Tales of the Guild Ghosts

I used to not believe in ghosts. Then, while staying at the Henry VIII Hotel in Bridgeton during a convention in the summer of 1989, I saw one: a slightly overweight, dark-haired woman in her 40s, solid as you or I, clad in a white short-sleeved top and dark blue slacks, passing through the doorway from the other room of my two-room suite, into the room where I was. She stopped quite suddenly and stared at me, her eyes wide and her mouth open as if astonished. As we gazed at one another, she simply vanished.

I’ve never had an experience like that since, not even at the Guild. But I’ve certainly felt the presence of something. I find the building’s south side especially unsettling. Sometimes, while alone in the lobby, or working alone upstairs, I feel as if I’m being watched.

I’m looking for first-hand accounts of encounters with the building’s ethereal inhabitants. If you’d like to add your own experience to this page, drop me a line at webmaster@theaterguildwg.org
-- Don Love --

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The Cooper's Tale: The Kicked Seat

It was in the seat in the front row by the [south] wall. We were sitting there [watching a play], and it felt like somebody kicked the center of the seat right fom behind.

I looked around, looked at the wall (I thought it might be a pipe banging or something like that). I checked my cellphones. They were all off vibrate. No missed calls or anything on the display to indicate I had missed anything. I looked behind me. The entire second row was empty!

I looked at Bill [sitting next to me] and asked him, ‘‘Are you messing with me?’’

He said, ‘‘What? What do you mean?’’

I said, ‘‘Did you kick my chair?’’

‘‘No, I didn’t do anything. What’s the matter?’’

‘‘You didn’t feel that?’’

‘‘No.’’

The rhythm was different than a cellphone. A cellphone buzzes 3-3-3. The kicks went 3-2-3. They came from behind, and up from under dead center.

Bill could tell I was scared. He knew I wasn’t joking.
-- John Cooper

The Actor's Tale: The Turning Page

We were on stage rehearsing with our scripts in our hand. The AD’s script was lying on a speaker at the foot of the stage. When we all turned our page to go to the next,a page from the AD’s script turned with us. AT THE EXACT SAME TIME THAT WE TURNED OURS.

This happened in front of the whole cast. We checked for a draft to see if it could have been that, but we couldn't find one.
-- Matt Holtmann

The Webmaster’s Tale: Dark Descending Damsel

On three occasions, while locking the front door, the corner of my eye caught a glimpse through the window of something descending the staircase.

The first time, Barb Mulligan was standing behind me. I decided I’d merely seen her reflection, and that the door’s movement while closing, and the warps in the glass, had produced the illusion of motion.
The second time, I was alone. After some consideration, I decided that I must’ve seen the reflection of a passing car on Summit. I didn’t remember hearing a car; but it was possible that one could have passed without my noticing, and was long gone by the time I thought of it.
The third occasion took place at night. I couldn’t blame it on reflections this time: one does not see reflections on the outside of windows at night, just on the inside. And unlike on the first two occasions, I saw detail: the dark silhouette of a short, stocky woman in a long dress, her hair in a bun, her right hand on the rail as she turned the corner at the first landing and descended.
Now, I’m careful to always look down while locking or unlocking the Guild door.
-- Don Love

The Webmaster’s Second Tale: Wandering Pencil

A few years ago, I was working alone at the Guild one afternoon, setting lights for an upcoming show.

The director had placed a card table in front of the right-hand section of the audience seating. The tabletop was covered with junk.

I had a small stub of a pencil, and was about to set it down on the card table, when it occured to me that something that small would be really easy to lose in all that junk. So I got a gel holder (that’s a folded piece of sheet metal with a big circle cut out of the middle), put that on the table, then set the pencil down dead center in the big circle, right on the colored plastic. Easy to find, right?

I went off, did some work, then needed the pencil again, and came back for it. But it wasn’t there.

I thought, ‘‘You dummy! You picked it up, and forgot to put it back!’’

So, I found a different pencil and used that. When I finished, I came back to put the second pencil on the gel holder. But the original pencil stub was now back in place -- dead center , on the plastic.

That’s when I knew I was being played with.

I looked around, then told the air: ‘‘Good one!’’
-- Don Love Back to Main Menu
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