by Tim Rayborn
And the list goes on and on …
As if all of these superstitions and metaphysical regulations weren’t enough to make theater people completely neurotic and to offer plenty of discouragement for up-and-coming actors from even getting started, here are several more guidelines with mysterious origins. They are not universal, so consult your local theater for the most relevant and up-to-date list.
Real flowers, jewelry, and money should never be onstage; this at least has a practical origin in attempts to prevent theft. Mirrors bring bad luck (broken or not) and should not be onstage; this one also has a practical purpose (i.e., to reduce stage light glare). Actors should not clean their makeup cases, and should never use new stage makeup on opening night, and never use a rabbit’s foot when applying it (!). Actors should always leave the dressing room left foot first, but visitors should always enter the dressing room right foot first. However, no one should visit backstage during a dress rehearsal or some ill fortune will attach itself to someone’s clothing during the play. Never place hats or shoes on a chair or a table in the dressing room. Never offer carnations to an actor or actress, as it means that their contract will not be renewed. A play should not open on a Friday night. The Green Room should never actually be painted green (as we’ve seen, it’s an unlucky color). No one must ever knit in the wings of the stage (exactly why one would be knitting as actors are running on and off stage in a frenzy between scenes is not clear). One can learn one’s lines better by sleeping with the script under their pillow (if only this were true!). An actor should never speak the last line of a play before opening night, because this could bring about an early closure for the production. However, a bad dress rehearsal will mean a fine debut performance (it allegedly gets the bugs out of the system, and many musicians believe this, too; yeah, right). Finally, never bow to an empty theater; it’s insulting, because one must earn that bow from a real audience.
It all seems to be far more trouble than it’s worth.
5
Haunted Theaters
Ghost stories provide some of our most popular entertainment, even from an early age. Whether huddled around a campfire or staying up late at night with only a creepy flashlight for illumination, children love scaring the pants off each other and themselves with tales of vengeful spirits and cursed old mansions. Or maybe it’s daring their friends to sneak into that abandoned old house on the outskirts of town, the one where legend says terrible things happened and the dead are still there. As adults, we often dismiss such things as foolish and superstitious, and yet we still retain a fascination for the subject, even if only in fiction; films, television, and books are filled with stories of spectral incursions, and ghosts have played key roles in stage plays and operas for centuries.
The psychology of why people believe (or want to believe) in ghosts is obviously way beyond the boundaries of this book, but people generally fall into three categories: believers, skeptics, or somewhere in between. Skeptics will scoff and put down stories of real-life encounters to overactive imaginations. Perhaps they seek logical explanations, such as low-pitched radio frequencies, which can induce strange reactions in some people who aren’t even aware of what’s happening. Believers will counter with any number of anecdotal accounts of how some spirits seem to communicate or manifest themselves in audible or tactile ways, or are obviously directly tied to the building where they died. In-betweeners watch this sparring from the sidelines and assume that it will never be resolved.
For purposes of this chapter, try being an in-betweener as we delve into some of the stranger and creepier examples of haunted theaters and halls in Europe, America, and beyond. Given the superstitious nature of so many in the theatrical profession, it comes as no surprise that there would be countless stories of theater hauntings and meetings with the other side. Since so many playhouses are old, it’s inevitable that they would feature an abundance of creaky floorboards, knocking pipes, drafty halls, and dark, scary basements. These are places where the imagination can run wild; indeed, that’s already their primary purpose. Obviously, there are literally thousands of examples and we can only look at a few here, but these stories should be more than enough to pique your interest, and maybe even send a chill or two down your back.
Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, London
Sometimes called England’s most haunted theater, the Theatre Royal (known simply as “Drury Lane” to locals) stands on a site previously occupied by three other theaters, the first of which was built in 1663. That’s a lot of time for terrible things to happen, people to die, and ghosts to arise. In one example, a fire in the early nineteenth century killed more than twenty people. The current building dates from 1812, and it seems that most actors who have spent time there have experienced one thing or another that defies explanation. There are the usual stories of people hearing doors opening or closing on their own, things being moved, and in one case, a television changing its channels spontaneously in front of two actors who were chatting about the Drury Lane ghosts. Others have been touched or even shoved from behind, but see no one when they investigate.
There are at least three ghosts said to wander the premises. The first is Joseph Grimaldi (1778–1837), who is credited with inventing the modern clown look, including the white makeup with a fake grin and wigs, the costume, and the antics. This alone would make him scary enough for many. In contrast to his clown persona, his real life was quite miserable—he suffered personal loss, lack of money (he was often defrauded by con artists), and several injuries. He once attempted suicide by ingesting poison, but only ended up with a bad stomachache for a few days. By the time he died, he was crippled by stage injuries and beset with alcoholism. It’s entirely possible that the spirit of such a tragic figure might wander without rest at Drury Lane. Grimaldi’s ghost has been known to kick actors, apparently angry at losing the use of his own legs later in life. Legend says that he requested to be beheaded after his death and that the request was honored (who knows why?!); as a result, a disembodied clown face is sometimes seen floating around the stage area. Well, that’s not creepy at all; sleep well tonight, all of you coulrophobes!
The second ghost is that of another clown, Dan Leno (1860–1904), best known for his cross-dressing pantomime roles. He also suffered from personal tragedy, had a mental breakdown, and died an alcoholic at a young age. Leno apparently suffered from incontinence (maybe due to stage fright) and would mask the smell of his urine-soaked trousers with perfume. Many have claimed that the scent of lavender mysteriously wafts through the stage area from time to time; perhaps Dan is taking a stroll nearby, but one wouldn’t think that a spirit needs to pee.
The third ghost is known as the “Man in Grey,” and is most often seen in the upper circle as a man dressed in—logically enough—grey, wearing a powdered wig and an eighteenth-century tricorn hat. Unusually for a ghost, he often appears during the daytime, and has been observed by numerous audience members, actors, and theater staff over the years, sometimes even sitting in a seat before vanishing. The ghost’s origins are mysterious, but one theory is that it is the spirit of a young actor who was murdered in the theater. Indeed, in the 1870s, when workmen were doing some renovation on the upper circle, they discovered a bricked-up room that contained a skeleton. There were scraps of grey cloth about it, and chillingly, a dagger sticking out of the rib cage. Was he a young actor or theater patron who was violently murdered and whose body was then hidden? Is he condemned to wander the upper circle of Drury Lane for all eternity?
The Adelphi Theatre, the Strand, London
Like many theaters, the Adelphi has also undergone reconstructions and rebuilds since it was founded in 1806, but the chief ghost that wanders its dark halls shuffled off this mortal coil in 1897. William Terriss was a well-respected Shakespearean actor, and was also noted for his swashbuckling roles—Robin Hood, for example. He met his violent end on December 16, 1897, stabbed to death by a disturbed young actor, Richard Archer Prince. Terriss had tried to help Pri
nce in the past, finding him roles and even offering financial assistance, but Prince’s increasingly erratic behavior and alcoholism meant that he was no longer employable. He was reportedly seen arguing with Terriss a few days before the killing, and on the night in question, he hid in the shadows near the Adelphi’s stage door. He stabbed Terriss in the chest, side, and back. The murder caused something of a sensation in the London press, though Prince was found not guilty by reason of insanity and committed to an asylum, where he died in 1936. Famed Victorian actor Henry Irving (1838–1905) was appalled by what he saw as a too-lenient sentence and noted with bitterness, “Terriss was an actor, so his murderer will not be executed.” He would also later receive a death threat from Prince, mailed from the asylum.
As might be expected, someone who died such a horrible and premature death (Terriss was only fifty at the time) might be inclined to hang around for a while, and not too long after his death, reports of ghostly incursions began. Terriss had been involved with actress Jessie Millward, and one report claims that as he lay dying, he promised he would come back to her. Sure enough, people soon began to hear mysterious knocks at the door of Millward’s dressing room and occasionally see a figure moving about in the area. Once, in 1928, another actress named June claimed that she was attacked by an unseen force while changing in that same dressing room. Was the spirit of Terriss unhappy that a different actress was using his beloved’s room?
Other reports claim that Terriss’s ghost has also been spotted in the nearby Covent Garden Tube station. Witnesses have confirmed seeing him milling about, after being shown pictures of the actor. One ticket taker swore that Terriss appeared to him, pushed his head down, and then disappeared; he refused to work at the station afterward. Accounts of his presence there have continued into the last decade; maybe he’s ultimately planning on going somewhere else? The idea of him boarding a phantom underground train for his last journey into the great unknown seems wonderfully poetic and fitting.
St. James Theatre, Wellington, New Zealand
On the other side of the world in Wellington, Kiwi playhouses are no more immune to the haunts of the dead than their British counterparts. A particularly unsettling example is the St. James. It opened in 1912, and after several decades of successful runs (including silent movies, talking movies, live stage shows, and music), it fell into decline in the 1970s. Stories of ghostly activity didn’t help the theater’s fortunes, and it was closed in the late 1980s. By the late 1990s, however, efforts were made to restore it, and it now operates fully again, including hosting the Royal New Zealand Ballet. The ghosts haven’t gone away, however.
The most famous is the spirit of Yuri, who in life was a Russian acrobat. The story says that he fell to his death on the stage during a performance; some even claimed that he was pushed by a jealous fellow performer. Whatever the circumstances, he does not seem to be a vengeful ghost. Yuri is credited with turning the theater lights on again overnight after everyone has left; apparently the single ghost light isn’t enough for him. One theater worker, a projectionist, swore that Yuri saved him twice. The first time, when the auditorium lights went out, he went looking for the switch near the edge of the stage and was shoved back by an unseen force. He later realized that in the dark, he would have fallen into the orchestra pit had this not happened, and probably would have been injured. Of course, maybe Yuri turned the lights off to begin with? In the second instance, the same man was onstage with his young child when an overhead beam fell. Again, he was pushed backward by invisible hands, and he swears that he saw his infant son lifted up and carried nearly ten feet away from the danger before being gently put down.
More malevolent is the ghost known as the “Wailing Woman,” and with a name like that, you know she’s going to be creepy, annoying, or both. Legends say that this is the spirit of an actress who, while trying to make a comeback and restart her career, was booed off the stage. She was so distraught that she slit her wrists and bled to death, either in the dressing room, or at home. Many people have reported hearing wailing and sobbing echoing in the theater, and the ghost also seems to delight in hindering living actresses, especially those in a lead role. Several women have inexplicably sprained their ankles onstage; one fell off a ladder, and another (an opera vocalist) was beset with a head cold that appeared suddenly just before her performance. She lost her voice and couldn’t sing.
Even more unsettling, the theater is said to be haunted by an entire boys’ choir. The boys gave their last concert in St. James during World War II. They set off on a ship to go on tour afterward, but the ship apparently sank and the choir was never heard from again. Employees have heard ghostly singers in various places, but when they go to investigate, the sound seems to move to another part of the theater.
So, why is this particular location such a hotbed of paranormal activity? There are the usual urban legends about it being built on an old Maori burial ground, but no evidence has turned up to prove this, so no one really knows. A recent paranormal investigation television team encountered the usual equipment malfunctions and a problem with an elevator used to bring musical instruments in, which apparently happens frequently. Old Yuri might still be having some fun with them.
The Palace Theatre, New York
The Palace Theatre, opened in 1913, was once the ultimate prize for vaudeville performers in the United States. Would-be entertainers of every imaginable variety would flock to New York and ply their trade near the venue in the hopes of attracting the attention of talent agents and the theater owners, who might then offer them a place on the coveted Palace stage.
Over its century-long history, it has hosted everyone from Harry Houdini to Bob Hope to Judy Garland. Magic shows, pantomimes, plays, and musical concerts have all graced its stage, and it seems that many of the performers (and a few others) are reluctant to leave. Indeed, one medium who went to the location declared that there were more than a hundred ghosts on the premises! She reported that many were unhappy—they felt stuck and could not leave until they corrected specific wrongs from their lives.
So, who’s still hanging around? The most notorious ghost is that of one Louis Bossalina. His last name was misspelled as “Borsalino” by the New York Times in 1935, and that name stuck. Louis was a member of an acrobatic troupe called The Four Casting Pearls. They were performing on August 27, 1935, in front of an audience of some eight hundred; there were no nets on the floor. Louis leapt from his stationary position, attempting a double somersault, chillingly known as “the death loop,” but missed grabbing his partner’s hands and plunged more than twenty feet to the stage. Amazingly, he did not die, but his performing days were over; his hometown paper, The Reading Eagle, printed an obituary for him on August 4, 1963.
Even though the fall hadn’t killed him, his spirit has returned to the site and has apparently been trying to get the stunt right ever since. There have been reports of a ghostly acrobat who screams as he falls to the stage once again, never able to perfect that last acrobatic feat. Seeing or hearing this particular apparition is allegedly very bad luck that can mean that misfortune or even death will befall the witness within a year.
Other less ominous spirits include a man dressed in a brown suit who is seen passing by the manager’s office, usually after closing. There are also a sad-looking little girl who peers down at the auditorium from the balcony and a boy playing with toy trucks, also on the mezzanine. One performer recently saw a woman in the orchestra pit wearing a white gown and playing a cello, who vanished during the show.
The most famous resident is said to be Judy Garland. Though she is not usually seen, many have reported feeling a strange presence by the door that was built for her entrances and exits, near the rear of the orchestra. It’s as if she’s lingering there, still waiting to go on for one last performance.
New Amsterdam Theatre, New York
This Broadway theater, built between 1902 and 1903, hosted the famous Ziegfeld Follies from 1913 to 1927, and has been home to man
y grand productions over the last century. It actually functioned primarily as a movie theater from the 1930s to the 1980s, though it also had a nightclub and hosted smaller productions.
It also is home to a particularly interesting ghost, that of Olive Thomas. Olive had been in the Ziegfeld Follies production in 1915 and was quite famous, being called the most beautiful young woman in New York City. At one point, she was even painted for the cover of the Saturday Evening Post.
Alas, as often seems to be the fate of young starlets, her personal life became marred with troubles. In 1916, she eloped with Jack Pickford. Jack’s sister, Mary, became a world-famous actress during the silent era, earning herself the name “Queen of the Movies.” She would later win an Oscar.
Jack wasn’t as talented or fortunate. Despite his movie-star good looks, he was an alcoholic and drug addict, and his behaviors increasingly made no one want to work with him; after 1920, his film credits drop off noticeably. While he loved Olive passionately, their relationship was stormy and abusive, zig-zagging from huge fights to making up and back again.
Possibly in an attempt to rekindle their love (though also to scout some film locations), they went to Paris in 1920. On the night of September 5, they returned to their hotel, after an evening on the town. Details are sketchy, but both were drunk, and both may have taken cocaine. At some point after midnight, Olive took a large dose of mercury bichloride, which her husband may have been using to treat syphilis (it was a common treatment before antibiotics), and later died at the American Hospital. Though her death was ruled an accident, it’s hard to imagine someone ingesting a significant amount by mistake. Perhaps they had another huge row and she decided to end it all, but Jack insisted that it was a horrible accident and that he had done everything he could to save her. Nevertheless, the press had a field day, speculating on everything from a distraught suicide over Jack’s infidelities, to him murdering her for insurance money.
