Tony's World Book 1 Indoctrination: 1, #1

By Christopher Christodoulou

They say our lives are pre ordained, our futures are written, and we just have to find them. We may have an idea or choice in which direction we would go and what we would find, but Tony could NOT have predicted what the future held for him. Starting life as an ordinary naive and innocent boy of Cypriot origins and ending up embroiled in a life that was all but innocent.

Building a successful business that was to take him up the ladder, and then come crashing down due to the so called progress of the Worlds politics. A Divorce failed relationships, passionate affairs and eventually a life of crime. A life he was actually enjoying.

Follow Tony Leonitou’s rise and fall, and his escapades in this first book of his life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christopher Christodoulou
• Release date: Aug 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781524271497

Book preview

1

Naive, easily led, but also head strong and determined, that’s me, I am Tony. I was born in 1950 of Cypriot parents. Hackney Hospital was the location, in the East End of London. My parents were George and Irini Leonitou, and they came to the UK in 1948 in search of a better life. In those days, as far as Cypriots were concerned, the streets in the UK were paved with Gold, as opposed to Donkey shit in their village streets.

I was the eldest of four children, in descending order of age, Angela, Costas and Dimitra. I suppose you could describe me as of average intelligence, I wasn’t an academic, I went to Primary school, junior school, and after failing my eleven plus I went to an all boys Secondary school.

At that time, 1961, there were a minimal amount of foreign students in schools and in fact, I was the only Cypriot in the whole school. Although I was born in the UK my darker skin and foreign name left me open to bullying and racist abuse. I had no choice but to suffer this for a couple of years until my brother Costas joined me at the same school, only then did my attitude change. The natural protectiveness towards my brother surfaced. I could handle being bullied myself, but when it came to my brother being pushed around, it was a different matter. I was involved in scraps and fights almost every day in my brother’s honour, going home with black eyes and fat lips regularly.

Then Stephanos joined us, things really changed then! He was an amazing six foot tall, already had facial hair which he showed off with his Mungo Jerry sideburns, and the makings of a decent moustache. For a fourteen year old, this was pretty cool.

As time passed, Stephanos, my brother and I, earned the respect that we had fought for, in fact, it would be fair to say that in a way we had become the bullies. We soon had a following of new friends. Even the teachers got involved using me as a sort of ‘peacemaker’, just to give their seal of approval, they made me Head Prefect. With the help of Stephanos and my brother we did a good job of keeping reasonable order in the playground.

2

All of my relatives, Uncles and Cousins, from my father and mothers side were in the shoe industry. Shoe designers, shoe machinists, shoe makers, which is quite a coincidence really, considering my father came from the far West of the Island of Cyprus, and my mother from the East of the Island. It was customary to marry someone from your own village.

My father was renting a basement beneath a shoe retail shop locally. Here he carried out his trade as a shoe machinist, stitching a few pairs a day given to him from already established family members. The shop keeper was happy to have him at hand as he would do the odd repair for him, shoes that were returned. He would replace a buckle, or restitch a seam, so it was a mutually convenient arrangement. During the school holidays, and at weekends, I would go and help my father. It would give me a little pocket money plus I was learning a trade that I actually liked. This probably contributed to the fact that I didn’t give my best efforts at school as I had every intention of entering the shoe trade once out of school which couldn’t come soon enough. I wouldn’t need any academic qualifications as I was already learning the trade first hand, and I was almost assured of a job with any one of my relatives.

I was now counting the hours to the end of my school days! There was only a month to go. I was hoping that on leaving school I would go and work for my father, but this was not to be the case.

Things had changed for my father. The old man that owned the retail shoe shop was to retire and sell his business. As my father was already on the premises and he knew enough about shoes, the old man had given my father first refusal on the shop. As it was a well established business my father took the opportunity.

My father had greased up his machinery and wrapped it all in polythene so it wouldn’t rust and laid it all to rest...for now. Although I was happy for my father, it meant that I had to change my plans. I went to my favourite Uncle, Uncle Andreas; he was more than happy to employ me. I made new friends, and met cousins I didn’t know I had.

I hurriedly opened my first wage packet; it contained twelve shillings and sixpence; Not bad. Within a few months my Uncle was happy to be paying me £12 a week, but I was earning it.

It wasn’t long before I had saved enough for the driving lessons I so wanted. My father refused to give me lessons in his precious new car, an Austin 1100. I had made enquiries, and it was going to cost me ten shillings a lesson, plus two pounds ten shillings for the actual test. The instructor seemed to think twelve lessons would be enough, so the ten pounds that I had put aside would cover it. I booked up for the lessons, and went to inform my father, and of course I got the reaction I expected.

If you pass your test first time, I’ll let you take my car for a drive, he laughed loudly, I’ve got nothing to fear there then, he continued.

I left the shop thinking, ‘I’ll show you’

I had two lessons a week for six weeks. Then waited a week for my test date to come through...I passed first time! I set off to tell my father the good news, well, good for me.

I passed my test Dad, I said proudly, and gloating a bit.

Where’s the proof? he asked.

You’re so mistrusting Dad.

I trust nobody! he said firmly.

Not even your own son? I asked.

NO-BO-DY! he repeated.

I removed from my pocket, the Pink slip I was issued with once I had passed my test, and I handed it to him. He studied it for a moment.

Looks like you have, he said, handing it back abruptly.

What? Not a well done or congratulations, nothing?

Well done, he said begrudgingly.

I stood in front of him with my hand out.

What do you want? he asked.

The keys, the keys to your car Dad, you said I could drive it if I passed first time, or don’t you keep your word either?

He reluctantly gave me the keys and told me where the car was parked. He begged me to be careful as the car was only a month old. I took the keys and went to find the car. I got into the car, and I remember feeling really important, but nervous as it was the first time in a car alone. I started the car and made sure I did everything as I was taught, checking the mirrors, the gear stick, etc. I drove to the end of the side street, and indicated to turn left into Blackstock road, a busy main road. I waited an eternity to be allowed out of the side street and finally turned left. I was about to change to second gear when I made the fatal mistake of looking down at the gear stick for a split second and went straight into the back of a stationary bus!! I hadn’t even travelled a 100 yards.

I just sat there not knowing what to do. Eventually, the bus driver got out his cab and walked to the side of my car, at which time I also got out.

You alright son? he asked.

Yes I am fine, and I’m sorry, it was entirely my fault.

The bus driver examined the back of his bus; there wasn’t a scratch on it unlike my father’s car which had a bent bumper, broken front grill and a broken headlight. Everybody was backing up behind us, and they were showing their impatience by sounding their horns.

Look son if you’re not hurt, and you can sort yourself out, I’m happy to let this go, he said.

Yes, yes, thanks mister.

He got back into his bus and drove off; well he drove another 100 yards, but was held up by traffic. I started the car again and took the next left into a side street, and parked. I noticed Green water dripping from under the car; obviously the radiator had also been damaged. Dad will be pleased...NOT!!

I walked back to the shop to face the music. I told my father what had happened, and he just stared at me in disbelief.

So you thought that just because you have passed your test, it means you can drive? A mistake most new drivers make. It takes years to accumulate what we expert drivers call ‘road sense’.

He wasn’t as angry as I thought he would be. It was agreed that I would pay the excess that the insurance company applies to policies.

3

By the time I was 19 years old, I had been employed by most of my family, not because I couldn’t hold a job down, but because the family used to help each other out. If a family member had more work than he could handle, I would go and help out. By doing so, I was getting the opportunity to learn other aspects of the shoe trade, from scratch, to ready for the shop shelves.

My earnings were above average for a person my age, I was earning £55 a week, plus some overtime, but it wasn’t going to get any higher, not unless I was self employed. I knew that whatever I was earning, I was earning twice as much for my employers, that’s how it worked. The only way I was ever going to earn more was to cut out the middle man and go direct to the manufacturers.

My thoughts were constantly occupied with how I could start up my own Shoe Upper making business. I could approach the members of my family that had the bigger businesses, and ask if they could give me work on a sub contract basis. They could give me work at a lower rate per pair than they were getting, and I would still earn more than I am now, and they would earn money for doing nothing.

A great idea in theory, but in actual practice, this proved not to be the case. I got the distinct feeling that my family were beginning to feel threatened by my progress, however, one of my Uncles, Uncle Petros, did agree to give me a little work, along with my Cousin Nicos, who had too much work and didn’t have the space to employ more people. I was still at the research stage; there was still the question of premises and machinery, so I had a long way to go yet and not enough financial clout to do it with.

My intention was to go and ask my father for the machines he had stored in his basement. I was never that close to my father, in fact, my father wasn’t very close to anyone not even my mother. I often wondered why she stayed with him. He was an arrogant, selfish and emotionless man, but he WAS my father.

It was Saturday morning, and I had decided to go and see my father about those machines. As I entered the shop, I hoped he was in one of his better moods, he had them sometimes.

Hello Dad, I said.

Hmm! was the reply, And what is it you’re after? he continued.

Who said I was after anything? I just came by to see how you were doing.

Well you must want something; why else would you come and see me? I am doing ok thanks, now, what do you REALLY want? said my father, mockingly.

Yes, well, I was going to ask a...a...favour I said hesitating.

AHA!

You think you know everything! I said angrily, but I also knew he was right. I never spoke to my father unless I wanted something, but then again, my father rarely spoke to me unless it was to criticise. I can’t remember ever being picked up by him as a child or playing with me or taking us anywhere.

I don’t know everything, but I knew you wanted something!