Cinema where fire killed 71 children excavated

The pensioner is one of the few remaining survivors of the Glen cinema fire in Paisley, which occurred on Hogmanay 1929.

He was six when the blaze claimed 71 children - aged 18 months to 12 years - to become one of the worst disasters in Scottish history.

And yesterday, as a major new project to excavate the building began, Mr Cumming, 80, remembered with clarity the event that defined his childhood.

He said: "You don’t need to remember, really; it never went away; the panic, the crush, the screams, the emptiness when we returned to school and saw the empty desks."

It was the disaster that should not have happened.

A combination of panic over a minor fire and a locked door provoked 1,000 youngsters into a stampede.

Yesterday, in the semi-darkness of the old building, the remains of it hidden behind a furniture shop on Paisley High Street, social archaeologists began searching the past.

The experts will retrieve artefacts from the disaster for an exhibition and television documentary commemorating its 75th anniversary this year.

Mr Cumming is a "living artefact" of the tragedy, which began at 2:28pm, while he enjoyed the wonder of the then-infant cinema and a western called The Desperate Desperado.

"I was there with my brother and sister; we survived, but my cousin, Caroline, died," he said.

He added: "Even that young, I realised the horror of it.

"One family lost three children and many more lost two."

The catastrophe shocked Britain, and led to new laws which made it obligatory for entertainment venues to fit the now standard push-bar fire doors.

Martyn Robertson, of Fablevision, the documentary company, is working with Paisley Development Trust.

He said: "It’s a spiritually dark place; there’s a lot of pain there. I’m sceptical about psychic stuff, but I came running out to escape the most oppressive atmosphere.

"We all experienced it. It’s clear something dreadful happened here.

"There has never been a proper commemoration, and the disaster is fresh in the minds of Paisley people, even after this long."

Mr Cumming agreed. "You don’t forget, ever."

On the day, smoke created by a small fire in the spool room leaked into the auditorium.

Cries of alarm caused children to panic and stampede. The most tragic aspect was that if they had not panicked, they would have been in no danger.

The burning film container had been disposed of, but the children did not know that, and in the ensuing mele, they were trampled to death and suffocated.

Rescuers smashed windows to get them out and 100 injured were taken to hospital as dozens lay crushed to death.

Mr Cumming said: "It was nightmarish. I remember the door flying open after a policeman broke the lock."

There were heartrending scenes as the news filtered through the town and parents raced there.

One father lost two sons and his daughter, and there were many family double fatalities.

Mr Cumming added: "There was a massed heap of the dead and injured."

Minutes before, James McVey, the projectionist, had been placing a film reel in a container when he saw smoke issuing from it.

He clamped on the container lid, but the smoke had carried. Ironically, the manager was disposing of the smouldering film, and it prevented him from allaying the children’s fears.

Within minutes, cars and ambulances were taking children to hospital.

Two trams were commandeered and they, too, conveyed the injured and dying.

Distracted parents joined a throng trying to locate their offspring and there was hysteria when mothers realised their children were lost.

All the children who died were from Paisley, with the exception of one boy.

New Year celebrations in the town were cancelled, according to The Scotsman of 4 January 1930.

The paper also reported that one little boy, who managed to crawl out from the horror, was promptly thrashed by his father for losing a shoe.