Cursed Theaters by M.P. Pellicer

Cursed Theaters

5/12/2025

by M.P. Pellicer | Stranger Than Fiction Stories
Is there any truth to the unwritten law that any business built on consecrated grounds is bound to fail? There was one establishment that violated this belief more than any other which were theaters. These are stories where misfortune haunted these places.

Henri Drayton, as Marcel in Meyerbeer's Les Huguenots, considered one of his finest roles c.1870

The Brooklyn Theater was built on the site of the old St. John's Protestant Episcopal Church, also known as Hope Chapel. It was situated opposite Washington Place (on Broadway between Fourth Street and Astor Place). As noted in 1876, by the St. Louis Globe Democrat: "Here the ill-fated Henri Drayton and his wife gave their parlor opera entertainment, here the Holmans, Elise Holt, Lina Edwin and others met with financial disaster, until finally the building was burned to the ground, incurring a heavy loss upon all concerned".

Henri Drayton a well-known opera singer died from a stroke at age 49, in 1872. He left his wife destitute and without any money to bury him. Several theater managers took a collection so that he could be interred at Cypress Hills Cemetery in Brooklyn. She kept working in the theater.

On December 6, 1876 the Brooklyn Theater went up in flames, and the fire spread to the entire block. It originated on the stage when the gas set fire to the drapes. This occurred halfway through the last act of The Two Orphans. The blaze spread quickly and burst out the doors on Washington Street. The damage cost about $250,000.

View of the ruins--Site of the Staircase, by the falling of which so many lives were lost. 1. The Lobby. 2. The Gallery Stairs. 3. Ruins of the Audiotorium. 4. Flood's Alley c.1876

Smoke filled the theater and fainting women were trampled in the aisles. Some jumped out of the windows and were severely injured.

The theater company got out safely except a flyman named John Cumberson who was badly burned, and threw himself out of a second-story window to his death. Later Henry Murdock and Claude Burroughs, two actors were found dead. They were recognized by their clothing. Murdock's body was missing its arms and legs.

Those who were injured were taken to the Long Island College Hospital. By the next day about 300 bodies burned beyond recognition were recovered. The theater had seating for 1,800 persons.

A common grave was dug at Greenwood Cemetery for 103 unidentified victims. Many of those who lost their lives were seated in the highest tier, which offered the cheapest seats. Only one stairway offered a way of escape, and it quickly became jammed with desperate people trying to escape.

The Brooklyn Theatre before the catastrophic fire on December 05, 1876. Furthest from the camera, behind the tree, is the Dieter Hotel. The theater has a tall, mansard roof. Next door to the right is the First Precinct Station House. The U. S. Post Office is further to the right.

It was then noted the Brooklyn Theater did not have a brilliant record. It was built by F.B. Conway and his wife in 1871, and they ran it efficiently. However the Conways died in rapid succession, he in September 1874, and his wife who was only 41 years old in April, 1875. Mrs. Conway lost $12,000 in the venture. After Mrs. Conway's death it was managed, not so well by her daughters.

Coincidentally the play The Two Orphans was the same one playing when Mrs. Conway died, and the theater caught fire.

It was next leased to Theodore Moss of Wallack's Theater, but Mr. Wallack refused to lend his name to the enterprise. Moss backed out of the deal when he realized he could not benefit from Wallack's name, and forfeited what he had paid. Due to its high rent it sat unoccupied until it was taken over by Messrs. Shook and Palmer. The theater never covered its expenses while being operated by them.

The Brooklyn career of the late Mr. and Mrs. B. F. Conway was one, that up to the time of their occupancy of the doomed house, was peculiarly brilliant and successful. At their old house, the Park Theater, they gave a series of legitimate entertainments that did a good deal to keep the steady Brooklynites in their own city at night, to patronize home amusements, and so successful were they that they amassed nearly $80,000 by their venture.

The success of the Park theater induced some leading Brooklynites to erect a more pretentious establishment, and compete with the New York houses for popular favor and patronage. Casting around for a site, they came across St. John's Church and Burying Ground, the location of which, contiguous to the leading thoroughfare, appeared to them to be the most advantageous that could be found in the city.

The ground was purchased, and about five years ago the old church was torn down and the Brooklyn Theater erected at a cost of over $200,000. Those who had friends in the cemetery, and possessed the necessary funds, had the bodies removed; but there were many who did not possess the funds, others who had moved away from the city, and so it was that, when the theater was built, many bodies remained in the vaults, and it was averred that in damp weather the exhalations from there made the actors' dressing rooms almost unbearable.

It is avowed by friends of the late Mrs. Conway that, although a woman of sound, practical common sense, from the moment of the selection of the site, she expressed the strongest aversion to it, declaring that what she considered the desecration would inevitably result in disaster, and to her dying day she maintained this belief.

Notwithstanding her fears and, in some measure, those of her husband, the theater was built, and the Conways took possession of it as lessees. It is needless to rehearse now the sad story of their failure, nor how they sunk in the new house everything they had made in the old.

Brooklyn Theater looking east down Johnson Street toward Adams Street, shortly after the December 5, 1876 fire

It seemed that many could not forget that the Brooklyn Theater was built on the site of a church and its adjacent graveyard.

Before long stories circulated that it was haunted. If it was shut up tight at night, as soon as the lights were extinguished, scenery on the stage would flap in a strong wind with no earthly source. Those passing the theater in the night would hear strange noises and shadowy figures flitted in and out of the doorway.

The Conway's living quarters were in the highest floor, and once darkness fell Mrs. Conway refused to enter the theater. Her fear that something supernatural walked the halls must have made her life very unhappy.

The crowning blow to her success came about two years after the first occupancy of the theater, when one night her husband fell on the stage in a fit of mortal sickness, and two weeks later died. On his deathbed he expressed the belief, it is said, that had he left the cursed and haunted Brooklyn Theater alone he might have lived to a good old age, for he was a man with every indication of stalwart health and longevity.

The death of her husband was a great blow to Sarah Conway's sensitive nature, but she was a bold and persevering woman and struggled bravely on to make the Brooklyn Theater a success, having secured the services of John P. Smith as her business manager. Her efforts were however unavailing. Things went from bad to worse, and finally just two years after her husband's death, Mrs. Conway died in her private apartments above the theater.

Weird and unearthly sounds were heard in the theater that night. Mike the janitor, with four other friends, whose names he now refuses to give, were sitting together in his room. Mrs. Smith and her family were at Mrs. Conway's deathbed, and the moment she died, the time taken by Mrs. Smith and Mike corresponding exactly, the janitor and his friends heard raps upon the wall and sighs in the air. Mike says now that he will not swear whether these raps and sounds were supernatural, but he is willing to swear that he heard them and that they caused him and his friends a severe fright.

Others have exaggerated these views, but the faithful janitor is evidently too much in earnest about the matter to put anything but the utmost confidence in his story.

After the death of Mr. and Mrs. Conway their two pretty daughters attempted to run the Brooklyn Theater, but were no more successful than their parents, until finally it was closed, and remained so until Messrs. Shook and Palmer took possession, and would seem to have been redeeming it from its old time misfortune when the fire came to sweep it out of existence. The reputation of the house being haunted never left it.

Mr. Thorpe, the stage manager, described that when he first moved into his quarters in the theater, those originally occupied by the Conways, he was told that he would surely see a wandering spirit in the form of a woman. Mr. Thorpe, however appears to be a man who takes but little stock in ghosts, and he stoutly asserts that the spirit of the dead female never troubled him, nor was he disturbed by any other natural voices.

The school life of his clever little daughter, Hattie, who is well known to New York and Brooklyn audiences, was made very uncomfortable by the ghost story. Her school companions constantly rallied her upon it and that poor child actually thought there must be a ghost, so often was she told of it, and so firm were her companions that such an uncomfortable wraith must have some more tangible existence than in mere rumor.

Messrs. E. Lamb and H. B. Phillips, two comedians when questioned on the subject, stated that although they had been connected with the Brooklyn Theater for some time they had heard no noises nor seen any trepidation among any of the employees. Mr. Lamb, though, said he had been told that the house had been built on ground formerly occupied by a church and cemetery, but could give no definite information.

At this moment, Mike, who had been janitor of the building since its occupancy by the Conways, made his appearance and related the experience of himself and friends on the night of Mrs. Conway's death. On being asked if he knew whether the theater had been built on the site of a church he replied, "Why, of course it was. The other day, when we were digging out the bodies, I found an old gravestone and I should think that ought to be proof enough." He strictly refused to be interviewed further, and made a precipitate retreat when pressed to tell more of the strange sounds and sights that had been heard and seen.

The establishment of the fact that there was a partly filled graveyard where the theater stood suggests however, a startling theory. It is just possible, even more than probably, that some of the unsightly and disfigured remains discovered amidst the ruins of the fire were those of bodies that had been laid away in the old church-yard. It is a well known fact that bodies wills sometimes lie in the ground for many years, retaining the flesh and the bones, resisting the action of the elements.

The disagreeable exhalations experienced in the dressing rooms in damp weather would seem to point to the fact that there were such bodies here, and among the unrecognized dead who were heaped into that ghastly trench at Greenwood last Saturday, who knows but what there may be some who years ago were buried in the St. John Churchyard by loving hands, surrounded by all that friendship and tenderness could suggest, to rob the grave of its terror and its gloom.

Whether this were so, it will probably never be known, but the finding of the gravestone proves that such bodies there must have been among the remains of the wretched ones who, on the night of that fatal 5th of December, met their death amidst fire and smoke. The burning of the theater itself, the ill fortune that attended it before its ruin, and the unexplained noises heard within its walls, are all curious coincidences in the history of theaters built upon consecrated ground, and the results that have followed what is looked upon by so many as a desecration.

1868 drawing of a street scene in front of the altered but recognizable exterior of the Church of the Messiah

The story repeated itself where theaters built on hallowed ground seemed destined to fail. Coincidence? The Brooklyn Theater became an example of how virulent that curse could be.

The Unitarian church better known as the Church of the Messiah was erected at 728-730 Broadway in 1839. It remained a church until 1864. In 1865 it was sold to Alexander Turney Stewart who converted it into a theater and named it the Broadway Athenaeum. Between then and 1884 it went through 14 different incarnations, the last one being the New Theatre Comique. It burned down two days before Christmas in 1884. The fire was discovered by a scrubwoman who arrived at 7 a.m. and found the stage ablaze. She ran into the road, screaming "Fire!" Luckily the theater was empty of guests, however people staying at the Colonnade Hotel next door had to evacuate.

The structure was uninsured, and the loss fell entirely on Judge Henry Hilton who owned the building. To the north of the theatre at 32 Broadway and separated from the theatre by a narrow alley was the Mundorff & Moench beer saloon. In the alleyway was the famous "Hole in the Wall" where actors from the theater would gather to drink "copious libations" of lager beer and stronger drinks.

What was originally the Church of the Messiah, with the Rev. Dr. Osgood as pastor was transformed by A. T. Stewart into a theater, buxom Lucy Rushton being the opening star. Here too, came the Worrell Sisters.

Daly first produced the 'Streets of New York' at this house. Poor Mark Smith and Lewis Baker ran it as a burlesque theater. Lady Don was at one time a star here. It has been variety and concert hall, and to the present time it has been a source of pecuniary disaster to many who have undertaken its management.

The 14th Street Theatre when it went by the name of the Lyceum c.1871

The Fourteenth Street Theatre was located at 107 West 14th Street just west of Sixth Avenue in Manhattan, New York City. It was built in 1866, and within 20 years it was considered an "unlucky" establishment. It became known as a sinkhole for money that drove men insane and hurried them to their death.

It opened for a performance of the Theatre Francais, and was in the hands of Juignet and Drivet. The play failed since the majority of theater goers were American. It subsequently went to the management of different persons, who were rich and of "fashionable habits."

It sat empty since no one had the confidence to lease it. The name was changed to the 14th Street Theater, and it hosted a short-lived English opera. For three or four years it was periodically opened for some show, which invariably closed down without warning. Operatic, dramatic, burlesque, variety troupes — none succeeded.

Edwin Forrest in his younger years (1806-1872)

Tickets would be sold, and then the theater would be closed when the time for performance arrived.

The theater was the last place notable actor Edwin Forrest played at. He had retired in 1858 but surfaced in 1863 and 1867. In 1881, at the age of 65 he appeared at the 14th Street Theater. The dramatic actor was accused of taking an opportunity to exhibit himself, even if the location was of the poorest sort, and that he was a "sovereign egotist" as he had always been.

Even the actor's name could not draw crowds as planned, and Forrest demanded his pay each night before going on. If he was not paid he refused to act, which is why the play closed suddenly. He returned to Philadelphia and died from apoplexy in December, 1872, only ten months after his appearance at the notorious 14th Street Theater, which of course was blamed for his death.

Adelaide Ristori (1822-1906)

The ill luck continued, until they contracted Adelaide Ristori (Marquess del Grillo), which proved profitable. However the manager Jacob Grau fell ill of an incurable disease and died a lingering death.

It was noted: "If a man gained any financial advantage there, he must suffer in some other way." Grau paid with his life just as Forrest had.

When Hezekiah Linthicum Bateman brought the first opera bouffe troupe to what was then known as the "mortuary temple" many prophesized ill fortune for him. The French show did well. Afterward he leased the Lyceum and when he was at the apex of his prosperity, he died suddenly in 1875 at the age of 62. Many thought the curse of the 14th Street Theater had reached him even across the sea.

Watt Sherman owned the establishment in 1875, and suffered a financial downfall. This was attributed to his connection to the theater.

Charles Fechter (1824-1879)

Then the theater was leased by Charles Fechter, and renamed as the Lyceum after the theater he controlled in London. Perhaps he thought this would alter his luck. He was an actor renown for his roles in La Dame aux Camellias, Hamlet and Othello. He convinced Sherman Watts he could redeem the reputation of the theater, and even gained permission to make vast improvements to the the building. No one could understand why Watts agreed, since Fechter was known to be erratic, impracticable and quarreled with nearly everyone he worked with in Paris and London.

In the middle of the renovations Fechter and Watts had a falling out, and Fechter was fired. He had spent close to $250,000 in the construction of what was considered in unfeasible project that had to be undone, and the money was wasted. He started to drink in excess and died in 1879 at the age of 54. He was considered a victim of the curse.

Next on the bad luck train was J.H. Haverly of Chicago, who had leased different theaters across the country, and had always been successful.

Bartley Campbell (1843-1888)

He dubbed it Haverly's Fourteenth Street Theater. He did well, but only for a time before all his undertakings tumbled with him.

Harrigan and Hart had built up a profitable theatrical business. They refused to pay an exorbitant price for a lease at the New Park, and instead leased the "notorious home of destruction." Previously they had crowded houses, however their audiences fell off at once. They steadily lost money and at the close of the season they retired, and were known to cross themselves whenever they passed the building.

The partnership was also affected. They ended up dissolving it permanently. The disagreement had started when they were at the 14th Street Theater.

The last was Bartley Campbell, a successful playwright. He leased the theater in 1886 and his luck deserted him. He not only lost his money but also his wits. He had a temporary recovery, but died in July 1888 at the age of 44, in an insane asylum at Middletown, New York where he had been confined for two years.

Civic Repertory Theatre c.1938

His cause of death was paresis and softening of the brain, which is specifically link to syphilis. Upon his death it was found he had lost a fortune estimated to be worth $350,000, leaving his widow and children destitute.

Even before Campbell's death, it was noted it had lost hundreds of thousands of dollars for its owners, managers and actors. Why had it not been pulled won to give place to something else, considering it was the unluckiest theater in all civilization?

Despite its atrocious reputation by the mid 1910s it was being used as a movie theatre. In 1926, Eva Le Gallienne renamed it the Civic Repertory Theatre, and ran productions and acting classes from it. The Great Depression had the last word and it closed in 1934, and was demolished in 1938.