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Ghost and Gas: the legend of Adelaide and the haunting of the Nelson Performing Arts Center
By Kimball Bennion
Trail Staff Writer
The poster said NWC: GAS. There’s something about that word that draws a person’s attention.
Admit it, you’re reading this article right now because you saw GAS in all caps. That must have been the intention of the person who designed the poster found on the Hinckley Library’s bulletin board. Whether it was or not is of very little import. What does matter is that it caught the eye of a Northwest Trail staff member.
So that Monday, the day when the Trail staff discusses story ideas for the next week’s paper, NWC: GAS was brought up and I was assigned to cover it.
I was informed that GAS is an acronym for Ghost Awareness Society. Why not? Being aware is important to people. I’ve heard of mental health awareness, breast cancer awareness and world overpopulation awareness, but ghost awareness was a first.
To some, a ghost awareness society may seem just wacky. But in researching exactly what the society planned on doing for their first meeting, it all made perfect sense, for it was to take place in the Nelson Performing Arts Center.
For those who don’t have such an awareness, there is a pretty cool ghost story behind our very own auditorium. According to the book Ghosts on the Range: Eerie True Tales of Wyoming by Debra D. Munn, which features a chapter about the haunted NPA, the first spooky occurrences began in the early 1970s.
Kermit Herd, who was then an assistant professor of theater at NWC (yes, we did have a theater program back in the day), reported such paranormal mischief as torn-up sets and offices, mysterious offenders messing with lights and a rocking chair moving on its own during a dress rehearsal.
One drama student even reported seeing a ghostly apparition in the auditorium’s green room. He was alone one night writing dirty limericks on the chalkboard when he got the feeling that he was not as alone as he thought. He looked over his shoulder and saw a woman standing there, smiling at him. Needless to say, he was out of there faster than you could say “Nantucket.” From then on, the ghost was known as Adelaide.
In recent years, at least to my knowledge, no one has reported actually seeing Adelaide, but even now, if you’re lucky, you may see where she sits. It’s a theater seat in the front row, the third from the left in the middle aisle, and it can often be found in the down position, as if some unseen person were sitting in it.
So I made a few phone calls and arranged to meet with the Ghost Awareness Society’s founder, student Renee Worley. “I am intrigued by the unknown,” she said as she explained her reasons behind the formation of the society.
What’s more, she even showed me a picture she took with her cell phone of the famous front row seat in its mysterious down position.
On Tuesday night, one week before Halloween, a loosely organized group of friends with a few curious stragglers such as myself met as the first-ever Northwest College Ghost Awareness Society.
We toured the haunted halls, stages and green rooms of the Nelson Auditorium and listened to the eerie accounts of the places we stood in.
After no more than a half-hour, the group adjourned as sporadically as it had commenced. A well-meaning GAS member referred me to the book I cited previously, and I went on my way. The future of GAS is unknown as of yet.
Some students and faculty who know NPA best may want to play the skeptic. I was impressed with GAS because they were brave enough not to.
These aren’t crazy conspiracy-theorists trying to prove the truth of an episode of X-Files they saw once. Simply put, they can’t resist a tantalizing local legend such as Adelaide.
Ask a skeptic if they believe that where they work and study the most is haunted, and they’ll tell you of course not. But I can bet that on those nights when they’re alone in the auditorium and they have to be the ones to lock up for the night, they make sure to do it as fast as possible.
Just as they’re about to exit, and the doors of the theater catch their field of peripheral vision, they may even ask themselves if her seat is down.
“Of course not,” will reply their voice of logic, “why even check, it’s a waste of time! I’ve got to get to bed anyway.” That, of course, isn’t the real reason they avoid it. The truth is they’re afraid of what they’ll do when they do find it down.
The Ghost Awareness Society is made up of those who would go in and check. Just in case. And if it was down, they’d take out their cell phones and snap a photo.
On the night of our tour, we saw no ghosts, nor heard any other-worldly sounds, but who’s to say that there wasn’t an extra tourist there with us? After all, her seat was up, and there wasn’t a whole lot else going on.Adelaide, if you’re reading this, I apologize for the lack of limericks. I know you like those best.