The Shakespeare, sitting prominently on the busy corner of Albert St in Auckland’s congested CBD, was established in 1898 by Thomas Foley. Oddly enough, he was born in the old Shakespeare Hotel, owned by his parents, on Wyndham Street. Prior to owning the tavern, Thomas was the proprietor of a few other pubs around Auckland, the popular Star Hotel being one.
There have been a few stories of possible spooky residents through the years, though it all seems to have quietened down these days. Staff have claimed to be ”pushed while carrying a tray of glasses”, footsteps heard late at night, glasses rattling, and a purposeful sounding knocking on the walls.
There have been reports from those sleeping there of being ”pinned down by an invisible force” pulling the bedsheets tight, rendering the person unable to move. This mainly occurs to men and is usually in the ”blue-painted room upstairs.” A woman in Victorian attire has also been seen on the stairwell.
I have a memory of my own from back in the late 1980s. I was promoting local bands and organising gigs around the Central Auckland pub circuit, usually on Friday and Saturday nights. I had arranged for two bands to play at The Shakespeare. It was a Friday night, and I had to rush straight from my day job at a Printing company. It was a long night, and the patrons didn’t dissipate until about 2 a.m.
By then, I was shattered. I was in no state to drive home and was due to return to pack up equipment in a few hours anyway, so I decided to just stay the night in one of the upstairs rooms. I forget which level it was on—possibly the third. Unfortunately, those days have become a bit blurry these days.
It was an empty floor with a few old and dusty rooms, mostly used for storing old and decommissioned pub serving machines and equipment, old street signage, a very retro-looking cash register, packs of toilet paper rolls, Christmas decorations, etc.
I did my best to get comfortable on an old couch in the corner of one of the slightly tidier rooms. At six feet tall, my feet were hanging over the edge, so my few hours of kip weren’t the most pleasant. Around 4 am, I was woken by a few bangs and rapid-fire taps. On what, I was unsure.
Then, there was the sound of footsteps walking up and down the hallway. The door to the room was wide open, so I had a clear view out into the hall. The footsteps, solid shoes on wooden floorboards, heel-toe-heel-toe-toe-toe, passed the door numerous times. Yet I saw no one. It was quite unnerving, I won’t lie!
I got up to have a look and confirmed I was still alone in the empty, unused level of the building. As I was so tired, I forced myself back to sleep for another hour before dragging myself back downstairs to continue packing up the sound and lighting equipment.
