Sterling Opera House

Built in 1889, the Sterling Opera House was the first building added to the National Register of Historic Places in November 1968. In its heyday, it welcomed Harry Houdini and Red Skelton until closing in 1945. The building has sat empty and decaying since.

The Sterling Opera House rises from downtown Derby like a Baroque cathedral to entertainment, its ornate terra cotta facade and stained glass cupola belying the darkness that now fills its abandoned halls. Designed by H. Edwards Ficken—co-architect of Carnegie Hall—the building opened on April 2, 1889, as both a palace of entertainment and the civic heart of Derby, housing city hall, the police station, and jail cells in its lower levels. But the man whose fortune built it never lived to see the curtain rise. Charles Sterling, the piano manufacturer whose instruments graced parlors across America, died in 1887, two years before his namesake opera house welcomed its first audience. Some say he never truly left.

During its golden era, the Sterling's acoustics rivaled the Metropolitan Opera—a whisper from the stage could reach the back row with crystal clarity. Harry Houdini performed his death-defying escapes here, reportedly having a special trap door built into the stage. Enrico Caruso filled the auditorium with his legendary tenor. John Philip Sousa's band thundered through patriotic marches. The Barrymore family—Lionel, John, and Ethel—trod these boards, as did George Burns, Bob Hope, Red Skelton, and Lon Chaney. Boxing champion John L. Sullivan played Simon Legree in Uncle Tom's Cabin. In 1936, Amelia Earhart addressed a women's club from this stage, sharing tales of her aerial adventures just one year before her final, fatal flight.

But beneath this glamour lurked a grimmer reality. Below the stage, in the basement jail cells, prisoners listened to the orchestra playing above their heads. Among those briefly held here was Lydia Sherman, the "Poison Fiend"—one of America's most notorious female serial killers who murdered ten victims with arsenic, including three husbands and seven of her own children. Members of La Mano Nera, the violent Black Hand organization, also languished in these cells. The iron bars still slam shut with an echo that reverberates through the empty theater.

The final curtain fell on November 30-December 1, 1945, when "Ye Olde Time Minstrel" was performed to honor returning World War II soldiers. The fire marshal locked the doors, and the Sterling fell into an enchanted sleep. City hall and the police station continued operating until 1965, then even they departed, leaving the building to the ghosts.

The most persistent spirit is Andy, a child whose origins remain mysterious—no documented death explains his presence. Yet investigators encounter him constantly. Toys and balls are left throughout the theater for him to play with; they frequently move on their own or disappear entirely. Andy responds to EVPs with singing and conversation. Ghost Hunters captured his voice in the balcony in their April 2011 investigation, a child's words cutting through decades of silence while K2 meters lit up around them.

The Green Lady haunts the theater in her flowing emerald gown. Through spirit box communications, she revealed her name is Hattie (some investigators record it as Heddy), and that she hailed from Brooklyn but worked here managing female performers. Though she didn't die in the building, she returned to it, watching over visitors and reportedly following investigators down to the jail cells with whispered warnings to "be careful."

The Lady in White appears on the second tier balcony, always seated to the right of the second column. No one knows who she was in life. A woman in a sparkling evening gown has been spotted, as has a figure in teal, and numerous shadow people drift through the balcony seats. Visitors often photograph the "haunted chair" beside a pole in the middle level—a seat where supernatural activity concentrates.

Charles Sterling himself materializes on the balcony, dressed in period garb, a gentleman in a brown suit observing the theater he never saw completed. Beside him appears a woman in a long flowing dress, believed to be his widow—the "common denominator," according to Rich DiCarlo, Chairman of the Derby Cultural Commission, still watching over her husband's legacy.

The TAPS team found something unsettling during their 2011 investigation: despite the building having no electricity, EMF readings spiked throughout the structure. They captured EVPs of moaning from the dressing rooms and a long, agonized groan. Jason and Grant heard whispers in the balcony, possibly female voices. Team member Tango performed magic tricks to provoke a response—and received mysterious thumps in reply. Their conclusion: there IS paranormal activity at the Sterling.

A glowing white light has been seen descending the central staircase as if walking, then ascending again. Hand prints of children appear in the dust. Orbs and figures in Victorian-era clothing manifest in photographs. The acoustics that once carried Caruso's voice now carry sounds from another realm—the laughter of children, the rustle of gowns, the footsteps of performers who took their final bows over a century ago.

In 1968, the Sterling became the first building in Connecticut added to the National Register of Historic Places. Save Our Sterling and the Sterling Opera House Commission continue fighting for restoration, securing grants and planning for the day when living performers might again take the stage. But whether the ghosts will share their theater with the living remains to be seen. Charles Sterling waited over a century to watch his opera house in action. Perhaps he's content to wait a little longer.