I started my first job at the age of 15, having failed my 11 plus examination, my father could not see any point in me staying on at school for a further year, and thought it best that I got myself a job. I was envious of my fellow pupils who had passed and were on their way to high school.
The last day of my secondary school education was in someways sad, I had made many friends and was about to venture out into an unsecure future.I had no idea what I wanted to do, was not very adept at anything except running, when at one time I had run the mile in 5 minutes and 35 seconds, a school record which awarded me a trip with my sportsmaster to the White City to see the AAA Championships. As I said my farewells to my classmates I walked across the playground to the school gate on my way home, when the headmaster called me back and informed me that a job had been posted for school leavers which might suit me. The position was for a junior with a local newspaper, general clerical work and office duties.The interview went well and I started two weeks later.
Mrs.Swanson was my immediate superior, she delegated work for me and was the main secretary for 3 reporters and advertising staff. The newspaper was printed every Wednesday,and one of my duties was to ensure that latest copies were filed weekly and archived in the registry. These two rooms were in the basement of the building, and contained copies of the newspapers dating back several years.A spiral staircase led down from the ground floor into the first room and then a second door led into the registry which had a very long table, two chairs and overhead lighting. This is where I registered the latest copies and entered them into two large binders on the table. This room always made me feel claustophobic, as there were no windows and was deathly silentI did not look forward to descending into this area, for some reason on several occassions I felt uncomfortable, as if something or somebody was looking at me.
This was my third week with the newspaper and I was once again filing and logging newspapers into the binders. As I was sitting at the table a movement caught my eye, a page on top of a pile of newspapers at the far end of the table turned over,very slowly. My first thoughts were that a sudden breeze had caused this to happen, but as I stared another page turned over and then the rest in rapid succession. I stood up and moved very slowly towards the end of the table, hoping to feel some draught or breeze that might have caused this.The pages remained open but I could not detect any draught on or around the table. Apprehension set in as I tried to find an explanation for what I had seen, and I was very wary of touching the newspaper still lying open on top of the table.I made by way back to the stairway through the second room wondering if I should mention my experience to Mrs.Swanson, although she seemed very straight laced and would probably tell me I was imagining things.
The next few days I tried to avoid and became very reluctant to go down the stairs to the newspaper registry. I felt my experience had to be told, but Mrs Swanson was not the person to confide in, although there was one possibility and that was Richard Carter. He was a junior reporter whom I conversed with often and found common ground with during our discussions. One afternoon I approached him with a roundabout question, asking him if he had ever felt uncomfortable in the registry, as I knew he would now and again go down to check on past stories and reports. He asked me why I had confronted him with this question, I felt this was the right moment to relate my story to him. Having listened intently to my experience and admitted that he also had felt uneasy, and on several occassions experienced unexplained encounters which puzzled him, but like most had remained silent.
On one occassion he had been down in the registry checking a story which had been written a few years before, and which he needed to update information for his latest editorial. While sitting at the table and taking notes of the report, he noticed the room had become extremely cold, and as he went to leave the room the flourescent lights began to flicker and went out. He became uneasy and made his way to the outer room where the lights also flickered and went out. He confessed that there must be some logical explanation for what had happened, but duly admitted to me that he was reluctant to descend the spiral staircase into the registry, unless it was absolutely necessary.
I felt contented about his story, at least someone had experiences uneasiness in the lower rooms. Two weeks later Mrs Swanson had prepared an inventory list for me to check in the registry, this involved checking all files which had been updated and making sure binders had been signed off. The previous two weeks for me had been a bonus, most of the time I had been working around the main office, and had not been down to the registry except for a moment to retrieve a binder for the editor. My avoidance of the registry had come to an end, the task before me would take at least a day or two, and there was no Richard Carter to boost my confidence, he was on a weeks vacation.
As I descended the spiral staircase, I felt immediately a fear that I was once again being watched. My movements of walking from the outer room to the inner felt heavy and laborious. I sat down at the table with the binders I had retrieved from the outer room and began to check entries as provided by Mrs. Swanson. Things were going quite well and after half an hour I thought that maybe I would go back upstairs for a cup of tea. As I arose from the table something caught my attention, the door which led from the inner registry had closed, I was sure it had been open when I came through. Numbness and inner panic came over me, I was cut-off, a feeling of isolation engulfed me. As I quickly approached the door, the lights flickered and went out. Fear was paramount within me, sweat and panic were overcoming my senses, I could see nothing except the light from the other room still glowing below the door. I fumbled my way across the room, when suddenly the most obnoxious smell encompassed the room. I managed to reach the door and frantically pushed it open. As I entered the outer room of the registry the lights once again went out. I made my way stumbling up the spiral staircase and finally daylight.
Mrs Swanson was in her office typing, she noticed how distraught I looked and told me to sit down and explain what was wrong. I had nothing to lose and spilled out my story to her. She listened vacantly to my experience and told me to follow her down into the registry. We both descended the stair down into the registry. As we passed through the outer room the lights were on, and the door wide open going into the inner registry. No smell was present, and the binders were still on the table were I had left them. She suggested that I had a very vivid imagination and should make a better effort to fulfill my obligations. Jobs were few and far between in 1956, my 5 pounds a week contributed to the family situation, my father would never understand my dilemma, and as for giving up my job, would never accept my explanations. I decided to give my notice, the thought of having to go back into the registry haunted me. Richard Carter had returned from vacation and was suprised to hear that I was leaving. I reluctantly told him about my experience, and after listening in depth he agreed I had every reason.
Five years had passed and I had kept in touch with Richard. Being a reporter he decided to trace back the history of the building. He found out that the building was originally a butchers shop in 1946. The lower level rooms were freezer areas for hanging and storing meat. In 1951 the newspaper bought the property and renovated the premises for it's own purposes. The property had been sold due to the owner who inadvertently locked himself in the freezer room and froze to death overnight, the year was 1949. The door had not been fitted with a safety spring, hence once closed could not be opened from the inside. According to the report covering the inquest, his staff admitted that he had warned of this happening, but unfortunately had done nothing to remedy the problem.Maybe the events that I and Richard Carter had experienced, had been linked in someway to this.
According to Richard nobody else had experienced anything unusual while working at the newspaper.