Fancy a swift pint and a poltergeist? What about a Babycham and black magic?

Walking out of Grimsby Town train station, you might well be in need of a stiff drink. Luckily for you, the Yarborough Hotel is pretty hard to miss. Built in 1851 by Charles Anderson-Pelham, 2nd Earl of Yarborough, it was intended to capitalise on the new railway lines, bringing work, businesses and tourists to the area. Being the chairman of the Manchester, Sheffield and Lincolnshire Railway, this was no speculative build, but a shrewd business decision. The arrival of railways in North East Lincs saw Grimsby quickly transform from a small fishing town to a substantial and powerful port, with cash to match. Being a grand and opulent building, the hotel soon became a bustling hub for local politicians and businessmen to conduct their work, with significant social meetings staged within the hotel’s grandeur.

In 1862, after just over a decade of trade, riots gripped the grand hotel as a violent mob tore through the entrance. By this point, the 2nd Earl had died and his son, Lord Worsley, had became the new Earl of Yarborough. Shortly after his death a bye-election was called, as Mr John Chapman sought to challenge Edward Heneage, Grimsby’s long-standing MP. Free food and beer was often used as a voting incentive, and the 1962 election was no different. Chapman’s supporters had been making the most of the free spread, and were suitably sozzled when the rumours began.

The hotel’s coffee room after the riots in 1862. Image via LincsInspire.

Regarded as a ‘St Valentine’s Day Riot’, the Yarborough Hotel was about to play host to one of the county’s most infamous displays of public carnage, later to be known as the ‘Yarborough Riot’. With the crowds holding banners and grasping at rocks, attending police forces were met with a hail of stones and rage, as crowds of Chapman’s supporters stormed the hotel. Many were under the impression that two voters that were sympathetic to Heneage had been brought in from Liverpool to supply fake votes, and were staying at the hotel as his guests (a common variation on this tale is that two Grimsby voters had been kidnapped and were being held within the building, denying them their votes). In response, the crowd tore up the hotel’s bannisters, using the wood as rudimentary weaponry, smashing windows as they went. While the rumours of hidden voters had no basis in reality, many people were injured during the riots and several hotel rooms were quickly repurposed as makeshift hospitals to treat the wounded. Extra police units were brought in by rail to deal with the ever-growing mob, and by the time the riot was over, the hotel was in tatters. John Chapman ultimately won the election and was elected as Grimsby MP. It wasn’t until 1867 that the secret ballot was introduced for the electorate.

As the fishing trade waned and Grimsby’s role as a prominent port faded, the Yarborough Hotel proved to be just too big to maintain. For many years, the upper floors were derelict, with many parts of the hotel deemed as too dangerous – or wobbly – to use. In the 1960s, plans were submitted to demolish the hotel and build shops in its place, but thankfully, these plans were never put into action and the building survived long enough to receive listed status. The hotel that once served ‘dinner by candlelight’ every Saturday, was regarded in less pleasant terms for many years thereafter. Today, after substantial renovations, it is operated by J. D. Wetherspoons, serving locals and the occasional thirsty train passenger alike.

The hotel circa 1892 via The Grimsby and Cleethorpes History Club

PARANORMAL REPORTS

The hotel has been dogged with paranormal reports for decades. Most commonly, staff report a feeling of unease, which is understandable when you’re rattling around an enormous Victorian hotel-cum-Wetherspoons. Following an investigation in 2009, PP Paranormal reported seeing the figure of a man wearing glasses and a white shirt, a little like an old-timey waiter, but couldn’t account for his origin[1]. Other visitors have claimed to have seen a typical 19th century ghost; a gloomy woman dressed in non-specific ‘Victorian dress’, whose origin or intent is unclear.

Image via JD Wetherspoon Hotels

Curiously, the hotel has also had a long association with phantom black dogs. While the Lincolnshire coast has its fair share of Black Shuck-adjacent folk tales, where phantom evil dogs act as both harbingers of doom and great luck, the hotel has a different type of undead hound. In 1986, an article appeared in the Grimsby Telegraph stated that the hotel owner was plagued by a ‘phantom hound’ that haunted their nights. The dog was said to patrol the corridors, ‘emitting groans and moans’, frightening residents. Described as having ‘eyes as big as saucers, steaming nostrils, [and] ears pricked’, it was said to leave enormous footprints in the thick-pile carpet. The dog had only ever been heard and glimpsed, never photographed, but they were sure that despite its frightening appearance, it’d never bite anyone. The hunt for the phantom dog began after owner Martyn Dickinson claimed to hear howls and whimpers in the building, believing a living animal to be trapped, lost or injured within the enormous building. Yet try as they might, staff, the fire service and the RSPCA could find no trace of such a creature, but still the groans returned.

Headline in The Grimsby Telegraph, 21st June 1986

Rather than a mysterious, nameless Black Shuck, it was postulated that the dog was in fact the ghost of Petra, the canine companion of former caretaker, Mr. Tom Dye. The Yarborough was Petra’s second home, where she guarded the halls of sleeping residents, and to where she may have returned. However, for all of Petra’s love of the building, she wasn’t immune to its spectral residents, and was said to have often ‘froze with her hair standing on end’ and refused to leave the caretaker’s office when strange noises were afoot.

Image via Grimsby and Cleethorpes History Club

Predating the spectral howls were tales of a ghost called Charlie, who roamed the first floor, ransacking guests’ rooms. However, in the years thereafter, Charlie has either gone towards the light or faded entirely, as reports are few and far between.

In the late 1970s, in the midst of the satanic panic era, a rumour began to circulate that black magic was being practised on the upper floors, but who’s to say it wasn’t a case of a few angry pigeons or unusually-dressed hotel guests.

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[1] http://web-wp.archive.org/web/20090806183516/http://www.thisisgrimsby.co.uk:80/news/Spooky-goings-Yarborough/article-1217837-detail/article.html

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