Outlaws: Inside the Violent World of Biker Gangs (22 page)

Consummate politicians, the Bandidos took advantage of their raised profile to continue to expand by offering the Hell’s Angels a deal they could not refuse. Concerned about the potential expansion of the Outlaws, the Angels happily agreed to allow the Bandidos to open up chapters in free states in order to act as a buffer between the two clubs.

In 1983, the same year that Donald Chambers was released from prison and retired from the club, the Bandidos stumbled across a golden opportunity to expand overseas into Australia. It was a move that, within the space of a year, would lead to one of the most notorious and bloodiest incidents in biker history: the Milperra Bikie Massacre.

In the spring of 1989, the Bandidos expanded into Europe for the first time when nine members of the Club de Clichy in Marseille flew to South Dakota in order to attend the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally. Once there, they were officially patched over during a ceremony presided over by Ronnie Hodge himself. Clichy had spent three years as a club prospect before being judged to have reached the standard required for its members to wear the Fat Mexican on their backs.

Alarmed at this incursion onto a continent they had always seen as their own, the Hell’s Angels responded in typically bloodthirsty fashion. In August 1991 the vice-president of the Marseille chapter of the Bandidos was killed and two others injured in front of the clubhouse in a drive-by shooting by four men on motorcycles.

The murder turned out to be the joint work of two Hell’s Angel puppet clubs, one of which had provided the manpower and the other the stolen bikes to be used as getaway vehicles. By now the message to the MC world was loud and clear: wherever the Bandidos went, violence seemed certain to follow.

Just a few short years earlier – despite their close friendship with the Outlaws – the Bandidos had been considered neutral enough to host peace talks between the two rivals (these took place during the Sturgis rally and ultimately came to nothing). Now they had just as much reason to despise the Angels as their sister club, and all the more reason to befriend those who felt the same way.

In May 1993, the ten-strong party of Midland Outlaws arrived in Marseille Provence Airport and made their way to the Paul Ricard Circuit in a small convoy of hired cars, expecting to receive a warm welcome from the Bandidos. Not only had Rainer, one of the leading lights of the AOA, personally arranged their invitation, but they also fully shared their hosts’ animosity towards the Angels. In the event, both trump cards turned out to be worse than useless.

Boone and the others arrived at the entrance gate and gave the club name. The prospects who were on guard duty went away to check and asked them to wait. And wait. And wait. Eventually a more senior Bandido appeared at the gate.

‘Who the fuck are you lot?’

‘We’re the Midland Outlaws from England,’ said Boone.

‘Never heard of you.’

‘We’re still quite new. We were all different clubs and we came together last year.’

‘Ah yes, I remember hearing something about that. But what makes you think you can come here?’

‘Well Rainer from the Montreal AOA said he had arranged our invitation.’

The Bandido shook his head. ‘No he didn’t. So far as I can see, you don’t have an invitation.’

‘Then someone must have messed up. Is Rainer here?’

‘No. There’s no one from the AOA here. No one at all. Except you lot.’

‘Oh, we’re not part of the AOA.’

‘You’re not affiliated to them, even though your patches say Outlaws?’

‘Well we’re all outlaw clubs aren’t we?’ replied Boone. ‘But we’re independent. We don’t answer to anyone.’

What Rainer had failed to explain was that at the time he made the call to the Midland Outlaws, relations between the AOA and the Bandidos were going through a period of extreme strain. Rainer had been invited to the party himself but suspected it might be a massive set-up and that he and the other Outlaws would be walking straight into a trap. In order to test the water, he had sent Boone and co in his place.

Luckily for the Brits, the Bandidos quickly read between the lines and realised what was going on. The fact that they were not affiliated to the AOA also worked greatly in their favour. The organisers allowed the Midland Outlaws to attend the gathering and offered them a level of hospitality appropriate to a fellow MC, but remained extremely wary of them throughout.

All around the circuit, more than 5,000 bikers from all over the world had gathered for a weekend of racing and partying. As well as the Bandidos there were dozens of smaller, fiercely independent clubs like the Bones MC from Germany, the 666 Undertakers from Denmark and the Morbids MC from Sweden, many of whom had a long and proud history of their own.

Perhaps the most glamorous contingent came in the form of the Desperados Harley Davidson Club, led by its lifetime president, Johnny Hallyday (aka the French Elvis Presley). An icon in France, Hallyday has sold more than one hundred million albums throughout his career, performed on the
Ed Sullivan Show
(with the Jimi Hendrix Experience as his support act) and collaborated with everyone from Peter Frampton to Bono. He had always dreamt of being a biker but unable to commit enough to join an established MC, he decided to form his own – the Desperados, who also doubled as his personal security entourage.

The Midland Outlaws found Hallyday a real laugh and loved hanging out with him. The fact that he was not seen as a threat to the Bandidos also helped ease the tension that Boone and the others were feeling. Their every move was being watched, with several Bandido prospects charged with keeping a close eye on who they were talking to and what they were getting up to. Boone couldn’t help but make a game of it, trying his best to lose the men who were tailing him.

Although Boone did his best to mingle, the language barrier soon became a problem. But then he noticed that when the French, German and Danes were talking to one another, they used a form of broken English. ‘Hell, I can do
that,’ thought Boone and within a matter of minutes he and the rest of the Midland Outlaws were drinking and partying with clubs from around the world as if they’d known them all their lives.

In particular, the Brits found themselves bonding with the Undertakers and the Morbids, both of whom seemed to share the same spirit of adventure and determination to survive as independent MCs in a world increasingly dominated by the global biker brands. Boone felt particularly drawn to Michael ‘Joe’ Ljunggren, an officer with the Morbids and a true kindred spirit. ‘Good morals, good principles,’ he told friends later, ‘a real diamond geezer. He’s just like one of us. Totally sound.’

By the end of the first day, the tensions had eased considerably and the Midland Outlaws were invited into the VIP enclosure to meet some of the Bandidos. Members had flown in from all over the world including a significant contingent from the Texas chapter.

The Midland Outlaws generally knew very little about the Bandidos at the time. To Boone, the logo on their backs looked like a cartoon character – he couldn’t take it seriously. And when he caught sight of one particularly large man, standing on the edge of the enclosure, staring into space with ‘El Presidente’ plastered across his back in red and gold lettering, it was all he could do to stop himself from giggling.

One of the Bandidos suggested that Boone thank the president for showing them such generous hospitality, so Boone bit his tongue and walked over to him. The closer he got, the more uncomfortable he felt. In general, the Bandidos were a smart but ragged gang who looked like bikers
through and through. Their president, on the other hand, looked like someone who had picked up a costume from a fancy dress store.

His boots were so highly polished that they had a near-mirror finish, his colours were totally immaculate, completely unblemished. It wasn’t just that they were new – Boone took every possible opportunity to change his colours in order to keep them looking smart – it was that they looked as if they belonged to someone who had simply never done any real biking.

Boone stood next to the man who continued staring off into space, deliberately ignoring him. It was a game that two could play, but rather than standing there in silence Boone instead decided to forgo the usual respectful formalities and treat the president like any other biker.

‘Oi mate,’ he said, nudging the man on the arm. ‘Any idea where I can get rid of these travellers cheques?’

The face of El Presidente was incredulous; he could scarcely believe what he was hearing. ‘What did you say?’

Boone pulled out a wad of cheques from his pocket and waved them in the air. ‘Travellers cheques, any idea where I might be able to cash them?’

The man’s mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. He was completely lost for words.

‘Forget it,’ said Boone and walked off with a smile on his face.

After partying into the small hours, the Midland Outlaws were getting on so well with the Undertakers that the latter insisted they visit them in Denmark. Boone and the others readily agreed. A few weeks later in early July, the Midland
Outlaws arrived at Copenhagen Airport and made their way through immigration and baggage to the main roadway just outside the arrivals hall where members of the Undertakers were due to meet them.

Although the group had gotten to know several Undertakers during their weekend in Marseille, no one recognised any of the men who arrived at the airport and claimed to be there to pick them up. To make matters worse, neither of the two men – most likely prospects – were showing their colours or had anything on display to show any kind of club affiliation. Instead they wore large hooded jackets which totally covered up whatever they had on underneath.

‘Why are you guys covered up, what the fuck’s going on?’ asked Boone.

‘Don’t worry about it. You’re safe,’ came the reply.

Alarm bells started ringing immediately. Without seeing their patches, there was no way of confirming exactly which club these men belonged to. For all the Midland Outlaws knew, they might have been Hell’s Angels luring them off to their deaths. Even if they were Undertakers, the fact they were covered up did not bode well. They could have been expecting an ambush and carrying concealed weapons. Another possibility was that something had happened earlier in the day which had made it necessary for them to cover up to avoid becoming targets. Whatever the reason, the fact that the Midland Outlaws were flying their colours and had no way of hiding them was a major cause for concern.

Boone explained his unease and appealed to the men to properly identify themselves. They replied that they were
under strict orders not to tell the Brits what was going on or to show their patches. The only way the Midland Outlaws were going to get to the party would be to get in the car. If they did not want to do that, they might just as well turn around and go home.

The Outlaws had a quick conference among themselves to decide how best to proceed. No one was one hundred percent happy about the situation but at the end of the day they outnumbered the men picking them up by four to one. If it looked as though it was all turning to shit, they would have little difficulty overpowering their captors and getting away, just so long as the other side didn’t have a chance to call in backup.

They arrived at the Undertakers clubhouse just as it was getting dark and were quickly ushered into a garden area where more than one hundred other bikers were waiting. A signal was given and one of the Undertakers lit a fuse at the side of a large metal structure that towered some fifty feet into the air. As the fuse burned it set off a series of fireworks and sparklers attached to the frame which, within a few moments, had spelled out the message:

‘Denmark welcomes a new nation of Bandidos’.

At that same moment, every member of the Undertakers unzipped his jacket and revealed himself. After twenty years of total independence, the entire club had been patched over and the Bandidos now had its second European chapter.

Boone knew precious little about the Bandidos but he knew that Denmark had long been considered a Hell’s Angels’ stronghold. The Big Red Machine might be happy to co-exist alongside a small, local club but the presence of
a second American gang would be like a red rag to a bull. Add to that the fact that the Angels had already attacked the first Bandido chapter in Europe and the chances of the conflict escalating seemed almost certain.

As if the Midland Outlaws didn’t have enough problems of their own, their presence at the launch party would without doubt get back to the Angels. From the outside looking in, it would be assumed that Boone and the others had planned it all in advance and known all along that they were going to a launch party for the new club and had wanted to be a part of it. Their cards were well and truly marked. Now any club that was at war with the Bandidos would be at war with the Midland Outlaws as well.

In March 1994, the Midland Outlaws travelled to Florida in order to attend Daytona Beach Bike Week, a ten-day-long festival that competes with the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally for the title of biggest in the US. At the airport, with their patches covered up, they again split up into small groups in order not to draw too much attention to themselves as they walked through the border controls. Boone, Link and Dozer approached the counter together.

‘What do you do for a living?’ Link was asked, as he approached the booth. He hesitated a moment too long and the official immediately became suspicious. ‘Come on, come on, tell me what you do for a living. You shouldn’t have to think about it.’