This series of Spooky Truths are accounts of experiences in my life that really happened.
The year, 1972 and the place is Leicester. A nightclub on Church Street, motorcycles scattered through walls, a unique decor …. welcome to the ‘Freewheeler’, formerly the Hippo Club. It was a very old building dating back to the early 19th Century, maybe even older. I was the resident DJ and Compere, a young twenty year old hippy enjoying everything life presented me with in ‘spades’. I knew the city well as I first came in 69/70 to a residency at the Top Rank Suite on Haymarket before returning to the Genevieve in Sheffield. Happenstance returned me to Leicester, where unbeknown to me one of the spookiest experiences that would stay with me for the rest of my my life lay in wait.
The Freewheeler was a popular venue and frequented by trendy club goers, a great little club remembered by many I am sure. So lets take a dive into the physical layout of the club. It was spread over four floors, the first being the entrance, a lounge and bar area, the main room with dance floor, stage and bar. On the second floor a large lounge which would later be christened as the ‘Coachman’s Lounge’, plus cloakroom and toilets. Offices and storerooms occupied the remaining two floors. The owner used to arrive in his Rolls Royce Corniche, a wealthy working class bloke who made his fortune from laying turf for all and sundry. He owned this club and its sister, Freewheeler in Kettering. I spent time in both clubs but it is this one in Leicester where our story is born. One day the owner, manager and security chap were photographed together in the office on the top floor. It is interesting to note that this room was always so cold irrespective of the time of day, when entering it was like walking in to a freezer. When the photograph was developed to everybody’s amazement, there on the managers shoulder as clear as day sat, a transparrent hand. It was not a set up, there was no trick photography, this was as real as it gets.
This was the first experience shared by a few of us at the same time which led to conversations about strange noises, children laughing, a ball bouncing and unknown people appearing, then been nowhere to be found. I remember distinctly sitting in the club during the day and hearing children running in the upstairs lounge above the dance floor, and thumping as if a ball was bouncing. Yes it felt a little spooky and often I would experience the hair rising at the back of my neck and up my arms, but nothing at that time felt particularly malevolant, in fact, quite comfortable but obviously strange. One weird happening often filled me with curiosity and to this day over fifty years later still does.
As a prenentious young entertainer my tipple in those days was Canadian Rye Whisky and Dry, in a short tumbler. The first time anything happened, there was the glass full of my tipple sitting on a shelf next to the music consul. I had only just put the glass down to set a disc on the player, so a matter of two minutes, three at the most. Turning around to take a sip and the glass was empty, yes empty, as if the contents had simply evaporated into thin air. Holy crap, methinks, here we go again. On four or five occassions I purposefully left a full glass on the shelf and sat at the far end of the room watching intently to see what would happen. Everytime, excepting one occasion, I saw no movements, no spooky vibes but the glass was drained every time. It became a bit of a standing joke between some of us that the club hosted a ghost who liked a drink.
Following the revealing photograph the owner had been advised not to make anything of the matter, after he recruited a psychic from Northampton to investigate. I wish I could remember his name, I know it was Jack something. Our psychic investigator was an experienced man in his fifties and was under no illusion about the resident spirits. He told us there was the spirit of a Coachman who haunted the lounge on the first floor and this is why it was named so. Confirming the presence of spirit children and a middle aged woman he left reminding the owner to keep eveything under wraps. I suppose it was like telling a child not to open a present, he could not wait and within a few days the story made headlines in the Leicester Mercury. Needless to say, we became busier than ever. I mentioned earlier no malevolance happened, well not whilst I was there but odd spooky moments did. Occurences certainly increased after the publicity.
One evening at around 1.30am the door bell rang and the security manager admitted a tall man in a grey suit with shoulder length blond hair. He walked straight up the stairs towards the cloakroom, and was seen to close the gents toilet door behind him. The stranger in the grey suit never came back down the stairs so the security man, Kieth went to search for the mysterious guest. Not a sign anywhere remained and he had not left the club by the entrance and all other doors were locked. The Freewheeler was a great club and seemingly not only popular with the living.
The paranormal data base for the area published the following.
Location:Â Leicester – Freewheeler Club, Churchgate
Type:Â Haunting Manifestation
Date / Time:Â 1972
Further Comments:Â An exorcist was summoned to this building after staff reported seeing a strange ghost which would change shape.
Lazarus Carpenter - Author 