I worked at the Mayland from ‘66 thru '69. Great job for a high school kid – clean, and no heay lifting, although do I remember swabbibg out the men’s room many times after a hard rain. I left in early '69, and I’ve heard tales that one of the more elderly female concession stand workers had a massive heart attack and dropped dead on the sofa in the ladies room sometine in 1970. I remember this woman well and wonder if anyone on this board can verify that or is familiar with her.
I have heard all the stories about the place being haunted, and I was alone many times in the more inaccessible areas of the theatre, and never once had any sense of anything supernatural occurring.
By the way, Rex Anderson the stagehand quickly attained iconic status with the people that worked with hin during the time I was there. I can vividly remember him roaring up to the place about 3:30 pm in his Buick 225 (with a vinyl Landau roof, of course), retiring to the StageHand’s Room backstage for some liquid refreshment, emerging about 7:30 pm to pull the curtain, retiring to the StageHand’s Room backstage for some more liquid refreshment, and finally reappearing about 12:30 pm to close the curtain. He would occasionally emerge from his backstage habitat to irritate the Theatre manager (who actually had real work to do) with all sorts of spirit-fueled rantings and musings, such as:
“Just like the crack that never heals,
The more you rub it the better it feels.
But all the soap this side of Hell,
Won’t get rid of that codfish smell.”
I worked at the Mayland from ‘66 thru '69. Great job for a high school kid – clean, and no heay lifting, although do I remember swabbibg out the men’s room many times after a hard rain. I left in early '69, and I’ve heard tales that one of the more elderly female concession stand workers had a massive heart attack and dropped dead on the sofa in the ladies room sometine in 1970. I remember this woman well and wonder if anyone on this board can verify that or is familiar with her.
I have heard all the stories about the place being haunted, and I was alone many times in the more inaccessible areas of the theatre, and never once had any sense of anything supernatural occurring.
By the way, Rex Anderson the stagehand quickly attained iconic status with the people that worked with hin during the time I was there. I can vividly remember him roaring up to the place about 3:30 pm in his Buick 225 (with a vinyl Landau roof, of course), retiring to the StageHand’s Room backstage for some liquid refreshment, emerging about 7:30 pm to pull the curtain, retiring to the StageHand’s Room backstage for some more liquid refreshment, and finally reappearing about 12:30 pm to close the curtain. He would occasionally emerge from his backstage habitat to irritate the Theatre manager (who actually had real work to do) with all sorts of spirit-fueled rantings and musings, such as:
“Just like the crack that never heals,
The more you rub it the better it feels.
But all the soap this side of Hell,
Won’t get rid of that codfish smell.”
I’m think anyone who knew Rex can confirm.