paper a tad too long thought. A remarkable little insight
into this attitude came about when the first sputnik was
launched. The newspapers of the day reacted as if little green
men had landed on Earth. The Herald took it calmly, dismissing
early wire stories as unconfirmed reports and catching up on
the historic event in leisurely fashion the next day.
Incidentally the Record was, and probably still is, the paper
of choice for the inmates though these days the Sun runs it
close. Their faith in it was solid and not just based on the tales
of the Old Firm, Celtic and Rangers, that covered the sports
pages. Respect is a great word much in use by lawbreakers and
the tabloid had earned the respect of the criminal classes, no
doubt due to the space it gave to cover the constant Glasgow
crime war between the gangs and the cops. And the in-depth
knowledge the papers news desk and reporters had on the
goings-on of the bad guys. This respect was so strong that a
7

THE BARLINNIE STORY

Record man had been called to help the authorities in the negotiations at riots at Saughton and Peterhead the year before the
Barlinnie siege. In the late eighties the prison service was close
to anarchy. In the 87 Bar-L siege the prisoners shouted from
the roof to the crowds below that they wanted to speak to a
Record man. It didnt happen. This was an era of trouble in
most of Scotlands penal institutions and the press guys were
deployed with regularity to the countrys prisons. So much so
that some of the reporters who had covered the other riots now
gave serious thought to producing a T-shirt with the slogan:
Scottish Prison Tour 8687 Saughton, Peterhead and Barlinnie.
But in reality there was little to be humorous about.
The Peterhead riot was a major incident and one prison officer,
John Crossan, was held hostage along with more than 40 inmates
by a group of three prisoners. This siege in the prison up on
the cold north-east coast, which lasted for four days, created a
Scottish prison record for such an event though a few months
later the undesirable record for the longest siege passed to
Barlinnie. The riot in P-head, as the prisoners call it, ended in
a blaze that caused half a million pounds of damage. Talking
to Barlinnie staff who had been involved in the five-day siege
they wondered if, looking back, a desire to break the record
was a factor in prolonging the disturbance. Certainly, once the
record was broken, the Barlinnie riot collapsed pretty quickly.
The Peterhead happenings had come less than a fortnight
after a three-day siege at Saughton in Edinburgh when five
men held a prison officer at knifepoint before giving themselves up. The trouble at these two establishments had been
put down to alleged brutality against the inmates. And the
same accusation was to become central to the investigation of
the trouble in the Bar-L. All the media hullabaloo round the
87 riot meant that a clear and concise picture of what really
8

FLYING SLATES, BURNING MATTRESSES AND HOSTAGE HELL

happened would take years to emerge. The calm legal language

used in the HM Inspector of Prisons report of 1990 was as cool
as some of the newspaper reports of the incident, as the authorities liked to call it, was overwrought. It stated the facts: On
5 January 1987, following a number of seemingly unrelated
incidents during the day, a major incident began in B-Hall
[holding convicted prisoners] at 19.35 hours which was not
resolved till the morning of 10 January. During the incident
massive damage was done to the hall; staff were trapped in
cells and other areas; fires were started to try to burn staff out
of cells; and five staff were taken hostage. In the event, two of
the hostages were freed or freed themselves within a very short
time, and the others were released on the 8th and 9th of January
respectively. The incident concluded with the surrender of a
core group of 12 inmates at 09.28 on 10 January.
Surrender a lovely word for the authorities to use! But for
a few days it looked more like no surrender as convicts in
balaclavas or improvised hoods with eyeholes cut into them,
sometimes made from blackened pillowcases, roamed the roof
tossing down slates to the great danger of anyone on the ground.
The rioters had control over the top floor of B-Hall, hence the
easy access to the tiles. They shouted and screamed abuse at
their jailers, the world in general and the then Governor Andrew
Gallacher in particular. They also hung sheets over the walls
and between the chimneys with slogans like Slasher Gallagher
and brutality.
The early stories in the Herald were calm, as you would expect,
and it took a day or two for Scotlands leading broadsheet to
work up to the full fury expressed by its tabloid rivals, though
when it did so it did it powerfully, including a particularly long
leader, even for the Herald, analyzing why the Scottish prison
system was in the state it was in. But the first words were
9

THE BARLINNIE STORY

matter of fact. On 6 January the lead story began: Rioting prisoners threw slates from the roof of Barlinnie prison, Glasgow,
early today and made allegations of brutality at the jail. One
prison officer was injured after trouble broke out at B-Hall and
up to 20 inmates were said to be involved. At one point seven
men, two of them masked, could be seen on the roof. One
claimed to be a hostage. The trouble is believed to have started
at 8pm after a day of minor incidents.
There are a couple of skewed details in this early report: the
trouble had started nearly 12 hours earlier than suggested and
the incidents were far from minor.
The report went on: A group of prisoners on the top floor
of B-Hall later threw missiles at prison officers. When the
wardens retreated, the group barricaded itself on the top floor.
Some made their way to the roof. The Scottish Office press
team was about to start one of the busiest weeks in their history
and they started with a predictably negative statement that
seemed to run in the face of the facts. They denied that any
hostages had been taken, though one of the men on the roof
said he was being held against his will and that he had just
four weeks of his sentence to serve. Another protester shouted
down from the roof that hostages were being held inside the
hall.
The next day the picture of what was happening inside the
prison became clearer. By now there was talk of three officers
being held hostage. The seriousness of what was going on
could not be played down by the Scottish Office or the prison
authorities and as darkness fell one of the hostages was paraded
on the roof of B-Hall. A homemade knife was held at his throat
and he screamed, They are going to kill me. Maybe it was
something to do with the bitter cold of a January night in
Glasgow but, in any case as the light faded, the prisoners claimed
10

FLYING SLATES, BURNING MATTRESSES AND HOSTAGE HELL

from the roof, shouting to the throng of pressmen and police

below, that they had reached an agreement with the authorities that there would be no more violence that night.
The Scottish Office then named the three men held: David
Flanagan, 28; Andrew Smith, 23; and John Kearney, 40. It was
said negotiations for their release were being conducted with
the inmates who had earlier trapped 41 officers on the top floor
of B-Hall. Their bosses said all three men were married and
were experienced officers. These three and two others had
barricaded themselves in a cell on the third floor of the hall to
escape the violence of the disturbance on the first night. But
the prisoners had broken into the cell and grabbed them, though
the other two were released unharmed. The Scottish Office was
now briefing the press in some detail and after the peace pledge
of the second night they announced that 120 of the 188 longand short-term prisoners in B-Hall had left it. Many of remaining
prisoners were out of their cells milling about and were given
tea and sandwiches.
The leaders of the group involved in the hostage situation,
about 24 strong, claimed, the prison officers have backed out
and there will be no violence from the prisoners. Agreement
has been reached on this. This is a peaceful protest but we are
prepared to stay here until our demands are met. We would
like to reiterate that the prison officers are being kept in good
conditions, the best we can give them. The rooftop spokesman
then shouted to reporters that the officers wanted messages
passed to their families saying they were all right. It was a
frightening, sinister and surreal scene with the prisoners masked
and wearing bed sheets as cloaks. The spokesman then calmly
told the reporters, It has been a long day for all of us and you
must be cold. I would like to say that is all for tonight. We will
be out again at dawn.
11

THE BARLINNIE STORY

This bizarre press conference had been preceded by a sortie

by prison officers into the hall that helped free 27 of the 41
trapped, but it was no soft touch flying slates, bottles and
other makeshift weapons injured 34 of the officers. Three were
so severely hurt they had to go to the Royal Infirmary, one man
with a broken ankle and others with cuts and bruises. Detectives
had been dispatched to the Royal to interview the injured and
the police had also set up an incident room at Baird Street
police station to collate information on what was going on at
the prison.
The situation inside the prison in the early days was almost
impossible for anyone on the outside to visualise. Today Dale
Elliot is First Line Manager in the prison, a pleasant, humorous,
fit looking man in a crisp white shirt, proud of the two pips
on his shoulders, sitting in his office in front of the inevitable
computer, competently answering telephone queries from his
staff. Back in 1987 he was a prison officer with just a few years
experience. Nothing had prepared him for what was to happen
that week in the jail. Some say the trouble had been brewing
for months, which may be the case, but Dale says the officers
there on the day were truly taken by surprise by the riot. And
even now no one can pinpoint with certainty what exactly
started the mass violence, though there are theories galore. It
came like a lightning strike out of a clear sky. Though inside
the dark world of Barlinnie you dont see too much of that. In
these days there was little contingency planning and training
for an outbreak of violence such as happened that bitterly cold
week in January.
The first Dale heard of what was going on in the prison and
on the roof was in a late-night phone call to his home and on
the first morning he was there at five along with fellow officers from Barlinnie and elsewhere. He was to be on duty in
12

FLYING SLATES, BURNING MATTRESSES AND HOSTAGE HELL

this major emergency for many long, dangerous hours. What

Dale saw on entering B-Hall was a nightmare rubbish and
debris piled up on the stairs, blocking access to the top floor
where the hard core of the rioters was holed up. Stones, slates,
woodwork, mattresses anything the prisoners could lay their
hands on was hurled on to the stairs. The warders were
marshalled much of the time by a well known and highly experienced Barlinnie officer, Bob Mutch, who, with other senior
officers, was trying to create some sense of order in a nightmare environment.
Working to try and clear this mess was dangerous as well
as arduous. The scene was chaotic and confused. Makeshift
missiles flew about the heads of the warders. It was, says
Dale, a miracle that no one was killed, though plenty of blood
did flow. Brave, says Dale, is the only adjective for the guys
who were trying to restore order. Their stamina was also tested
many stayed in the jail for up to 56 hours without a break.
At home their families waited and wondered though Dale says
there was a great support network with wives of warders looking
out for themselves and each other, starved of real news about
what was going on. But they knew the danger that faced their
guys in the front line.
Even in the midst of all this there was a touch of prison humour.
Dale recalls that the rioters holding the hostages gorged on
crisps, Mars bars and juice looted from the prison supplies.
Naturally the pharmacy and the canteen had been early targets
for the rioters. However, as later reports confirmed, the hostages
were not too brutally treated though a rioter gave a tough warning
to one: Stop eating all our Mars bars or we will give you back!
While all this was going on in B-Hall the staff were trying
to maintain some normality in the rest of the prison. Dale remembers, rather surprisingly, that in that perverse way of Scots,
13

THE BARLINNIE STORY

many of the prisoners in the other great halls who were not
involved in the riots but were aware of what was going on,
were almost on their best behaviour, showing some solidarity
with the warders.
One tale underlines the fact that even at the height of the
riot and afterwards some inmates did not share the feeling of
the mob who were hanging sheets from the rooftop with Slasher
Gallacher emblazoned on them. Not long after the riot was
over there was a prison concert and a skit in which one of the
cons appeared dressed up as Governor Andrew Gallacher. The
audience rewarded this appearance with a deadly silence, but
the so-called Slasher Gallacher, every eye on him, simply
burst out laughing. And so then did the audience.
There had been violent mood swings from the protesters in
the early days of the protest. After the so-called peace pledge
for the night made at that bizarre press conference, fire hoses
had been trained on the roof but they were switched off swiftly
when shouts from the roof claimed, Guys are going to be fucked
about if you dont turn the water off. The authorities did so
and claimed the hoses had only been intended to flush loose
slates and debris off the roof.
Tempers and emotions were running high. A humane side
to the protest surfaced briefly with the release of a prison officer
who was a diabetic and urgently needed insulin. In contrast,
the bright lights turned on the protestors angered them to the
point that the press corps was showered with stones and slates,
one hitting Herald photographer Arthur Kinloch. But the reason
behind the riot was now slowly beginning to emerge. During
the day the prisoners spokesman repeated allegations about
brutality in the prison system. This theme was echoed in the
three banners that were hanging from the upper parts of BHall. One read, in a reference to the governor, Gallagher is
14

FLYING SLATES, BURNING MATTRESSES AND HOSTAGE HELL

brutality; a second read To the death and the third said Sammy
Ralston was tortured. Ralston, nicknamed The Bear and a
long-time thorn in the flesh of the prison authorities, was
convicted on a robbery charge and was serving six years. He
had previously staged a solo rooftop protest in November 86
while on remand on the robbery charge. The protestors claimed
that he had been beaten with sticks and gagged to muffle his
screams. Ralstons mother travelled to the jail to see him,
convinced that if he was alright, I could tell the boys on the
roof. She was not allowed to do so.
Whatever the truth about the treatment of Ralston it was
now the turn of the prison staff to suffer a form of torture.
During the second day of the siege, prisoners had set fire to a
mattress and yelled that they had trapped prison staff behind
the blaze. It was chilling stuff: We had them screaming for
mercy. We gave them it. We put out the fire. We wont do it
next time. The rioters then brought a succession of riot shields,
batons and a riot helmets through the hole they had knocked
in the roof and held them up as trophies. This was no doubt
an attempt to convince the press that they had won the equipment in a battle with the staff. The authorities thought the
trophies more likely came from a storeroom in B-Hall.
Rather ironically the Scottish Home Affairs minister, Ian Lang,
had been due to visit the prison that day but urgent government business took him elsewhere. However he went on TV
to say that any prisoner alleging brutality could have complaints
investigated by the police or the procurator fiscal, acting independently of the prison service. He also defended the prison
services record and said a lot was being done to rehabilitate
prisoners. He also played down the stories of overcrowding in
comments that seemed to fly in the face of the facts. On the
brutality allegations, the secretary of the Scottish Prison Officers
15

THE BARLINNIE STORY

Association, John Renton, said: I ask you to consider this. Thirtyfour of my members have been injured. I have heard no reports
of prisoners being hurt. Its nonsense. So ended the second
day.
The Herald had now decided that the trouble at the Bar-L (and
Peterhead and Saughton before it) was now grave enough to
earn what the papers staff called a long leader. It was a good
one that did not miss the mark. Ian Lang was not alone in
pointing out that prisoners could complain to the police or the
procurator fiscal. The then director of the Scottish Prison Service,
Alistair Thompson, had made similar remarks at the time of
the Saughton and Peterhead incidents. To describe such remarks
as ingenuous would be charitable, thundered the paper. The
paper wanted reforms aimed not at just suppressing the recurrent violence but removing its causes. Good sound sense. To
do this, it pointed out, would be very much in the interests not
just of the prisoners but also of the prison officers and the public,
which pays 200 a week for each of the 5,000 prisoners in
Scottish jails.
On 8 January, three days after the start of the saga, it took
a sinister twist fire raising. Not this time in the prison but
at the home of an officer who had been involved in the
Peterhead siege, John Crossan. He lived just a couple of miles
from Barlinnie in Haghill. Mr Crossan, his brother and his
parents had a lucky escape. His mother smelled smoke seeping
into the flat and called the fire brigade. Officers using breathing
equipment rescued the family and neighbours across the
landing. It all highlighted the dangers, on and off duty, faced
by prison officers. Tempers were running high in the underworld as each day the papers and television showed the
dramatic scenes of the rooftop siege. John Crossan, who himself
16

FLYING SLATES, BURNING MATTRESSES AND HOSTAGE HELL

had been held hostage in the Peterhead siege, found time to

sympathise, in the midst of his familys plight, with that of
the Barlinnie hostages. I feel for them because I know what
they are going through. I can only pray that they get out all
right.
Back at the prison the authorities moved to cut off the inmates
contacts with the outside world in an attempt to break the
deadlock. By now 26 inmates were holding three officers hostage.
The flocks of journalists covering the story from the doorstep
of the prison were moved out of shouting range, 300 yards or
so down the road from the prison entrance. Visits to prisoners
and hostages were stopped. Earlier there had been emotional
scenes when the wife of a protesting prisoner had turned up
outside the prison walls complete with baby in pushchair. It
was the sort of touch you might have expected in a Victorian
melodrama, not during a potentially deadly siege. You are
only making it worse for yourself. Please come down. Ronnie,
I love you, she shouted through tears to her husband. You are
going to get hell. Think of the weans.
Her husband shouted back from the roof: Dont worry about
me. I will be all right. Worry about the weans. He then
announced to all and sundry that his was an individual protest,
he was not with the mass of the rioters, and that he had been
the victim of a police fit up, not a unique claim in Barlinnie.
His wife was led away in tears but returned later in a second
failed attempt to talk her husband down. The Sun, always
quick with memorable headlines, labelled their story on this
touching little scene Come doon, Ron, Ron, Ron!
A more cerebral comment on this episode in the riot came
more than ten years later in a first-class little book by Ewan
McVicar (published by Glasgow City Libraries) entitled One
Singer One Song, a collection of Glasgow folk songs. The writers
17

THE BARLINNIE STORY

of Screws Barlinnie Blues were Jim McKenna, what the

habitus of folk clubs call a floor singer, and a mate George
Smith. A couple of verses ran:
A wee Glasgow woman came pushin her pram
Roarin and screaming up at a masked man.
Hey Ronnie ya eedgit come doon when you can
Sos I can go hame to ma bed.
But Ronnie was roarin back down to his wife
Get hame to your mother and get on with your ain life,
Big Slasher is up here and hes wieldin a big knife
I wish I was back in my cell.
Subsequent verses in this clever bit of songwriting referred to
Sammy The Bear Ralston and his troubles with the prison
officers. Typical Glasgow humour and music making!
At one stage earlier in the day there had been hopes that the
siege was about to end. Eight prisoners gave themselves up
voluntarily. Any optimism around also got a boost when the
prisoners appeared willing to give hostage Andrew Smith up
in a deal involving Sammy Ralston. Andrew Smith had been
led onto the roof to make a plea for his life and that of David
Flanagan and John Kearney. He used a megaphone captured
by the prisoners during the siege to say: Please dont send
anyone in our lives are going to be in danger. He told reporters
that the hostages were all fine. The prisoners were aware that
this was the day Sammy The Bear Ralston was making an
appearance in Glasgow Sheriff Court on an unconnected civil
matter. And indeed he did appear in court with stitching and
heavy bruising apparent to the public. The offer made by the
prisoners was that they would free Officer Smith if they were
18

FLYING SLATES, BURNING MATTRESSES AND HOSTAGE HELL

allowed to see Ralston in B Block for themselves. The offer was

given some consideration.
But the mood of the mob on the roof swung again when
the periodic chants, songs and threats were silenced as the
inmates listened on a small transistor radio to reports from
the court that confirmed Ralstons appearance. The megaphone was back in action: The man was all bruised in court,
dished out by the fascist brigade. Ralstons family were similarly angry. His mother Agnes said: When the riot started I
asked myself why are they doing this? Then I learned my
son had been beaten up and stretchered out of B-Hall. She
claimed that other prisoners had seen him and that this is
what started the protest. Agnes Ralston went on: It is hard
to ask them to come down when you see the state of Sams
face. They are frightened to come off the roof in case it happens
to them.
These were comments from outside the prison walls. But
wearing heavy prison clothing in the bitter cold and flaunting
captured riot helmets, the protestors continued in the same vein.
There is brutality throughout this prison. We demand an inquiry
a public inquiry, not an internal one, not a whitewash. We
have human rights like everyone else. We are not exactly angels
but that does not give them the right to treat us the way they
do. We will only come out on stretchers.
During the entire day negotiations were being conducted by
specially trained prison officers working in shifts and shouting
up at the rioters high above them on the roof. As in all such
situations, rumours abound. At one stage the talks break down,
at another they make progress. For anyone not directly involved
it is difficult to really know what is going on. One development was that the hostages were seen to take hot drinks given
to them. The prison authorities were trying to play tough but
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THE BARLINNIE STORY

supplies of heating, lighting and water were maintained to BHall.

The next day brought some real hope for the first time that
the siege might end. The 16 inmates barricaded in B-Hall agreed
to release Andrew Smith, one of the three officers being held
hostage. This was in return for a promise of food. Right at the
start of the siege, on the Monday, the rooftop rioters claimed
to have enough food for a month, but by the Wednesday they
were hungry and the provision of food was a negotiating tool
for the authorities. So Andrew Smith was given up in return
for food for the other two hostages and the rioters. Mr Smith
was reunited with his wife and examined by a medical man
and told his colleagues that he had not been physically harmed.
Earlier in the day soup and sandwiches had been sent in for
hostages and their captors alike. But as the cold January hours
passed, something a little more in the way of what Glaswegians
would call a meal was required.
By nightfall after the release of Andrew Smith, the inmates
and remaining hostages, David Flanagan and John Kearney,
were seen tucking into large plates of the much favoured
Glasgow culinary classic, pie, beans and chips. In another
gesture, the rioters let the authorities pass letters from their
wives to the hostages. The action and drama in the prison itself
was now being shared with the involvement of the courts and
politicians of all stripes.
As the macabre scene was played out on the rooftop of the
great prison, the procurator fiscals office and Strathclyde police
were investigating accusations and counter accusations of
assaults at the start of the siege. It was no surprise that Sammy
Ralston, held in another of the prisons great halls, was involved.
The cops said they were investigating an alleged assault on
him and separately the fiscals office issued a warrant for his
20

FLYING SLATES, BURNING MATTRESSES AND HOSTAGE HELL

arrest in connection with an assault on a prison officer.

The ban on visits was lifted that night to let Ralstons mother
into the jail to see her son. She stayed for an hour, around
teatime, and emerged to tell ITVs News at Ten that her son did
not support the protest, though the perpetrators of the violence
claimed to be demonstrating in his favour. They are only
wasting their time, she said. He doesnt like to see them up
on the roof. That Ralston was simply an excuse for the rioters
seemed to be confirmed by reports that were now coming out
of the prison on how the riots started. It was a trivial event
that led to the most dramatic episode in the prisons long history.
A row over some minor matter in the dining hall early on
Monday morning had erupted into a full scale riot in a prison
where, at the time, there was pent-up rage and anger, especially amongst the long-term prisoners.
After the siege was over, reports were to confirm that the
mood in the prison had been ugly and dangerous for months,
a mood fuelled by reports of unrest and riots in Saughton and
Peterhead. There was no need for prisoners to have an ear to
any grapevine to have their concerns heightened the newspapers and television had been full of tales of trouble in the
prison system for months.
It was reported during the riot that the start of it had been
that incident in the dining hall. An officer trying to intervene
had been hit over the head with a chair in true Wild West
saloon fashion and other officers carried an inmate screaming
and shouting away from the dining area. Mayhem broke out
and other officers were hurt. The cause may have been trivial
but the event was major.
After the end of the riot and the conclusion of the many
trials and reports, newspapers were able to publish pictures of
the devastation in B-Hall at the start and during the siege. The
21

THE BARLINNIE STORY

judge at the trial of some of the men involved called what was
going on a torrent of violence. The photographs graphically
showed the damage smashed cupboards, a floor littered with
slates, lockers torn to bits, tea urns wrecked, furniture and
crockery destroyed. The Sunday Mail had one remarkable picture
of a hole in a wall of a cell. It had been dug out by trapped
warders terrified that they were going to be burnt to death.
Fearing berserk prisoners would set fire to mattresses placed
against the cell doors, the officers frantically tried to escape,
clawing at the walls with bare hands and makeshift tools. Their
frantic efforts were accompanied by shouts from the cons of,
We are going to get you, you bastards. This led to a desperate,
violent struggle between prisoners and guards and caused many
of the injuries sustained by the officers. A total of 34 men were
hurt, some seriously, others suffering minor injuries in what
was virtually hand-to-hand fighting. Eventually they ran to
safety through a hail of missiles thrown at them from above.
Some did not make it. They became hostages.
The release of Andrew Smith was followed late on the
Thursday with a second hostage, David Flanagan, being handed
back to the authorities as a gesture of goodwill and this was
followed some hours later with the final hostage, John Kearney,
being allowed to join his colleagues outside the beleaguered BHall. This happened after supplies of hot food and drink had
been sent into the prison for the remaining rioters, now reduced
to eleven, as four had left their redoubt earlier.
The riot was over, ending peacefully with a cuppa as the
papers said. After five days of drama and violence the end was
remarkably low key with comforting words shared over a cup
of tea with Father John McGinley. The prisoners had asked to
see a chaplain. The authorities had agreed that the protesters
would be examined medically, given access to their lawyers
22

FLYING SLATES, BURNING MATTRESSES AND HOSTAGE HELL

and visits from their families. But there was to be one final act
of defiance shortly after nine on the Friday morning, the last
rump of the rioters clambered back on to the roof for the last
time to sing We shall overcome before returning to the wrecked
hall to effectively surrender.
The wonder of it was that no one had died; no one was seriously hurt. No doubt chaplains, prison officers, some of the
prisoners, and the public, who had been watching the drama
play out for almost a week, thanked God for that.

23

2
BULLY BOYS, COLD CUSTARD
AND A POWDER KEG

The end of Scotlands longest siege of its kind (110 hours as

opposed to 92 the previous year in Peterhead) posed the
inevitable question: why did it happen? The public perception
was largely that it was all down to the alleged brutality of
warders dealing with difficult prisoners. It was a popular pubtalk theory. Everyone was airing his or her thoughts on the
cause, especially folk who had never seen the inside of a prison
other than on television. In the aftermath of an infamous episode
in the history of the great prison everyone was suddenly an
expert on penal matters.
In the days immediately after the surrender of the rioters,
an insider effectively knocked on the head the notion that it
was all down to brutality by officers by saying that it was not
as simple as a few rogue officers, the bad apples of the prison
service, attacking some of the wild men in their charge. Tom
Brown, one of the most respected commentators on current
affairs in Scotland, then working for the Record, interviewed a
man with another take on what caused the riot in Barlinnie
and the previous, similar, disturbances in Peterhead and
Saughton. The interviewee was described as an old lag, but it
was said you could never tell that to look at him. This was an
24

BULLY BOYS, COLD CUSTARD AND A POWDER KEG

expert in the penal system, a man now successfully going

straight who had done time in Scotlands toughest jails and
also in Wandsworth and Albany in England. The Record called
him Steve and he minced no words: The riots were not caused
by brutality from warders or the harsh regime. They were caused
by men who live by violence in or out of prison.
It was a well reasoned piece by a man with front line experience of the penal system. He must have surprised many who
want prison regimes liberalised when he said: Of all the prisons
I was in, those with the most liberal regime where prisoners
were not closely supervised and where you might not see an
officer for hours were by far the worst to serve time in.
Most prisoners keep their head down when inside, some will
console themselves with the old mantra of the lawbreaker, if
you do the crime, you do the time. When career criminals
embarked on a life of villainy they knew the risks. Many old
lags have told me that this is the most effective way to do your
porridge, keep your nose clean and take advantage of every
chance of education and entertainment you get when in the
nick. Aim at the earliest possible release. Steve seemed to share
this philosophy. According to him the jails with the easy going
regimes were where what he called the bully boys ruled and
the weakest of the prisoners go to the wall.
He also pointed out that prisons have areas set aside for
inmates seeking protection under Rule 43, which is designed
to give safe haven to prisoners who feel threatened by their
companions behind bars. Under Rule 43 he claimed he had
never seen such a section empty. He added, It says something
about life in jail that prisoners have to seek protection from
their own kind. But I have never yet heard of a prisoner having
to seek protection from the staff. I have seen and heard a lot
of violent behaviour. Often I have seen prisoners assault other
25

THE BARLINNIE STORY

prisoners for no good reason. But I have never heard of staff

making an UNPROVOKED attack on a prisoner.
His view was that most prison officers are ordinary men
doing a thankless job with the best of intentions. He said that
in every case he had heard of, where prisoners and staff were
in physical conflict, there was always a reason. He told of officers being drenched by the contents of a prisoners chamber
pot and you can hardly blame them for being a bit tough
with a guy who does that.
Steve had also seen first hand how difficult it is for staff to
restrain an inmate bent on mayhem, going bersie as they say.
People get hurt on both sides of the dispute. A prison chaplain confirmed that to me with memories of seeing prison incidents where, say half a dozen officers were trying to control
a couple of guys running wild. In such a melee officers could
hurt each other. These days officers are much better trained in
restraint techniques, to the benefit of prisoner and officer.
Steve introduced what some might say was a racial element.
He claimed that life was easier in English prisons because the
inmates there had mostly committed crimes for profit while in
Scotland many inmates were simply classic hard men who
fought for the hell of it. Sometimes these hard men would coerce
fellow inmates to join them in a violent struggle against
authority. Especially if the hard man was in for years and had
little to lose. Steves verdict on the cause of the riot of 87 was
simple. Blame the prison bully boys.
It was a pertinent point, but it shared the media attention
with some rather complacent political views from people who
ought to have known better. No one, not even the pub experts,
believed that overcrowding in jails was the only reason for the
tension and unrest. But it seems odd, at this distance in time,
to suggest that overcrowding was not a contributory factor,
26

BULLY BOYS, COLD CUSTARD AND A POWDER KEG

especially since this was still in the era of the hideous practice
of slopping out. John Renton, the respected long-time head of
the Scottish Prison Officers Association, had told the media that
overcrowding and undermanning were largely to blame for the
riot. It was a view dismissed in a radio interview by Scottish
Secretary Malcolm Rifkind who said he thought it unlikely that
the spark that started the incident was overcrowding. Politicians
of all stripes like a little spin, and Malcolm Rifkind pointed out
on the airwaves that out of a Scottish prison population of
around 5,000 or so, only around 50 were involved in trouble;
the rest were behaving responsibly. But it has to be said that
the 50 or so were doing a good job in grabbing headlines and
wrecking jails. And terrifying their captors.
Another Tory to claim that Barlinnie was not overcrowded
was Scottish Office Minster Ian Lang and he, too, was taken to
task by John Renton who said, Overcrowding is a problem
that will not go away and it is wrong of Mr Lang to say B-Hall
is not overcrowded. The mixture of short and long term and
remand inmates in Barlinnie is dangerous and can be damaging.
Frankly if the inmates are trying to demonstrate they can take
over prisons, they do not have to show us that. It is obvious
that institutions cannot be run without the co-operation of prisoners. Incidentally, the mix of convicted prisoners and untried
men played a major role in a riot in Barlinnie in the thirties, a
tale told later in this book. Another serious concern in the
prison service was over the inadequacy of training for the
countrys 2,700 officers. It was said they were being denied in
service training because of pressure of work. Disturbingly Mr
Renton said that the caring aspects of the job were being overshadowed by the custodial ones.
This argy-bargy and blaming began to obscure the fact that
the crisis in the prisons had not just jumped up and grabbed
27

THE BARLINNIE STORY

the front pages. A Prison Inspectorate report on visits made to

Barlinnie before the riot bore out John Rentons observations
on training. It said that staff training was almost non-existent
and staff facilities barely adequate though it did say the staff
continued to carry out their duties conscientiously. But the
danger to the morale of the officers was pointed out. This
report was also highly critical of the number held on remand
(35% of the prison population at that time) and the fact that
these prisoners were held in conditions inferior to the convicted
inmates. It stated categorically that there was overcrowding,
little recreation and no opportunity of work for remand prisoners. The report also said that the overcrowding was restricted
to doubling up, which was felt by many staff and governors
to be preferable to trebling up, in cells designed in the 1880s
to hold just one prisoner.
All the signs of a build-up of tension were in place. Little
wonder then that when the lid finally blew off the pressure
cooker, the cause was that trivial incident in a dining hall.
Incidentally the inspectors were not impressed by that dining
area and criticized the cleanliness of the place, tables not properly washed, dirt encrusted Formica and hot food being brought
out too soon. It was said that soup and custard was seen stacked
on hot plates up to two hours before meal time. The food serving
system was primitive and hygiene was suspect. Another
problem that would contribute to the tension in the jail was
the question of visiting. All visits were in closed conditions
with a permanent transparent screen between visitor and prisoner. It was said that such arrangements have now been superseded in most prisons by open visiting and it is regrettable that
no progress has yet been possible in Barlinnie owing to lack of
facilities. Another ingredient in the recipe for a prison powder
keg.
28

BULLY BOYS, COLD CUSTARD AND A POWDER KEG

Little wonder that the staff were as overwrought as the prisoners. This was a hellish place to work at that time. No surprise
then that at one stage in the actual riot an angry prison officer
confronted the press corps, who were covering the event with
millions of pounds worth of technology, and screamed, This
would never have happened if you had not been here. Why
dont you all fuck off? This loss of temper was perhaps justifiable in the circumstances at the time the angry officer said
it, three colleagues had knives at their throat. They could have
died. But did his outburst have any validity? It was a concern
that engaged the attention of Herald writer Allan Laing and
there was no doubt there was a media circus on Barlinnies
doorstep (including the Glasgow Herald it must be said).
The logistics of covering such a riot are formidable. For
example, the newspapers, radio and television had deployed
hundreds of journalists to the site of the action. The television
crews from down south, reporting back to the national networks,
had scanner trucks each worth around a million pounds. And
some of the English hacks did not take full account of the fact
that they were in the east end of Glasgow. One left a 25,000
camera in the back seat of his car covered with a jacket. It
walked, no doubt something that some of the inmates across
the road behind the walls would have found delightfully ironic.
In the previous sieges at Peterhead and Saughton, intervention
by tabloid journalists had helped break the deadlock. This time
the Scottish Office and the prison authorities seemed determined to talk themselves out of this problem on their own. In
the early days, the press circus was assembled just 100 yards
outside the walls and the prisoners could play to the crowd
asking the hacks to wave if they could hear them. And men
shouting from the rooftops politely referred to the media pack
as ladies and gentlemen. But on the second full day of unrest
29

Riots, death, retribution

and redemption in
Scotlands infamous prison
Barlinnie is one of the most notorious prisons in the world
and for more than a hundred years it has held Glasgows
toughest and most violent men, swept up from the city streets.
Ten men died on its gallows in the infamous Hanging Shed,
including serial killer Peter Manuel. It has sparked rooftop
protests and cell-block riots, and been home to godfathers
of crime like Arthur Thompson Snr and Walter Norval.
Barlinnie was also the scene of one of the most controversial
experiments in penal history, the Special Unit, where the likes
of Jimmy Boyle and Hugh Collins were at the centre of a
fierce battle between those who see prison as retribution
and those who regard it as a step on the road to
redemption, even for the most evil killers.
Paul Ferris, TC Campbell and gangleaders galore
have languished behind its grim walls and, more than
a hundred years on, Barlinnie still makes headlines.
This is its fascinating, turbulent story.

BLACK & WHITE PUBLISHING

PBB 198x129mm

Cover design: stuartpolsondesign.com

Photograph Getty Images

7.99

17.5mm spine