Tommy Karr

In the 1999-2000 season, I was cast as a swing in Tapestry: a Review Based on the Music of Carole King at the Clarence Brown Theatre back home in Knoxville, Tennessee.  My female swing-counterpart was one of my best friends, Ashley. I’m not sure if you’ve ever been a swing before but they are typically some of the most talented cast members because they have to be prepared to jump into a role at any moment. For us, it was less thrilling as there was no expectation we’d ever perform.

The show was very straight forward.  A couple of actors playing a couple of friends over a couple of years all to the music of Carole King (long before Beautiful became a Broadway hit).  Simple set, simple staging, simply Ashley and I sitting in the house taking notes, but mostly gossiping about the day.

Jimmy Brimer, our beloved mentor and musical director, had taken the band to the lobby to rehearse without the actors.  It was their first night all together and he wanted to run the songs without the actors so the musicians could work out any kinks.  Watching Jimmy leave with the musicians, Ashley and I decided to slip away and enjoy their music for a break.  When musicians join the show it can be very exciting.  You’re hearing the songs full-out for the first time.  You get a sense of how big the show is now that there’s this other piece of the puzzle that is finally fitting into place.  Hell… we’d have been excited by dust in the sunbeams at this point.  So off we went to the lobby, trailing behind the band.  (We looked like preppy groupies tagging along behind this motley crew of student musicians.)

We listened for a while as the band made it through “So Far Away” and “You’ve Got a Friend” but eventually boredom struck again. The band was great, but getting through eight or ten measures and then stopping to correct something left us falling back into boredom.  It was a little like being stuck in traffic, going five feet and then stopping again because of heavy congestion on the expressway.

As a child who loved exploring the woods around my house, seeking adventure had always come naturally. So I turned to Ashely, “Have you ever been to the catwalks?” I said this, pointing to a non-descript door in the lobby just to the left of the concession stand and almost directly by Jimmy. Ashely said she hadn’t. I had. They were the kind of dark and spooky fun that any college age kid would love. “They’re so scary,” I said and we headed toward the door that lead from the lobby to stairs leading up to the stage manager’s booth, which would then lead up a second flight of stairs that would take us to the machine room, which would lead us out across the catwalks that hung above the audience.  It was only a few feet behind Jimmy but he didn’t notice as we walked away and into the stairwell.

Now, be assured that there was nothing unusual about the night.  We’d been to rehearsal for weeks now and nothing bizarre had happened.  But this night suddenly shifted into something very off.

We climbed up the first seven or eight steps, not yet to the first turning landing, when we hesitated. Something in the air crackled. We looked back t the light coming through the door from the lobby. It felt very much like the wardrobe to Narnia and we we were the Pevensie children heading into an unknown world. The sensation gave us pause and we stopped to look back. There was the door, wide open, lights on, Jimmy a few feet outside leading the band into “Smackwater Jack”. But something still felt very off. We stared at the door, and it’s comforting light for a second, when we saw a hand reach out from under the steps and push the door shut. This hand was supposedly attached to a body but we couldn’t see it because of the turn in the staircase. Whether the door slammed closed or simply clicked shut, I can’t remember. But as it did, the light from the lobby was gone and then, hearing the clear click of the light switch, the lights went out and we were in complete darkness. My body froze and I could feel Ashley grip my arm from the step above.

“Wha…?” Ashley managed a terrified whisper. Someone or something had pushed the door shut and then switched off the lights leaving us in the pervasive blackness of limbo.  The stairwell had no windows as it was an interior climb and only a hint of light peered through the crack beneath the door.

I could feel my chest shaking.  Whatever had shut the door and turned off the lights had to be in here with us.

“Jimmy!!” We both screamed after a minute.  Nothing.  No answer. “JIMMY!!?”  Still nothing. He was literally five or so feet away from us, on the other side of an old door. How could he not hear us scream?

We stood silently.  Ashley tightened her grip on my arm but I was so in shock it didn’t register. I felt a mix of terror, exhaustion and numbness all at once.

“What do we do?” She finally asked… still hushed fearing that our mysterious companion would hear us.

It took everything I had to get breath to talk, “Climb.”  But still neither of us moved.  The thought that if we shifted even slightly that we might touch whatever was with us was too much.

A few moments passed when Ash asked, “When?”  At that we broke a little of the spell that was on us and in unison took a step up.  Then another. Then another. We were Daphne and Shaggy tiptoeing slowly and quietly through darkness. Nothing in front of us. At least not immediately. But the sense that our guest might touch us or bump us continued to fill our hearts with pounding blood.

Our feet reached the landing that would turn and lead to the second floor. Without saying a word to each other, we both bolted, charging up the steps to the second floor and fumbling over the next landing and turning up to the third (and final) floor to the machine room above. The beating in my ears sounded like footsteps behind us or perhaps they were footsteps behind us. But still our hands reached out, praying for a doorknob and not another body.

Found it!

The door swung open.  No one was inside the long hallway of machinery. No one ever was really.  The room was an attic and housed the air conditioning system for the theatre.  It was pitch black but I knew where to go.  We hurried past giant metal boxes, all whirring and banging, air shooting past our faces as we desperately sped to the other end of the long room. Still my heart was pounding, impersonating boots crashing quickly on the floor behind us. We were now both Indiana Jones, escaping traps and hurtling ourselves out of harm’s way.

For years there were rumors of this or that ghost, like any theatre, and I’d seen some odd things (that’s another post for another time) but no one had ever mentioned a ghost in the stairwell before.

Finally!  The doorknob that lead out of the machine room and onto the catwalks.

We slowly pushed open the door, knowing we had to be quiet. The catwalks were noisy things, clamoring with each step, and we couldn’t disturb the rehearsal that was happening some 75 feet below. But as the door fully swung open, there stood a man… or rather a shadow. A solid shadow standing on the catwalk in our path. He had no features. He was darker than the darkness around him. He wore a hat, possibly a top hat, but definitely one with a brim. We slammed the door shut.

“What the…?” Our backs pressed against the door, keeping it closed. Our options were to go back the way we came and face whatever paranormal creeper was waiting for us in the stairwell or we could reopen the door and rush past the shadow person. Ashley and I locked eyes, acknowledging we had only one option, and threw the door open.

It was gone. For now. We immediately began running. Even being terrified of heights I ran, Ashley following, straight across the grated metal path.  Our shoes hit the metal, clanging and rattling the rails.  It sounded like anvils falling onto sheet metal and the echo, along with my heart which was about to burst through my ribs, just reminded me that any one of those noises could be the entity behind us.

Looking down, we could see the cast below us as we crossed through the small cutout in the proscenium that lead us above the stage itself.  We flew past the fly rail and finally hit the spiral staircase that lead down to the stage floor… and to safety.

I don’t remember touching any of the steps.  It felt like we slid straight down leaving the terror above us. The cast was still on stage so we dashed through the stage door, into the small hall that connected to the green room and threw open the green room door and crashed onto the couches desperate for breath, for our legs to stop wobbling, for our hearts to slow down just a little.

It might have been the most terrifying night of my life… in terms of horror. Whatever chased us didn’t catch us.  We survived the fear and after half an hour couldn’t help but laugh.  There’s something cathartic about sharing a scary experience like that.  Ashley and I were closer… instantly.

After catching our breath we decided to rejoin the cast and headed back to the stage.

They were starting a break and heading our way as we walked through the stage door.  “Where have you two been?” one of them asked.

I looked at Ashley, “You didn’t hear us running across the catwalk just now?”  She asked.

They were dumbfounded.  They just stared at us as if we just landed from Planet Crazy.

“No,” they said together.  None of them heard us.  Kennedy, our stage manager, didn’t notice anything.  And when we asked Jimmy why he hadn’t answered our cry for help, he replied, “What are you two talking about?” and continued, “We must have been playing loudly.”  Perhaps.

We explained our story to everyone… all of whom found it amazing, if not slightly unbelievable.  It didn’t matter.  Ashley and I knew it happened.  We knew we’d had this terrifying and yet somehow amazing experience together.  And we knew that we would NEVER go into the stairwell alone or without a flashlight.