Inside the Phelps Mansion: History, Haunted Stories, and What We Found Before the Investigation
“When you understand the people who lived in a place, you start to understand why certain stories persist — and that's where the real investigation begins.”
— Jason Hawes
Before we ever set up a single piece of equipment, I always want to know everything I can about a location — the people, the history, the stories that have been passed down through generations. The Phelps Mansion in Binghamton, New York gave us a lot to work with. Built in the 1870s for Sherman D. Phelps, this place is one of the finest surviving examples of Victorian craftsmanship in the region, and it carries more than 150 years of stories within its walls.
I've walked into a lot of historic buildings over the years, but the Phelps Mansion stopped me in my tracks the moment we stepped through the front door. The scale of it, the detail in the woodwork, the weight of those massive doors — this wasn't just a house, it was a statement. Sherman D. Phelps built this mansion at a time when Binghamton was a thriving industrial city, and he spared no expense. Every room tells you something about who he was, what he valued, and the world he moved in. That kind of context matters enormously to me before an investigation, because when you understand the people who lived in a place, you start to understand why certain stories persist.
We went room by room through the mansion with the team at the Phelps Mansion Museum, and I have to say, the history here is as compelling as any reported paranormal activity. The Phelps family lived through some significant chapters of American history within these walls, and the mansion itself has passed through several hands and purposes over the decades. That kind of layered history — multiple families, shifting uses, different eras of occupation — is exactly the kind of background that tends to generate reported activity. People experience something they can't immediately explain, and the stories start. Then those stories get repeated, added to, and eventually become part of the identity of the place. My job is to separate what's actually happening from what's been inherited through storytelling.
What I find most valuable about doing a thorough walkthrough and history session before an investigation is that it arms me with natural explanations to test against. An old mansion like this one — with its original plumbing, its aging woodwork that expands and contracts with temperature changes, its long hallways and high ceilings that play tricks with sound — is going to produce unexplained noises and odd sensations on its own. That's not the paranormal, that's physics and architecture. When we come back for the investigation, I'll know which creaks belong to the building settling and which sounds don't fit. I'll know the layout well enough to rule out cross-contamination between investigators. That groundwork is everything.
The stories that have survived here for over 150 years are genuinely intriguing, and I'm not dismissing them. Witnesses who report experiences in places like the Phelps Mansion are usually sincere people describing something real that happened to them. My skepticism isn't aimed at them — it's aimed at the interpretation. Something happened. What was it, really? That's the question I bring into every investigation, and it's the question I'll be bringing into the Phelps Mansion when we return with the full team and a complete equipment setup. The history gave us a solid foundation. Now we find out what's actually going on in these rooms.
The Phelps Mansion is a remarkable place with a rich history and more than enough reported activity to warrant a serious investigation. I go in with an open mind and a skeptic's eye — that combination has always served me well. Stay tuned, because the investigation of the Phelps Mansion is coming, and I have a feeling this one is going to be very interesting.