Why People Believe California’s Winchester Mystery House Is Haunted

Few places in America embody the blurred lines between history, architecture and legend as vividly as the Winchester Mystery House in San Jose, California. With staircases that lead to nowhere, hidden passageways and doors that open into solid walls, the Victorian-era mansion has earned its place as one of the nation’s most iconic haunted sites. Its eerie reputation is rooted in a past shaped by grief, superstition and a century’s worth of storytelling, carrying forward a legacy that still defines the house today.

"Since 1923, guests from around the world have paid us a visit to try and answer the many ‘whys’ associated with Sarah Winchester and her mysterious home,” says Walter Magnuson, executive director of Winchester Mystery House. “Most leave inspired, and some depart with more questions than answers."

Following the Civil War, the Winchester rifle became a fixture among settlers migrating to the American West. Branded as “The Gun That Won the West,” it became a symbol of Manifest Destiny and an instrument of conquest. The fortune behind the rifle's success ultimately passed to Sarah Lockwood Pardee Winchester, wife of William Wirt Winchester and heir to the Winchester Repeating Arms Company.

When her infant daughter Abbie died in 1866, followed by her husband’s death from tuberculosis in 1881, Sarah Winchester was left with immense wealth but few remaining ties to family.

“Far from the spectral figure enveloped in superstition, Sarah Winchester emerges from historical records as a complex, resilient and intelligent woman,” said Karen Stollznow, a linguist and author of Haunting America. “She was an independently wealthy woman with an interest in architecture and a desire for privacy.”

In the years that followed, Sarah left her home in New Haven, Connecticut and made her way west.

In 1884, Sarah purchased an unfinished eight-room farmhouse in California’s Santa Clara Valley. Construction continued until her death in 1922. Without formal blueprints or a master plan, the modest home evolved into a 24,000-square-foot labyrinth featuring 160 rooms, 10,000 windows, 2,000 doors and countless architectural oddities.

During Sarah’s lifetime, stories spread that she was building to appease the spirits of those killed by Winchester rifles. This legend became the basis for the house’s haunted reputation and remains central to how the home is understood today. The property’s maze-like design disorients visitors, making them more susceptible to interpreting ordinary occurrences as supernatural ones. Psychological phenomena like pareidolia and confirmation bias explain why people may perceive ghosts, find meaning or patterns where none exist and reinforce supernatural beliefs they may already have.

Others have a more nuanced interpretation. “The house was never designed to confuse spirits, but to accommodate her evolving ideas, her health needs and her aesthetic tastes,” says Stollznow. “Its odd features are mostly the result of earthquake damage, remodeling interruptions or later additions made after her death to enhance the ‘mystery.’”

The house is partly informed by the era in which it was built. During the late 19th and early 20th centuries, spiritualism, a movement centered on communicating with the dead, captivated the American public. Séances and spirit photography became popular among the grieving upper class.

“Sarah’s reputed interest in spiritualism and séances is unsubstantiated by direct evidence, and is likely a conflation with cultural trends of the spiritualism era and a case of mistaken identity with other local figures,” says Stollznow. “Her veiling and seclusion were likely due to rheumatoid arthritis and concerns about her appearance—not otherworldly fears.”

Yellow journalism—sensationalist reporting—also played a role in cementing the house’s reputation. Following Sarah’s death, newspapers seized on rumors and speculation, printing dramatic headlines that branded the mansion a “spirit house.” By the time the house opened to the public in the 1920s, its ghostly backstory was already its main attraction.

“The 1895 San Jose Evening News article titled ‘A woman who thinks she will die when her house is built’ planted early seeds of superstition and speculation that grew into the elaborate ghost stories we hear today,” explains Stollznow.

Today, this narrative endures, amplified by pop culture, tourism and paranormal media. Ghost tours, offered daily, invite visitors to walk the winding halls, hear tales of phantom footsteps and cold spots and maybe catch a glimpse of Sarah herself.

“I have experienced windows slamming shut during meetings as if they were exclamation points on the topic being discussed, doors slowly opening down the hall as I approached and voices in an adjacent room when I believed I was the only person onsite,” says Magnuson. “You never feel alone at Winchester Mystery House.

Some believe Sarah’s constant remodeling was an early form of trauma processing—a physical way to stay busy and regain control after deep personal loss. The house, with its shifting halls and labyrinthine wings, can be read as a metaphor for grief. In recent years, Sarah has also been reexamined as a feminist icon, a woman who defied expectations, refused to remarry and followed her own path.

“Her focus on environmental design, water conservation and modern conveniences like steam heating and elevators suggests a forward-thinking mindset,” says Stollznow. “Moreover, Sarah was a philanthropist and contrary to the image of a reclusive madwoman, she maintained relationships with family members, employed and treated her staff generously and was a private but socially engaged individual within her community.”