In the 1970's, when I worked casually at the Palace Theatre, I heard many strange tales.
One, in particular, fascinated me.
The Palace Theatre still retained the orchestra pit in front of the stage. I would walk down past the stalls, past the orchestra pit, through a side door near the stage. Finally I passed a narrow, black, spiral, wrought iron staircase.
And here is where the tale begins.
Often, I would feel a chill pocket of air. It was not a draught. It was like the air, in a particular spot, was a decidely lower temperature than the surrounding air. It was almost as if the air was wrapping around me.
Usherettes told me they had heard that a ringer (a curtain ringer) had always wanted to be an actor. For some reason, the closest he could get to the stage was his job as a ringer. One night, when he finally brought down the curtain after a live show, he was caught in the ropes, swung to the top of the curtain, and then plummeted to his death in the orchestra pit.
Apparently, he used the spiral staircase to check the ropes and curtain.
Was the chill in the air, his presence still in the theatre?
When the Palace was demolished, I believe the Menzies Hotel near Wynyard Station, bought the spiral staircase. I wonder if "the chill" went with it?
I measure out my life with haiku. My camera films my soul. ~ Gemma Wiseman
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- A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawn mower is broken. ~James Dent
- Autumn is an introspective season when stray thoughts of the mind dive into the mystique of the soul - Gemma Wiseman
- Autumn is the bridesmaid of Summer and the flowergirl of Winter ~ Gemma Wiseman
- Autumn whispers the tones of yesterday in a minor key ~ Gemma Wiseman
- Love is born / With a dark and troubled face, / When hope is dead / And in the most unlikely place; / Love is born, / Love is always born. - Michael Leunig's Christmas Song Cycle "Southern Star"
- Spring paints the stars of heaven in Earth colours ~ Gemma Wiseman
- Summer sizzles with a sibilant hush / Broken by dreams of / Clinking ice ~ Gemma Wiseman
- The object of a new year is not that we should have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul. - G.K. Chesterton
- Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all. - Stanley Horowitz
- Winter is the fire, simmering lonely in the soul ~ Gemma Wiseman
- Winter is the shadow, the etching of the seasons in the mist ~ Gemma Wiseman
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