I spent the majority of my childhood and young adult years in various aspects of show business and heard all kinds of stories about theatres being haunted. I sometimes think managers made up some of the stories because what’s a theatre without a ghost, right? This incident didn’t happen at one of the theatres where I worked. Instead it took place at a local community center where I spent a lot of time in rehearsals. I was about twenty-one years old.
I’m preparing for another rehearsal and have my arms full of costumes and props as I approach the door to the building. As I get closer, I begin to shift all the stuff in my arms so I can get a hand free to open the door. I’m having trouble because I’m carrying way too much. Just as I get about four feet from the door, it swings open. Not a little bit. It opens enough for me to get through with all the stuff I’m carrying and stops as though someone is holding it. Only there’s no one on the other side.
I chuckle nervously and step inside then turn and say, “Thank you.” I watch in amazement as the door closes itself and latches.
I stand there staring at the large, heavy metal door with the push bar. I’ve been coming to this place on a regular basis since I was fifteen years old, so I know for a fact it’s not easy to open. Even when other doors in the facility are opened and it’s windy out, there isn’t enough cross breeze to open it. It’s too heavy.
I stride down the hallway, glancing back to see if the door will open again but it doesn’t. When I get into the rehearsal studio, my choreographer and good friend is already here.
He looks at me and says, “You look spooked. What happened?”
I tell him everything and ask if it’s ever happened to him. No, it hasn’t. And he’s here even more than I am. As other performers arrive, we tell them the story and ask if any of them ever had a similar experience with any of the exterior doors. Nope. Not a one. They rib me about having my own personal ghost valet and we all get a good laugh.
I came and went through that door many times after that day with my arms full, but it never opened like that again. I have no explanation other than it was a very odd occurrence. I lost that choreographer and good friend a few years later to a deadly disease, but whenever I see a heavy metal door with a push bar, I think of him and that building and my personal ghost valet.