There are several impressive ruins in the Hudson River Valley, but few have the same eerie allure as Rhinebeck’s Wyndclyffe Mansion. The best time to see them is in late October when autumn breezes send yellow leaves eddying through the hills and hollows of the old estate. Its beetle-browed exterior is blessed with that beguiling combination of gloom, ornamentation, and extreme old age that only the best haunted houses claim. This “haunted house” seems to be lacking just a fantastic ghost tale.
Wyndclyffe Mansion, Abandoned, New York, Will Ellis
This image, which was shot from a window on the west side of the building, shows how much of the inside is still too unstable to approach.
Wyndclyffe’s history is devoid of any involvement with murder, mayhem, or the paranormal, yet it is nonetheless interesting enough on its own. The mansion was built in 1853 as the personal residence of Elizabeth Schermerhorn Jones, a prominent representative of a very affluent New York family. Even while opulent Hudson Valley estates were already popular among New York City’s elite, Wyndclyffe’s splendour inspired the local nobility to invest even more money in their holiday properties to avoid being eclipsed by Elizabeth’s Rhinebeck mansion. The term “keeping up with the Joneses” is supposed to have its roots in this mansion and the building frenzy it prompted.
Wyndclyffe Mansion, Abandoned, New York, Will Ellis
The curving dining wing of the building shows three levels of the home.
Elizabeth was the aunt of the renowned American novelist Edith Wharton, who is renowned for her acute first-hand understanding of the lives of America’s most affluent individuals, which she brought to bear in classics like Ethan Frome, The House of Mirth, and The Age of Innocence, for which she earned the Pulitzer Prize. She’s well renowned for telling ghost tales, too. In her early years, Edith would spend the summers in the residence she called “Rhinecliff.” In her late-career autobiography “A Backward Glance” (1934), she described it in less than glowing terms:
“There is no question that the mansion at Rhinecliff’s sense of horror was caused by what I saw to be its awful ugliness… I can still remember detesting everything about Rhinecliff, which I later discovered to be an expensive but grim example of Hudson River Gothic. I was also vaguely aware of a peculiar similarity between Aunt Elizabeth’s granitic exterior and her grimly cosy home, as well as between her battlemented caps and the turrets of Rhinecliff, from the beginning.
Wyndclyffe Mansion, abandoned, New York City, by Will Ellis
In a portion of the structure that has fallen, some original architectural features may still be seen; pay attention to the wood trim in the parlour on the second level.
Her statements remind me of the following paragraph from Shirley Jackson’s imaginary house in “The Haunting of Hill House”:
No human eye can distinguish the unfortunate coincidence of line and place that suggests evil in the face of a house, but somehow a maniac juxtaposition, a badly turned angle, some accidental meeting of roof and sky, turned Hill House into a place of despair. This was made even more terrifying because the face of Hill House seemed awake, with a watchfulness from the blank windows and a touch of glee in the eyebrow of a cornice. A home may almost always surprise a visitor with a feeling of camaraderie, but one that is haughty and hateful and never caught off guard can only be wicked.
Here is a photo of the same room taken in the 1970s, when a leaking skylight had already done significant damage to the floor.
Whether Wyndclyffe is wicked or not, the contemporary eye is likely to be considerably more forgiving to the troubled man. The level of degradation it has endured after 50 years of neglect is easily obvious and may perhaps enhance its attractiveness. But how does a home as pricey, unique, and historically significant as Wyndclyffe get to be in such a condition?
Wyndclyffe was sold to a family when Elizabeth died in 1876, and they looked for it until the 1920s. However, the subsequent owners who lived in the home during the Great Depression found it difficult to pay for the pricey repairs it needed. The mansion had been vacant for years prior to the 1970s as the Hudson Valley’s appeal as a playground for the affluent waned. At this time, the land was bought and split, reducing the estate’s grounds from 80 acres to a pitiful two and a half. This decision more than any other didomed Wyndcliffe; in addition to the staggering costs associated in renovating a nearly collapsed 160 year old house, the structure’s lack of surrounding acreage has made it very difficult to sell to prospective purchasers. Wyndclyffe has fought just to keep standing, whereas several surrounding estates have been refurbished into prosperous historic attractions after a period of neglect.
A new owner removed the majority of the trees and vegetation from the property, built a fence, and declared intentions to rescue the house in 2003, providing some optimism. However, as is often the case, excellent intentions are dashed by the harsh reality of money. Eleven years have passed, and nothing has changed; now, dense saplings, tangled thorns, and bushes fully encircle the building once again, and the degradation marches on.
Many “No Trespassing” signs have been placed throughout the Will Ellis_Wyndclyffe Mansion_AbandonedNYC-5 site. Homeowners in the area often call state troopers to the scene when they see strange behaviour.
Given that Halloween is quickly approaching, I’ll leave you with another spooky excerpt from Jackson’s “Haunting,” which Stephen King—who should know—has deemed to be the finest beginning to any contemporary horror novel. It skillfully depicts the eerie allure of abandoned structures and the enduring, if nonsensical, notion that a home keeps thinking, feeling, and ruminating about its history long after man has left it behind.
No living thing can sustain a sane existence for an extended period of time in an environment of absolute reality; some people even believe that larks and katydids dream. The insane Hill House stood alone against its hills, containing darkness; it had done so for 80 years and may continue to do so for another 80. Silence lingered persistently against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whomever entered went alone. Inside, walls remained to stand tall, bricks neatly met, floors were hard, and doors were properly shut.
