In the 1930s, cinema offered a welcome escape from daily hardship, becoming one of the most popular and accessible forms of entertainment. Across Ireland, a new wave of cinemas sprang up—modern, glamorous, and unmistakably Art Deco. One such venue was the Savoy in Kilkenny, which opened its doors in 1936.

With its bold lines, stepped roof, and stylised signage, the Savoy embodied the sleek confidence of the era. It stood out not only for its design—unusual outside Ireland’s main cities—but for the role it played in Kilkenny life for nearly fifty years.

However, like many single-screen cinemas, the Savoy struggled in the decades that followed. The rise of television, and later, the popularity of multiplexes, steadily drew audiences away. In March 1985, the Savoy closed its doors for the final time—after showing Ghostbusters, fittingly enough.

But unlike many historic cinemas that were demolished or left to decay, the Savoy was saved. A group of local theatre enthusiasts acquired the building and, with support from the Mayor’s Fund, transformed it into a live performance venue. Following major renovations—including the construction of a new stage and fly tower—it reopened on 4 April 1993 as the Watergate Theatre.

Today, the Watergate is celebrated for its vibrant programme of drama, music, dance, and comedy. Yet, behind the curtain, it holds another reputation: as a quietly haunted place.

Over the years, multiple staff members have reported strange and unexplained occurrences within the building. The most compelling account comes from former caretaker Gabby Maher, who shared his experiences in a 2014 interview with the Kilkenny People.

Gabby described feeling a persistent presence in the theatre, particularly during late-night lockups. One spot stood out: the gantry above the stage. He often sensed someone watching from above, and occasionally glimpsed a figure out of the corner of his eye. But whenever he turned to look—there was nothing.

“I’d be locking up, and I’d catch a glimpse of someone on the gantry—but when I looked directly, nothing,” Gabby said. “Still, I knew someone—or something—was there.

Though he never felt threatened, the disturbances grew harder to ignore. Unexplained footsteps echoed from the upper levels. Voices whispered through empty corridors. Eventually, he began keeping a radio playing—more for company than for music.

The theatre’s reputation reached beyond staff. Mentalist and illusionist Keith Barry reported sensing two distinct spirits near the stage during a performance. After the show, he casually mentioned the experience to staff—as if such encounters were to be expected in a place like this.

The identities of the spirits remain a mystery. There are no publicly known deaths or tragedies linked to the building. Some believe the energies could be connected to the old projection rooms and backstage areas from its cinema days. Others suggest the haunting may go deeper—perhaps rooted in the medieval foundations beneath Kilkenny itself. The city is built atop layers of earlier streets, buildings, and, in some cases, ancient burial grounds.

While the Watergate Theatre continues to thrive, these stories have become part of its backstage lore. Staff have spoken of sudden cold spots, odd movements in the wings, and the unmistakable feeling of being watched—even in an empty auditorium.

As Gabby once remarked:

“He doesn’t seem to want to leave. But he’s not here to hurt anyone—just to stay part of the place.”