Words By Ruairi Hawthorne
Hello again! Sorry it's been so long since my last article. I hope you enjoyed it and that it could take your mind away from these trying times, even if only for a moment. You may remember that the man who owned the subject of my last article, The Seamore Picture House, was a man named A.E Pickard. During my research on that topic I was fascinated by the small glimpses that I got of this man's life, concluding that he could easily be worth dedicating more time of the article to. However, I realised that this would probably draw focus away from the main subject – so here I am, ready once again to delve into Glasgow’s past.
A.E Pickard was born in 1874 in Bradford. Despite his English heritage we can consider him a true Glaswegian as this is where he spent most of his life, moving here in 1904 and dying here in 1964. He arrived in Glasgow and pursued the only career that could accommodate his future of excess and eccentricity – show business!
Albert Ernest Pickard
By the time he arrived in Glasgow, Pickard was already well seasoned in the world of work, he was only ten when he began his training as an engineer. Besides this, little is known about his childhood and early adulthood, although based on small scraps of information it appears that he dabbled in every conceivable industry. He gave up his most recent prospect (a printing apprenticeship) for his new ambition of becoming a traveling showman, plying his new trade in the bustling cities of France, London and Yorkshire. When this proved to be unfruitful, he pursued his new ambition owning property in Glasgow and within three months of moving here he had made his first purchase.
The Britannia Panopticon
The Britannia Panopticon (originally the Britannia Music Hall) was opened in the centre of Glasgow, sometime in the late 1850s and had the daunting task of entertaining thousands of local workers seeking some escapism. Since the 1500s the main source of this entertainment for working class Glaswegians was–rather grimly–public executions, a hard act to follow for the Panopticon. This mob mentality among the patronage meant that any performance failing to satisfy would be met with through projectile abuse in the form of rivets, turnips and horse manure.
The place quickly developed a bad reputation but after several changes in management it ended up in the hands of James Anderson. The previous owners, husband and wife team Mr and Mrs Rosenberg, had done a great job in giving the place a new life by introducing many respected music acts as well as innovative features such as showings of animated films and performers who incorporated electricity into their sets. Despite these features making the Panopticon one of the most popular venues in the city, by the time Anderson came on the scene in 1905 the place seemed to be on its last legs and was considered a relic of the old century. This is where our protagonist, A.E Pickard, came in.
James Anderson's neighbour at the time happened to be none other than Mr Pickard. Anderson had seen his success with reopening the neighbouring "Fells Waxworks Museum", feeling that his knack for showmanship might be the Panopticons salvation. Pickard spent several months renovating the place, turning the attic into a carnival. This carnival was complete with the typical fortune telling machines, electric rifle ranges and hoopla’s as well as the rather atypical wax figures, which was an ever-changing exhibit as they depicted the most recent person to be executed at Duke Street Prison. That last example is a great insight into Pickard’s often macabre sense of humour which would end up being a major motivator of his later exploits. He later converted the basement into a "Noah's Ark" zoo, with reptiles, monkeys and even a bear! This basement also included distorting mirrors, paintings and medieval Chinese etchings of torture.
The Britannia with Pickard at the helm.
Pickards "throw everything at the wall" technique definitely payed off as it brought back the old working class crowds, who may have been alienated by the previous owners attempts to legitimise the place. This is evidenced by the fact that few of them could actually pronounce the word "Panopticon", leading it to be commonly known as "The pots and pans". Pickard had a very hands on approach to running "The Panopticon", dishing out the same kind of mob justice that the performers had been subjected to 50 years ago, although this time the nails where being thrown by Pickard, usually from a stage ladder, at the audience if they ever got out of hand. The performers where not immune to this treatment however, as Pickard would often try to use a long pole with a hook at the end to pull them of the stage if he thought that they weren't up to much.
Amongst the myriad of performers that set foot on this stage, from the tried and true bearded lady to the ever put upon world's smallest man, the one who left the most enduring mark on the world of performance was a sixteen year old boy named Stan Laurel…..