DECEMBER 2021 75so-called “top boy” in a hooligan firm. Nobody brought
a crowd like Massey, who on any given night could turn
out 100 or 200 people, says Peter Walsh, the author of
Gang War: The Inside Story of the Manchester Gangs.
Which is how Massey and his Salford Lads gained con-
trol over the doors at the Haçienda, among other clubs.
A throng of his men would overwhelm security, then
go behind the bar and pour themselves drinks. It was
a statement of intimidation: We own thi s place. Massey
would hold a club hostage night after night until, even-
tually, the owners ceded control of the door to his new
PMS Security outfit.
“Raves were made for violent young criminals,” writes
Walsh. “Older heavies were not interested; they didn’t
understand the scene at all. It was wide open for the football
hooligans....The raves taught them a lesson some would
use with a vengeance: Control the security of an event and
you control who sells the drugs inside.”
Step 2 in Massey’s business plan: Command the ecstasy
supply. As Walsh describes it, Massey and his associates
would purchase the party drug in bulk at its point of
manufacturing, in Amsterdam. The trick was in getting
the pills past customs. The Salford Lads, experienced car-
jackers, would find British travelers who had driven to the
Netherlands, break into their vehicles and stash a couple
of bags of ecstasy, usually under the spare tire. A contact
helped them access a government database that matched
license plates with home addresses, allowing them to
break into the car again and retrieve the drugs back in
England, after the mark had driven home. Procured for a
few pounds, each pill would sell in the U.K. for £15 or £20.
It all made for a f lourishing business, hooliganism mon-
etized. Massey’s guys raked in £10,000 a night from ecstasy
sales alone. At one point, the Manchester Evening News
reported that PMS Security had 120 men on its payroll, with
an annual revenue of £1.7 million. The club scene, seedy
underbelly and all, was a boon to Manchester. In the span
of just a few years, this symbol of national malaise turned
into one of Europe’s hottest party capitals: Madchester.
And in Madchester, Massey was king.J
UST AS THE Haçienda spawned imitators, so did
Mr. Big and his Salford Lads have plenty of compe-
tition. Gangsters with nicknames like Little Porky and
Jimmy the Weed claimed allegiance to outfits such as the
Cheetham Hill Gang and the Pepperhill Mob. And with
competition came conf lict. Assaults were reported regularly
at clubs across Manchester. Doormen were stabbed. One
pub landlord lost an eye in a beating. A rival made moves
on the Haçienda, then found the head of his dog chopped
off and laid out on the pool table at his home pub.
In the press, Madchester was now Gangchester. Or
Gunchester. Or the Bronx of Britain. When Mike Tyson
came through town to fight Julius Francis, the gang vio-
lence was so bad that Tyson was the one begging for peace
in the streets.Ibiza to record an album, in 1986, and that’s when “the whole
club scene erupted, along with ecstasy,” says Peter Hook,
New Order’s bassist. “We saw it. We brought people over to
witness it. And we brought it back to Manchester.”
At first it was just once a week: an Ibiza-style “hot”
night, with palm trees, ice pops and loads of pills, all set
to the pounding beats of Chicago house music and Detroit
techno. But that grew, and the Haçienda became the spot
for 100,000 local university students. Knockoffs ensued.
Manchester was the party capital of the U.K.
With the club scene thriving, “ecstasy exploded,” says
Hook. “All these middle-class kids were selling drugs—£30
a tab. They were making s---loads of money. It didn’t take
long for gangsters to spot what was happening.”
Massey would go to the Haçienda every weekend with
Lydiate, who remembers the utopian bliss: new music,
new drugs, new circles of people. Crowding thousands
of ravers into a club, though, proved not to be the best
business plan. Rolling on ecstasy, partygoers tended to
drink water, not alcohol, to hydrate. One of the world’s
most famous clubs was becoming a money pit.
Enter the budding Mr. Big. What made Massey special
was his natural charisma. He was simply a charming dude.
He had layers—more Tony Soprano than Scarface. In his
own Salford way, he was a politician. His gangs weren’t
strictly stratified; he was first among equals, like the