Les Dawson had a longstanding interest in philosophy, metaphysics and the paranormal – and some who knew Les said he was psychic. In 1972, Dawson was living in a large bungalow in Bury when he saw his 4-year-old daughter talking to the hallway wall. The child said she was addressing the Grey Lady, a distinguished kind-faced woman who walked with a limp. Dawson also saw this figure on several occasions, and his wife went to see a psychic who told her there was a presence in the Dawson home – “a lame lady” in 18th century clothes. Then, in December 1980 Dawson came to Liverpool, a town he was very fond of, and he appeared at the Empire in the Babes in the Wood pantomime. While sitting in his dressing room alone he saw a tiny child’s index finger trace the numerals “13” on a mirror. Then came the sound of a little girl singing Ring a Ring o’Roses as she skipped past him. Dawson was naturally unnerved by the ghostly girl (who has haunted the Empire for around a century) and he had a bad feeling about the number 13; he wondered if it meant ‘13 years of life left’ – and it’s probably a coincidence, but Les Dawson died after a medical check-up at a hospital 13 years later – in 1993. That phantom girl still haunts the Liverpool Empire today – of that I am 100 per cent sure.
Years after this, Dawson had another supernatural encounter, again in the dressing room of a major theatre during the festive period; this time it was the Sunderland Empire in 1989. Les was appearing in Jack and the Beanstalk with the Liverpudlian comedian Ted Robbins, and Dawson had expressed misgivings about this booking, not only because it wasn’t the easiest venue to play for a non-Geordie, but because of a few ‘premonitions’. Dawson had had eerie feelings about appearing at the Sunderland Empire for a few weeks, but being professional, he accepted the booking. During the run of Jack and the Beanstalk, Dawson was sitting before the dressing room mirror, when he heard a rather familiar staccato laugh to his left. He saw the ghost reflected in the mirror, and felt a stabbing pain in his chest. It was Sid James – who had died (aged 62) from a heart attack whilst performing in a farce at the theatre in 1976 – and he looked “ghastly”. He wore some type of white shroud, and there was an aroma of whisky hanging in the air. The apparition’s face was pale and clammy looking, and the eyes were almost black and lifeless. The ghost shouted something (which I will never put into print) then vanished. Dawson almost died from shock and vowed he’d never work again at the Sunderland Empire – and he never did.
Copyright Tom Slemen 2014. All rights reserved.