Members Only · Episode 7 of 12

Lenny McLean v the Giant Rugby Player

12 min · For Supporters

Lenny McLean will go down as one of London's legendary hard men, the man many called the king of the doors. He lost in the ring several times. On the street, the film says, he was a different man, and there are plenty of stories about his fights on the doors but not one where he came unstuck. Except, perhaps, this one, told by the man who worked beside him.

The Governor at the door

By this time McLean was older than the new breed of doormen coming through, and he was the Governor of his domain: clubs like the Camden Palace, the Hippodrome and Peter Stringfellow's clubs. According to the film, he spent much of his time in the office, smoking roll-ups and eating Chinese food. If there was trouble, he came out front and usually dealt with it with a growl or a slap.

A man the film describes as a very proper individual from East London put it simply. There were men who could knock you out with one shot, and Roy Shaw was very dangerous in his prime. But on the street McLean had everything. He was big and strong, he could take a punch, and if it went to the floor he was ready to bite.

One of the men who worked alongside him was John "The Neck" Houchin, a doorman with a big reputation of his own. In his book, Houchin describes a night, the narrator believes in the 1990s, when McLean came off second best to a giant rugby player.

The rugby lads

A group of rugby players were out on a big night in the West End, and they were playing up. One of them was enormous, the kind of player, the film suggests, who jumps for the throw-ins. The film pictures a man of around six foot seven and 25 stone. The fact that McLean had been called out of his office told its own story: the doormen needed backup, and this was not the usual bit of trouble.

Houchin does not go into great detail. By his account, the rugby player saw McLean, who must have been 20 stone plus at the time, and steamed straight into him. He tackled him to the ground and wrapped him up so tight he was all but helpless. Then he sprang up and ran out of the club.

Houchin says McLean was absolutely fuming, and embarrassed. He spent the rest of the night standing out front, hoping the rugby player would walk past so he could settle the score.

What the night proves

The film does not pretend it was more than it was. McLean was not hurt. It was his pride that took the hit. On any other night, the narrator says, McLean would have wrecked him. But there are no rules in these encounters, and you can be trained, skilled and experienced and still have a moment when a huge athlete flies at you and there is little you can do. Had the player held on longer, it might have gone very differently for him. Drunk or not, he was sharp enough to run.

The film also makes a point about fame. McLean only became known to the wider public after his autobiography and his acting career. To that rugby player he was not a legend, just a big, menacing man on the door, and in drink he probably thought it would be funny to take him down.

Beaten in the ring

McLean's record in the ring shows the same thing: even the hardest men can come off second best. Cliff Fields, a tough fighter on the street and in the ring, beat McLean twice, knocking him unconscious. His corner man, who was with him for both fights, describes one of them in the film. It was unlicensed, he says, so you could get away with the odd headbutt. McLean came out steaming in with fast hands. Fields covered up, then started landing right hands of his own, and after two minutes one of McLean's cornermen rang the bell early. There was a row about it. In the second round, by his account, the headbutts flew both ways before Fields landed about half a dozen good right hands and knocked McLean out.

The last word

The film leaves the last word to McLean himself, and to Dave Courtney, who once got in the ring with him for a spar. Courtney says it lasted 17 seconds, and ten of them were the count.

McLean's own explanation of who he was is plainer. He wanted to be the Governor, the best street fighter, because when he was a young man that was how you earned respect. He came from a hard area, he says, where he did not want to be kicked, so he kicked first. The night a rugby player put him on the floor does not take away from any of that. It shows only that nobody, not even Lenny McLean, was beyond a bad night.

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