The Clapham Grand’s fight for survival: ‘Confusing customers is one of the worst things you can do’

Since it opened as a variety theatre in 1900, The Clapham Grand in South London has hosted everyone from Charlie Chaplin to Oasis, often ushering up to 3,000 people through its Grade-II listed doors in a single day. Those queuing next to its distinctive red brick exterior, prior to the first lockdown in March, alternated between excitable 18-year-olds about to experience their first Saturday night clubbing and older customers off to Sunday night bingo.

On weekdays, big screen sport, live comedy, gigs and midnight movie nights would unite everyone from drag queens to football fans. On Monday mornings, snaking trails of confetti and glitter would lead from its entrance to the train station. When the Grand shut its doors on March 23, Clapham Junction seemed to lose its sparkle.

Today, about to enter our second national lockdown, the mood at the Grand is strained. One of the few venues to reopen as soon as performances were allowed in limited capacity, the Grand has been leading the way in creative, flexible programming and a positive, can-do spirit. But shutting down again isn't easy.

“November and December are the two biggest months for indoor hospitality. All of our profits are made in the final quarter of the year. If we had gone into lockdown three weeks ago, we could have come out of it in time,” says the general manager Ally Wolf, sitting in the venue’s green room next to a giant cut-out of Liam Gallagher and a grinning inflatable dinosaur.

“I can’t even sell a ticket for December because I have no idea what date I can sell it for. I had 37 shows from today’s date until Christmas Eve in the diary, and now they’ve all gone. Our team spent the last two months building that diary together - our now cancelled run of November gigs featuring James Bay and Lianne La Havas was actually the best programming of my entire career,” says Wolf, who joined the Grand four years ago after the club was on its knees and in dire need of a strategic overhaul. He gestures around the now empty venue. “If you had come to see me this time last year, I’d have been out taking my team for a congratulatory lunch because we’d have had a record-taking week of £80,000. Halloween is always our busiest week of the year.”

The Clapham Grand first ran out of money in July, almost four months after paying £50,000 a month in rent, despite having no revenue. The venue was forced to crowdfund for its August rent, and is now using its £300,000 recovery grant to pay rent until next April.

Since reopening on September 6 for its first-ever socially distanced shows – hosting a maximum of 380 people a night in a 1,300 capacity venue – the Grand has been operating at a loss. It requires between £50,000 and £60,000 a week to break even, and relies heavily on wet sales (alcohol and soft drinks) over ticket sales. With only 380 people at the bar, and the curfew prohibiting the sale of alcohol post 9:45pm, wet sales in September and October were minimal.

“We’ve been taking in £20,000 a week”, says Wolf, grimacing. “It’s too easy to bash the government and I wouldn’t want to be in their shoes, but I just don’t think they got their consultation right. The introduction of tiers and then the curfew felt confused. Confusing customers is one of the worst things you can do when it comes to hospitality. The admin needed to simply clear up that confusion doubled our workload.”

The former promoter for bands including The Kooks and The Maccabees has never applied for a job and doesn’t have a CV – he entered the music business after setting up a university record label while studying at Southampton, like much of his staff. ”We only managed to bring the last person out of furlough last week,” he says. “They’re going back on furlough after just one week of work.”

This time around however, Wolf is particularly worried about his customers. “It’s heartbreaking for the business, it’s heartbreaking for the talent. But more than anything is actually heartbreaking for the young people who need our venues,” he says.

“If you're 18 to 30 years old, it’s likely that all your life experiences are built around socializing and meeting people. So without places like the Grand, how are you going to fall in love? How are you going to make new friends? How are you going to make memories?”

Wolf feels there is a snobbery towards these experiences; that venues like the Grand are more “disposable” because they are focussed on fun rather than education or the high arts. He suspects this might be why he didn’t get the full £400,000 he’d applied for from the recovery fund.

“I put immense value on creating fun entertainment for people in their twenties and thirties, but it’s the kind of entertainment that doesn't come with hugely high cultural value, it’s seen as more disposable. It's never gonna win awards.

“But I would say there's just as much importance in putting on a cheaper but really well produced movie night that gives customers an incredible, affordable Friday night out than there is hosting the Mercury Prize-winning act at the Roundhouse or something at a theater in the West End.”

Wolf refers to The Grand’s roots as a variety theatre that opened specifically to entertain the local working class. “The differentiating factor between musicals and theater was always the price point. I don’t want to have to hike up our ticket prices when we reopen because our customers can’t afford that.”

Nevertheless, Wolf is optimistic about the Grand’s future. “In 120 years, we’ve survived a 1918 pandemic, two wars and multiple recessions. Someone even tried to turn the Grand into Wetherspoons and a petrol station,” he says, chuckling. “What I know for certain is that no one invests in negativity and fear, they invest in positivity and hope. The Grand is not a charity, we’re a business. We simply can’t go back out there and ask our customers to save the Grand again. We have to roll with the punches. We have to adapt.”