You’re looking for a grand, white, neo-classical building with four solid columns at the front and a round medallion of a man’s profile above the doorway-it’s directly across the pavement from you, glowing under the lights at 7a Jesus Lane.
Welcome to the front steps of the mysterious and storied University Pitt Club. Imagine you’re standing here, late in the evening, the chill Cambridge air swirling around your ears as the glow from inside spills onto the street. This very spot has witnessed nearly two centuries of secrets, toasts, and a handful of questionable fashion choices. Let’s step out of the cold and into its tale for a moment-mind your feet; a famous chancellor or an actor might have stood right where you are now.
The story of the Pitt Club begins in 1835, born in Michaelmas term just as autumn settled over Cambridge, named to honor William Pitt the Younger-who wasn’t just Prime Minister, but a Pembroke College alumnus. Back then, clubs like these popped up all over Britain, meant not just for good company but for a bit of plotting too-the goal was to recruit solid Tory MPs, and maybe squeeze in a splash of party spirit along the way. Rumor has it, the members attended political dinners wearing “party uniforms.” Now, I can only imagine what that means, but I’m guessing the fashion police would have had a field day.
In the early days, political fervor gradually melted away in the warmth of camaraderie, cheers, and lavish meals. By 1868, the Pitt Club had dropped its political ambitions, favoring the joys of friendship-though no doubt the debates and banter continued well into the night. But even the heartiest laughter sometimes went quiet: the First World War saw the club shutter temporarily in 1917 as young men went off to fight, only to spring back open in 1919 when celebrations returned, and apparently, so did the search for decent whisky. The club minutes from that time describe a “horrible scarcity of whisky”-a tragedy, I’m sure, in undergraduate terms.
During the Second World War, this proud building on Jesus Lane changed hats entirely. The premises were commandeered for the war effort, rebranded as a “British Restaurant,” and the great William Pitt’s face atop the entrance reportedly peered down in horror at the enormous sign. Pitt, famous for his clever wit, would probably have had a few words about his club serving up rationed peas instead of prime rib. With their home in service to the public, club members were forced to find new quarters, ending up above a post office in Trinity Street-dubbed, with a wink, the “Interim Club.” Picture a group of future statesmen and Olympians trying to throw a dignified party wedged between letters and telegrams.
Now, this building itself has quite a twisty past. Originally, Digby Wyatt designed it in 1863, not as a club, but as Roman (improved Turkish) Baths-yes, really-though the venture lasted barely a year. After the baths folded, there was a lively liquidation sale and the architect himself snapped up the building. The Pitt Club moved in upstairs, sharing with Orme’s Billiards Rooms, until it managed to buy the whole place in 1907, just in time to survive a fire that called for extensive renovation and gave it the rather stately interior you’d see upstairs today.
On the building’s pediment, you’ll spot a large plaque-a gift from a general, salvaged from the wall of Bowling-Green House where Pitt died. It’s been here since 1933, keeping a watchful eye on comings and goings, from secretive politicians to joke-cracking actors like John Cleese and Eddie Redmayne. You might also spot some royal fingerprints in the guestbook, from Edward VII straight through to Charles III.
But the Pitt Club wasn’t just for boisterous young men forever. For 182 years, women weren’t allowed, except “after dark”-unless, of course, it was Sunday lunch. Finally, in 2017, a landmark club vote (and a bit of controversy, naturally) flung open the doors, ushering in a new era as women joined the ranks. Imagine the sound as the old ways gave way and new voices echoed through these halls.
So, as you stand beneath William Pitt’s stone gaze and the grand columns that have seen it all, remember: this building is far more than bricks and mortar. It’s a patchwork of debates, laughter, fire, food, exclusion, and the slow march of change-a club devoted now mostly to making memories and, if the stories are true, still the occasional shortage of really good whisky.
Wondering about the clubhouse, notable members or the women? Feel free to discuss it further in the chat section below.
