The beach ain’t what it used to be
- Chuck Thompson
- Aug 10, 2025
- 3 min read
Updated: Aug 11, 2025
OPINION / HUMOR — If you’re around age 38/40 ish and older, and grew up going to Myrtle Beach in the summers with friends or family, or even church youth groups, the Myrtle Beach Pavilion was a very familiar place for you, ripe with homelessness, drugs, violence, shootings, and some rides and I think miniature golf. Whatever, I can’t remember.
It was a staple of the city by the beach, the boastful mascot of the Dirty Myrtle.
If you stayed in a motel near the pavilion and drank the water from the faucet of the hotel bathroom then you were probably unintentionally made immune to numerous types of viruses and diseases.
The Pavilion was where your parents told you to stay away from, but you went anyways because you wanted to know why, and see the trauma for yourself.
It was a plethora of a human drama buffet — cheaters caught cheating, girl fights, addicts doing drugs against the wall of the public restrooms that smelled like a Russian Siberian prison shower.
Gangs, couples, families, runaways, cops, robbers, and the occasional elderly couple trying to reenact a special moment from their past, with the sounds of Biggie Smalls thumping in the car behind them, as they walked down the sidewalk to the smell of body odor and vinegar fries.
“I love you, Ethel,” he said.
“Oh, George, I love you too,” she smiled, giving him a kiss.
“50-INCH SCREEN. MONEY GREEN LEATHER SOFA!” Biggie Smalls rapped from the speakers of the car passing by.
Yep, those were the good ole days…
The Pavilion was a magical place — at one time, from what we were all told.
In its prime during the late 1940’s until the early 60’s, couples, young and old would enjoy the sights and sounds of the pavilion, take the rides, play the games, eat the food and hopefully steal a kiss when the moment was right.
But, to us, by the 80’s & 90’s it was the Pavilion we all grew to cautiously adore — At a safe distance.
But even then, people had more accountability, structure, and respected tradition, to an extent...
For instance, if you wanted to get assaulted, robbed, or even shot, then you knew the pavilion was the place to be. That’s where it happened. Crime was confined to a certain location, and by the 1990’s people knew that if they wanted to get robbed and/or shot they had to go to the pavilion. It was tradition.
But then, in 2006, the Myrtle Beach Pavilion closed, leaving criminals with no where specific to go commit crimes and victims no longer knew where to go if they wanted to get mugged or shot.
The second half of the first decade of the 21st century was a confusing time for Myrtle Beach goers. They knew not what to do, nor where to shoot, fight or rob one another.
Girl fights almost whittled down to mythology by the close of the ‘00 decade, and criminals became depressed. Victims, and also those wanting to be a victim, alike, had no where to go.
It was a sad time in the southern city that never sleeps.
And then, that’s when we as a society broke, and people forgot their past and did what they wanted, when they wanted.
Suddenly crime could happen anywhere. The homeless could use the bathroom on any sidewalk, and the addicts could scare children and mothers on any public tourist attraction across the city.
Myrtle Beach descended into chaos. Suddenly, shootings happened anywhere, from the beach to the boardwalk.
From church parking lots to family homes. From drive-bys to simply shooting at a moving car from another moving car, driving past one another on the strip.
The old days are gone.
The ruckus has lost its sense of history, and Myrtle beach is a prime example.
I wish we could get back to the days when people knew where to go to get robbed, harassed and shot.
I don’t know what will happen next week, or anytime in the future, but if we don’t bring back the pavilions of the world, then chaos will surely reign.
I hope you all have a wonderful week.
Read the Sunday column every week, only at ShelbyIndependent.com.
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