“Every part of the house was crowded, and in the boxes, circles and stalls there was quite a preponderance of ladies and gentlemen of quality in evening dress. Magistrates, town councillors, merchants, shipowners, lawyers, and accountants, to say nothing of representatives from many other places of amusement in the city, helped to swell the gay crowd.”

So the opening night for The Pavilion was fancifully spun in the Glasgow Programme back in March of 1904, shortly after Glasgow’s iconic theatre opened its doors to the public. A year that seems to go further back in time when you consider Theodore Roosevelt was in the Oval Office at the time. 

You’d think whoever penned such a gushing appraisal would be turning in their Necropolis grave at the sight, a century later, of tonic wine-fuelled young teams excitedly squeezing their bahookies into seats, as they awaited international hypnotist Peter Powers to take to the stage for some late-night depravity.

Therein lies the essence of the Pavilion; that through its doors have streamed, and continue to stream, every atom of Scottish society, all with the same thing on their minds, to have a hoot.

The grand old lady of Renfield Street has operated without prejudice as Glasgow’s stage for the gallus to prove their mettle. A gathering space for guaranteed laughs.

Nowhere in Scotland’s biggest city, nor perhaps in the Northern Hemisphere, has seen what the Pavilion has seen in its 118 unbroken years behind its imposing terra cotta facade, one troubled only by the lick of a nearby inferno in 2018 or the gloomy spectre of closure amid heavy financial losses in 1981.

The Herald: Posters that have been put up on the side of the Pavilion theatre in Glasgow. The posters are highlighting the fact that the theatre remains closed since the fire in Victoria's nightclub on the 22nd March and the plight of it and other businesses that

The stories from across the decades are legendary. Of a public and staff consumed by the fear they’d kill 3,000 budgies if they bumped into the magician, who somehow managed to hide them in his dinner suit; ashes being scattered from the roof as a dying wish, a pair of bibulous wummin entering into a boxing bout during a George Michael tribute; backstage staff trying to scupper the panto on its last night; Lulu breaking box office records; Harry Lauder; four generations of the same family - aged between 6 and 102 - enjoying Elfie’s Magical Adventure; a six-year-old Sidney Devine in his first concert; the Big Yin performing his first ever sell-out solo concert; a Take The High Road stage show playing to full houses every night; Harry Houdini getting locked in the lavvies and a then unknown Charlie Chaplin and Scotland's very own version, Dave Willis. 

Or Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds; Texas; Ant & Dec; Del Amitri; Hipsway; Rory Gallagher; Lloyd Cole and the Commotions and the Krankies to name a few. 

And then there’s been the gold-standard heckles, a compilation of which could resemble The Bible in page numbers. A pastel-suit wearing Edwyn Collins getting told he was wearing their f*****g suit while reminiscing about seeing Francie and Josie in the Pavilion while mid-gig;  and comedian Mike Winters following his brother Bernie onto stage to a cry of “Aw naw, there’s two ae them” a mere example.

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Where else could you install the new canopy cladding and signage and get slung free tickets to see a hypnotist as your sweetener for completing it. 

As a breeding ground for some of the most successful stage stars in the UK and cornerstone of Glaswegian - and Scottish - entertainment, it’s defied the odds to entertain audiences and remained relatively unchanged for well over a century, without losing a hint of its pure Louis X splendour and while still ‘packing them in’.

Long may that, and the quick snifters in The Atholl Arms or Lauders, continue.