The Ghosts of Green's Mansion

The land where Green's Mansion now stands was originally part of a much larger tract owned by one of Alexandria's founding families in the mid-1700s. The location was chosen for its proximity to the Potomac River - critical for commerce in colonial Virginia - while still being situated high enough to avoid the flooding that plagued lower elevations.

Historical records indicate that a much smaller structure stood on this spot before the current mansion was built. Tax records from the 1780s reference a 'dwelling house' on the property, though no detailed descriptions survive. What happened to this earlier structure, and to those who lived in it, remains unknown. By the time Green's Mansion was constructed in the 1820s, no trace of the previous building remained.

Green's Mansion was built in 1823 by Jonathan Green, a prosperous Alexandria merchant whose business interests ranged from tobacco export to real estate speculation. Green came from a wealthy Maryland family and arrived in Alexandria with substantial capital, immediately establishing himself among the city's elite.

But why build such a grand mansion? Historical accounts suggest that Jonathan Green had social ambitions that exceeded even his considerable wealth. He sought to position himself among Alexandria's most prominent citizens, and the mansion was his statement piece - a Federal-style estate that rivaled any in Old Town.

Green spared no expense in the construction. The mansion featured the finest materials available: marble imported from Italy for the fireplaces, mahogany woodwork throughout, crystal chandeliers from France. The formal gardens were designed by a landscape architect brought from Philadelphia specifically for the project. Every detail was calculated to impress, to announce that Jonathan Green had arrived.

Yet for all its grandeur, Jonathan Green would enjoy his mansion for less than a decade. He died in 1832 under circumstances that contemporary accounts describe only as 'sudden and unexpected.' The property passed to his widow, Elizabeth, who lived there until her own death in 1841. After that, the mansion changed hands repeatedly - a pattern of short-term ownership that continues to this day and that many believe is linked to its supernatural inhabitants.

One of the most remarkable aspects of Green's Mansion's history is how few of its owners have remained for any length of time. Since Elizabeth Green's death in 1841, the property has been sold more than thirty times - an extraordinarily high rate of turnover for a residence of this caliber and location.

While property records document the transfers of ownership, they rarely reveal why the estates were sold. The few explanations that do survive are notably vague: 'seeking residence elsewhere,' 'family reasons,' 'no longer suitable for our purposes.' Only occasionally does one find a more revealing admission. An 1889 letter from one owner to a relative, discovered in Alexandria's archival collections, states bluntly: 'We cannot remain in a house where we are never alone.'

This pattern of rapid ownership turnover has made tracing the mansion's complete history remarkably difficult. With so many occupants over nearly two centuries, and with so little documentation about their experiences, the stories that might explain the haunting have been scattered and lost. All that remains are the ghosts themselves - and the consistent testimony of those who have encountered them.

'I saw him three times,' a former caretaker told us. 'Always in the same type of clothing - dark suit, like something from the 1800s. He appeared in different parts of the house, but always had the same expression: concerned, like he was looking for something he couldn't find. The third time I saw him, I actually spoke to him. Asked if he needed help. He looked right at me, opened his mouth like he was going to answer... and simply faded away.'

This male spirit is the most commonly reported of the four ghosts. Described as appearing to be in his forties or fifties, well-dressed in period clothing from the 19th century, he manifests most often in the main hallways and formal rooms of the mansion. Witnesses describe him as solid and seemingly real until he vanishes, often mid-stride.

What's particularly intriguing is that while he's frequently seen, he never seems threatening. Instead, witnesses use words like 'worried,' 'searching,' and 'distressed' to describe his demeanor. A housekeeper who worked at the mansion in the 1990s reported: 'He seemed lost, like he didn't know where he was or how he got there. It was sad, actually. I felt sorry for him.'

Who is he? Theories abound, but nothing conclusive has emerged. He doesn't clearly match descriptions of Jonathan Green or any other documented owner of the property. His formal attire suggests someone of means, but beyond that, his identity remains a complete mystery.

The second spirit is described by all who have seen her the same way: a woman in a white dress, appearing to be in her thirties, with dark hair worn in a style suggesting the mid-1800s.

'She was standing by the window in what we called the blue bedroom,' a former event coordinator recalled. 'I thought at first she was a guest who had wandered upstairs. I was about to tell her the upper floors were off-limits when I realized I could see through her - just slightly, like looking through frosted glass. She was looking out the window, and she was crying. I could see tears on her face. Then she turned toward me, and the look on her face... it was pure grief. She reached out her hand toward me, and I just ran. I'm not proud of it, but I ran.'

This female spirit appears most frequently in the upper floors of the mansion, particularly near windows. Unlike the male spirit, who seems confused, witnesses describe her as deeply sorrowful. Several people have reported hearing crying when no one else is in the house - soft, feminine weeping that seems to come from empty rooms.

A maintenance worker who saw her multiple times noted: 'She never seemed to notice me. She was always staring out windows or standing in corners, just... existing. Like she was trapped in her own private grief, completely unaware of the present.'

Attempts to identify this spirit have proven fruitless. No death of a young woman in the 1800s at the mansion has been documented, and none of the known female residents match the age and description provided by witnesses.

Perhaps the most unsettling aspect of Green's Mansion's haunting is the presence of two young girls. Witnesses describe them as appearing to be between eight and twelve years old, dressed in what looks like clothing from the 1800s, often seen together.

'I heard children laughing,' a former housekeeper told us. 'It was coming from the third floor, where we stored furniture and old belongings. I went up to investigate, thinking maybe someone's kids had snuck in. When I got up there, I saw them - two little girls in old-fashioned dresses, playing some kind of game with a ball. They looked so real, so normal. I actually called out to them, asked them how they got in. They both looked at me, stopped playing, and just... weren't there anymore. Gone in an instant. I searched the entire third floor. No one was there. There's only one stairway up, and they couldn't have passed me.'

The two girls are frequently reported together, rarely alone. They appear to be playful when first encountered - running, laughing, playing games - but witnesses note that when the girls realize they've been seen, their behavior changes dramatically. Some describe the girls looking frightened before vanishing. Others report that the girls seem confused, as if surprised that someone can see them.

'The saddest thing,' an electrician who worked in the mansion related, 'was when I saw them looking out a window. They had their faces pressed against the glass like they were watching something outside. When I looked to see what they were watching, there was nothing there. Old trees, the garden, nothing unusual. But they were transfixed by something. When I looked back at them, they turned and looked at me with the most desperate expressions - like they needed help but couldn't ask for it. Then they faded away.'

Who these children are, how they died, or why they haunt Green's Mansion is completely unknown. No historical records document the deaths of children at the property. The mystery of their identities is perhaps the most troubling aspect of the entire haunting.

The most commonly reported phenomena are auditory: footsteps when no one else is present, voices in conversation though no words can be made out, and the sounds of daily life from an empty house.

'I would arrive in the morning to open up, and I could hear people moving around upstairs,' one caretaker explained. 'Footsteps, doors opening and closing, sometimes what sounded like furniture being moved. Every single time I went to investigate, the sounds would stop, and I'd find the upper floors completely empty and undisturbed.'

The children's laughter is frequently reported, particularly on the third floor. Multiple witnesses have described hearing the sound of running feet, as if children are racing through the hallways. The sounds are so realistic that employees have searched for intruders, only to find no one present.

More unsettling are the voices. A former night security guard reported: 'Around 2 or 3 AM, I'd hear what sounded like a dinner party - multiple people talking, laughing, the clink of glasses. It would drift down from the second floor. But when I'd go up to check, it would go silent. The rooms would be empty, but they'd be freezing cold. I mean unnaturally cold, even in summer.'

Objects moving on their own is a hallmark of paranormal activity, and Green's Mansion provides numerous examples - particularly involving doors and windows.

'I learned pretty quickly not to bother locking certain doors,' a former property manager told us. 'You'd lock them, come back ten minutes later, and they'd be standing wide open. I must have checked and replaced the locks on the library door five times. Nothing was wrong with them mechanically. They just wouldn't stay locked - or closed. Eventually I gave up and just left that door unlocked.'

Windows pose a similar problem. Multiple employees describe finding windows open that they know were closed and locked. More strangely, several report windows that were open suddenly slamming shut on their own - hard enough to shatter the glass in a few instances.

'One afternoon I was on a ladder cleaning the chandelier in the front hall,' a housekeeper recounted. 'Every window in that hall was closed - I'd closed them myself that morning because it was cold. Suddenly, every single window flew open at once. All of them, simultaneously. The curtains went wild. Then, about thirty seconds later, they all slammed shut again, one after another, like dominoes. I climbed down from that ladder and went home for the day.'

Temperature fluctuations are among the most documented paranormal phenomena at Green's Mansion. Certain areas of the house regularly drop in temperature without explanation, sometimes dramatically.

'The blue bedroom was always cold,' an event coordinator explained. 'Even in summer, even with the heat running. It would be 70 degrees in the hallway and maybe 50 in that room. We actually stopped using it for events because guests would complain about the cold. What was weird is that it was cold in patches. You could be standing there fine, then take a step forward and walk into air so cold you could see your breath.'

More personal are the reports of being touched. Several former employees describe feeling a hand on their shoulder, the brush of someone passing in a hallway when no one is there, or the sensation of someone tugging at their clothing.

'I felt someone take my hand,' a caretaker reported. 'I was standing in the second-floor hallway, and I felt a small hand slip into mine. Like a child holding an adult's hand. I looked down and there was nothing there, but I could feel it - warm, real, squeezing my fingers. I said, 'It's okay, I won't hurt you,' because it felt like a child, and the touch seemed... scared. The hand held mine for a few more seconds, then let go. I felt it release my fingers. I've never forgotten that feeling.'

Items being moved from where they were placed is a daily occurrence at Green's Mansion, according to those who have worked there.

'You'd set something down, turn around to grab something else, turn back, and it would be gone,' a maintenance worker explained. 'Keys, tools, supplies - they'd vanish and turn up in completely different rooms. I once left my tool belt in the basement and found it on the third floor, neatly laid out on a table. There was no one else in the house.'

More elaborate are the rearrangements. Furniture moved overnight, pictures rehung in different locations, items from one room found carefully arranged in another.

'The most elaborate thing I saw,' a former housekeeper stated, 'was when someone - or something - set the dining room table. I mean fully set it: plates, silverware, glasses, napkins, the works. Set for eight people. I know for a fact that dining room had been empty when I left the night before. No one else had access to the house. But there it was, a formal table setting like someone was about to host a dinner party. But here's the creepy part: the plates and silverware were antiques from storage in the attic. Someone - or something - had gone through boxes in the attic, found formal dinnerware from a hundred years ago, brought it all downstairs, and set a table for guests who would never come.'

Perhaps the most universal experience reported by former employees is the persistent sensation of being observed.

'You never felt alone in that house,' a security guard explained. 'Even in rooms where I could see no one else was present, I always felt like someone was watching me. Sometimes it was benign, almost curious. Other times it felt... invasive. Like they resented my presence.'

Multiple employees describe the sensation of eyes following them as they move through rooms, the feeling of someone standing just behind them, or the certainty that if they turned around quickly enough, they'd catch someone watching.

'The worst was the third floor,' a former caretaker noted. 'I hated going up there. Not because anything dramatic happened - it was just that overwhelming sense of being observed by something that didn't want you there. I'd get this crawling feeling on the back of my neck, and I'd know someone was watching. I'd turn around, and there'd be no one. But the feeling never went away.'