In the basement corridors of New Zealand's Parliament Buildings, a veiled woman screamed as she burst from an elevator. The small group gathered around appeared somewhat tense, stepping back cautiously.
Their guide, dressed in a flowing white gown, offered a sweet smile. "Welcome to the elevator," she said. But no one dared to try it.
Mysterious deaths, unexplained noises, and late-night apparitions are not usually part of the daily tour of Wellington's Parliament Buildings. However, on Thursday evenings last week, guides donned Victorian attire to tell visitors about the area's less glamorous history—"mostly true" tales of tragedy and supernatural lore that have been passed down through decades of vivid retellings by political staffers.
The history of Parliament's stately Gothic library is particularly steeped in sorrow. Built in the late 19th century, it is feared by some of Parliament's night security guards and cleaners. The library has endured two fires, a flood, and even an infestation of feral cats. "This is your last chance to back out," said Lisa Brand, a trail of fake blood dripping down her face. She was speaking to the tourists who attended Thursday's tour—a recently launched event that has been enthusiastically welcomed by the visitor center staff.
The guide let out a bloodcurdling scream as she walked through Parliament's spacious atrium, the echo reaching the open windows of lawmakers' offices. This also explains why the so-called "ghost tours" are only scheduled during parliamentary recess. The parliamentary library is a shadowy, ornate building, with stained-glass windows and crystal chandeliers dimly illuminating wrought-iron railings and Venetian-style decorations. Designed by Thomas Turnbull, it was completed in 1899 and is still used by staff today, who come here to seek information or a moment of eerie tranquility.
As visitors arrived on Thursday, they were greeted by ghostly figures who shrieked as they slid down the stairs beneath portraits of former librarians and New Zealand Prime Ministers. Guides whispered to their audience that a violent storm that struck Wellington in 1968 endangered the library—a passenger ferry sank in the harbor, killing 53 people. A Victorian-clad guide with dark circles under her eyes said that the storm also hit Parliament Buildings, blowing off the skylights and prompting librarians to climb onto the roof to try to protect the books. "For mysterious and unknown reasons, they did this in their underwear," she told the tourists. "It seems there is a long history of people taking their pants off in this Parliament." The guide added with interest, "And I haven't even started on the politicians yet."
Eventually, the tour did turn to politicians. Well-known in New Zealand is the story of William Larnach, a politician who was found dead in a room in Parliament in 1898 with a revolver in his hand, as he was experiencing financial and family difficulties. It is claimed that Larnach's ghost still lingers in the building. However, his skull was stolen—and rediscovered in a university student's bedroom in 1972. Another soul said to haunt the halls is Euan Maccoll, the first full-time librarian, whose death some official sources attribute in part to overwork.
As the tour descended into the building's basement, the ceilings became low and the corridors narrow. A frantic banging sound emanated from a room that was apparently locked. The guide said that the basement floors are home to an archive containing historical and esoteric materials. This is also where some of the building's strangest events have occurred. Urban legends circulated by staff include hands reaching out from bookshelves, singing coming from empty bathrooms, ghostly women appearing in mirrors, and locked doors opening on their own. More realistic horrors have included a cat, and the flea infestation that followed in 1977.
After the final scare, the tourists emerged, slightly spooked, into Parliament's nearly empty hall as night fell. Holly Masters said the tour was "a little bit scarier than I thought," as she last visited Parliament as a child. "There were a lot of deaths that happened here that I wasn't expecting." Another visitor, Sally Giles, said she was fascinated to learn about the stories of those who worked and died in the area, "and what they left behind, and how those things bubble up every now and then."
The guides will revert to their regular, sanctioned script during Friday's tours—but some say the building's spooky side is never far away. "I always open up the tour route in the mornings," said team leader Brand. "It always feels a little tingly when you're the first people walking around."