I have a lot of family living in South Wales and I go to Porthcawl, Glamorgan, to see them when I can. Whilst there, one time I was introduced to Howard Marks in a pub in Kenfig Hill.
Howard Marks, Mr Nice.
One of my relatives, Paul Morris, was a real character and seemed to know everyone and I always used to go out to meet him in the morning. We would drive around so he could point out places where relatives lived or places I might find interesting for my family tree research before going back to Porthcawl to have several beers and meet with other family members or friends at the Queen's Pub.
How I met Howard Marks.
One day Paul and I had been up to Bwlch y Clawdd, Nantymoel and on the way back, we drove down through Kenfig Hill and stopped at The Walnut pub. We walked into the pub, and it was quite quiet. A man on his own sat at the back of the bar, and Paul walked up to him and said hello. He introduced me to the man, saying, 'Alan, this Howard, Howard, this is my cousin Alan'. The man called Howard shook my hand, said hello, and asked Paul if he wanted a pint. Paul told him what he wanted, and Howard asked what I wanted. I asked for a pint of cider, and Paul told him I drank like a fish and would give him a run for his money. We all stood talking and finished our drinks before I bought another round of drinks. When we finished the drinks, Paul said we better return to the Queens pub. We shook hands with Howard and went back to Porthcawl. I parked at my Bed and Breakfast, and Paul and I walked back to the Queens pub where we spent the rest of the day drinking, playing pool and having a laugh with friends and family that came in.
A few weeks later I was at Gatwick airport on my way to Florida and went to buy a book to read on the plane. In front of the shop was a huge display of one book. It was titled Mr Nice, and after reading a quick description on the back, I bought it to read on the plane. Halfway through the book, I got to a section with many pictures of Interpol's most wanted drug smuggler. It was an amazing read all about how Mr Nice had been wanted all over the world for drug smuggling, his deals, his prison time and even how he helped the secret service in the USA. I was looking at all the old pictures of Mr Nice taken at different stages in his life and from all over the world when I saw an up-to-date photo of him.
At this point, my brain clicked into gear, and I realized why the old photo on the front of the book looked familiar. Looking at the up-to-date photo inside the book, I suddenly realized that the Howard I had met and been drinking with two weeks previously in The Walnut pub in Kenfig was Howard Marks, the man connected with groups as diverse as the CIA, the IRA, MI6, and the Mafia.
When I was introduced to Howard Marks I thought he was a nice polite man and had no idea of who he was. It just goes to show we never know who we may be talking to in our local pub.