My wife and
I have tickets this summer to three productions at the Lakewood Theater, which
is located about twenty miles north of us on a beautiful rural lake shore.
The Lakewood
is designated the theater of Maine. It
is the oldest theater in constant production in the U.S.; founded in 1901 – now
beginning its 117th. Season.
Besides
being known as the theater where many thespians honed their trade before moving
to Broadway, the Lakewood is also haunted – or so it is claimed.
The ground
the Lakewood sits on was once the site of an Indian settlement, then in the
late 1800’s a spiritualist community was located there.
Of course, the Theater is haunted.
It would have to be...displaced Indians, disgruntled spiritualists, the energy of thousands of actors...
In the two decades plus that CUE has been at Lakewood the reports, stories, rumors, sightings, and sensations have been numerous and remarkably similar. Common experiences include:
A man has been observed watching rehearsal from the balcony. The greenish outline of a person moves back and forth in the balcony. Heavy footfalls start at the back of the balcony, come down the right side of the theater, and the side door to the wings is heard to open and shut. Actors in the wings have experienced the sensation of being unable to move and a cold breeze passes by. On the warmest of August days there are cold, damp, "make your skin crawl," icy pockets throughout the theater. Many actors claim to hear conversations that they can't quite understand and there is no one else in the room.
Several no-nonsense type actors have heard musical numbers being sung as they hurry to rehearsal and then finding stage is empty upon arrival. In the days of the temperamental old light board, actors could break for lunch, lock the Theater, and return to find the lights "all set."
There has always been noise and activity from Herbert's office. In the age of computers the clickety-clack of an old typewriter fills a quiet afternoon. The sound of drawers being opened, papers being shuffled, someone walking upstairs, coming down the stairs, the muffled sound of a telephone conversation...all part of the Box Office experience.
There is spirit at Lakewood.
There are spirits at Lakewood.
The idea of
ghost is fanciful, and people would like to believe their existence, just as
they would like to believe in gods and devils and angles and heavens; but
reason and common sense defies that lack of logic.
You were
born naked. Clothing is a vanity and
protection from the elements; but clothing is not alive and is not a part of
you. If ghost existed, they would be
naked. You would see fat dead uncle a Poopy,
who always wanted to bounce you on his knee, gliding down the stairs like
Donald Trump on an escalator, with all his junk swinging in the breeze. Now that’s scary!
But people
always see ghost with clothes on… In
Vicksburg Confederate Park people claim to have seen a Confederate Officer in
full dress riding a white horse. Is
there a ghost clothing locker, ghost swords and pistols and ghost horses? Why is the beautiful female ghost always
dressed in a gossamer night gown when she floats through you room at the
haunted Inn? Logically ghost would be
naked.
And exactly
at what point in evolution do our ancestors qualify for ghost after death
statue? Are there Neanderthal ghosts;
is there the naked ghost of Lucy wandering somewhere on the plains of Africa? Do only homo-sapiens qualify for
ghostiness? (Ok, I made that word
up.)
Ghost are
like fairies and big foot and angles. People
see what they want to see. People
believe what they want to believe. At
least, that is what I believe.
the Ol’Buzzard
If I am ever
haunted by a ghost I hope it is this one:
