DAYS OF YORE (Part 4)
Reflections of growing up in Hillbrow would be incomplete were the shenanigans of assorted rogues and rascals not to come to mind. Of those there were an abundance in the neighbourhood, but they generally operated on the fringes of the community that comprised decent and honourable flat dwellers intent on making a living and making a life.
One of the scams that was pulled off by con artists was a game played in broad daylight on the pavements. The particular game was a favourite of the rooftop dwellers who serviced the flats in the many apartment buildings of the neighbourhood. These chaps formed cleaning teams that washed windows, dusted, swept and polished the parquet floors that were so popular from the ‘50s to the ‘80s. They were also responsible for keeping communal areas neat and tidy – applying polish, washing walls and shining brass handles until one’s reflection could be seen in them. After they had done their rounds, they would mostly retire to their scant accommodation on the rooftops. They usually shared rooms as well as rudimentary ablution facilities. Paid a pittance, many who lived in these “townships in the sky” turned to cunning scams to relieve passersby of whatever they carried in their purses. A three-card game (three bottle caps also sufficed) involved sleight of hand in which the cards were shuffled and the “correct” one had to be selected by the victim. Enticed by the prospect of winning money, the scam artist would lure the gullible into the game by allowing them to win on occasion. Indeed, the whole scam rested on the premise that the victim was more likely to be hooked on the game should he be allowed to win most of the early games and lose a few in between, to boost the plausibility of the scam. The sting in the tail came with the last round when a large amount of money is wagered and inevitably lost. The bulk of the bystanders were in on the ruse and would whip up enthusiasm and confidence to con the victim. They also assisted in the getaway plan with the filthy lucre, sharing in the spoils. These sorts of activities were relatively harmless and the gullible seldom lost such significant sums of money as to cause lasting damage. Sadly, human stupidity seems to abound and some of the scammed get caught repeatedly.
Then there was the notorious Hillbrow cat burglar of the late sixties and early seventies. Da Rocha (not his real name) crossed the Moçambique border into South Africa in about 1968. He was fluent in English (as well as his native Portuguese), so even though he sneaked across the border without a passport, he easily blended in with the South African Portuguese community. He could talk his way out of most awkward situations when officials challenged him. Da Rocha had no intention of earning an honest living in Hillbrow, where he rented a tiny flat (probably sublet to him so that he could avoid having to present documentation which would have revealed that he had been in a Lorenço Marques prison, from which he had escaped). This is also the reason he avoided passport control at Komatipoort. He was a colourful character whose exploits in Hillbrow were widely reported in the media and followed by residents like some kind of radio “serial.” A cat burglar of note, he would scale up the sides of buildings and gain entry to flats on the upper floors with consummate dexterity and ease. The sleeping residents seldom woke, so exquisite was his stealth. The first inkling they had of a burglary having taken place, was when they discovered there were jewellery, some other items and money that had simply disappeared. Even wall safes couldn’t keep valuables from being taken by this genius of stealth and lock picking. In a way there was some fondness for this diabolical thief, as he never caused physical harm to any of his victims. No murder, rape or assault could ever be ascribed to Rocha. He was caught by the police on occasion, sentenced and locked up. However, no prison could hold him for long, and he escaped like a slithery eel. Shortly before the Portuguese withdrew from their African colonies, Rocha appears to have slipped out of the country, back to Moçambique. Before the Portuguese left, he escaped from prison again, lest he be extradited and slapped with a long prison sentence in South Africa’s maximum security facilities. He was never heard about again. Whether he met a sticky end or not, is unknown. His exploits did, however, leave an indelible imprint on the residents of Hillbrow of that time.
The rapscallions who defrauded the Johannesburg Stock Exchange, the scions of insider trading, pyramid schemes and all manner of financial skulduggery, have their names forever linked to infamy. They were probably a greater threat to the ordinary citizen, decked out in their white collars, Savile Row suits and silk ties, than the small time rogues – con artists and benign cat burglars. Cecil Chweidan’s name lives in infamy as, allegedly, one of the paramount swindlers of that era. A litany of financial crimes – “bouncing” (rubber) cheques, misappropriated shares and a host of nefarious business activities – dominated the news in Johannesburg’s newsprint for weeks after they bubbled to the surface upon his suicide in January 1973. The financial markets were left reeling. His name made headlines, but others no doubt escaped the day of reckoning, not by shooting themselves, but by their exquisite skill in covering up their shenanigans.
It was at about this time that rental accommodation in Hillbrow made its way onto the fairly new sectional title market. There was a scandal about little old ladies being forced to surrender their (cheap/affordable) rental apartments to unscrupulous property moguls who sought to turn a quick buck by renovating individual flats and applying a lick of paint to the passages before selling them off and laughing all the way to the bank. The most vulnerable (ill, infirm and pensioners) slipped between the social security cracks and wound up destitute. The heinous crimes committed on the JSE trickled down to Hillbrow’s long-time residents, as white collar fraudsters and chancers lost touch with integrity.
The seedy, dark underbelly of Hillbrow was always percolating in the shadows. Residential areas in which there are hundreds of apartments and individuals could easily slink away from detection, the criminal element will often find abundant cover for their anti-social conduct. There were some who rented or purchased flats in which they could fly below the radar of the “long arm of the law.” No doubt call girls and hookers found their niche in these dwellings, too. Also, without a doubt there were robbers, murderers and all manner of thugs lurking in the density of this neighbourhood. Seldom, though, did this twilight zone of shady criminality make life unbearable for the vast majority who were decent, upstanding human beings.
At some point in the following decades, the social conditions in Hillbrow flipped. Imperceptibly at first, then at an increasingly rapid pace, the tone of the neighbourhood changed. An influx of less salubrious elements chased the long standing residents out. As crooks moved in and became a growing threat to the old, the weak and families simply trying to raise kids in a safe environment, the exodus of decency accelerated. Crime and violence overtook the suburb. Buildings were hijacked by extortionists squeezing rent and protection money from vulnerable undocumented immigrants, from the poor and destitute and honest decent folk from all over the continent.
In the last decade, the City of Johannesburg has begun a concerted effort to claw back the charm of Hillbrow. Hijacked buildings are being reclaimed. Scoundrels are systematically being rooted out. Urban renewal is back on the agenda. Required is WILL on the part of the authorities with power, for Hillbrow to rise above the sorry state of degradation that has beset it in recent years.
Meanwhile, residents of that great suburb cherish memories of a vibrant, charming flatland. Fondness for all the good things on offer there, outweigh the seediness of the rogues and rascals who were by far a minority.
©Paul M Haupt
Lovely, Paul
ReplyDeleteThank you kindly
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