It was around Christmas 1933 and the cinema had been built so they had
a fireman come round and inspect the premises after the last show. It had gone
a little past midnight when the fireman entered the tea lounge when he saw a
figure approaching him. Thinking it was a burglar, the fireman turned on his torch.
The torchlight showed the figure to be of an elderly man with a wizened face, a
short beard and he was dressed in an oversized long white night shirt. This
figure headed towards the stairs, which led down to the vestibule, so the
fireman followed it.
As he did this,
the heavy closed doors leading to the stalls, suddenly swung wide open. The
fireman witnessed the figure float across the orchestra pit and then it landed
behind the footlights, in front of the curtain. The apparition turned to face
the fireman, whilst holding it’s hands aloft, whilst crying in a husky voice “I
won’t sell, I won’t sell” before completely vanishing!
Word got around
about this ghostly spectre and one of the adult nephews of the Robertson’s said
he believed this ghost was that of his uncle. He had worn an old fashioned
long, white night shirt and that where the spectre had cried out, had been the
exact spot where his den had once been. The fireman had known nothing about the
Robertson’s nor had he known of what had stood there before the cinema.
