skip to main |
skip to sidebar
My first time at Eastern State Penitentiary was in 1994, not long after the decrepit prison was opened to the public for the first time since 1971. The decay was so fresh that guests were required to wear hardhats. I had never heard the term "Preserved State of Decay" until my first tour of Eastern State. It conjures up images of rusted industrial equipment frozen in time and abandoned churches that still stand as a testament to respectful communities. In all, it represents what I love about Philadelphia. While many cities would choose to restore even their most sinister landmarks, and employ marketing strategies to build their urban landscape around the appeal of the status quo, Philadelphia routinely chooses to embrace it's grit. We've never been clean, we've never been polished, and that is reflected in the choice to retain Eastern State as it is.
From its creation in 1829, it was a dark institution where every criminal was forced into solitary confinement. As the first of its kind, the famed prison attracted a visit by Charles Dickens, who wrote of it, "I hold this slow and daily tampering with the mysteries of the brain, to be immeasurably worse than any torture of the body." Outside their cells the inmates wore masks and were not allowed any contact with the world, not even with other inmates or guards. The Quaker philosophy of the prison prohibited physical abuse, so the prison became creative in its psychological punishment, often withholding necessities such as food or warmth, or employing even more bizarre tactics that would make Marie Antoinette blush.
Today Eastern State looms over the Fairmount neighborhood above Center City Philadelphia. The granite stained with almost 200 years of industry, blight, and rebirth. From outside the walls one may expect a museum that recites the history of the institution, offering tourists a five minute lock-in, and impeccably restored cell blocks. That wouldn't be very Philadelphian, and it certainly doesn't befit the history of Eastern State Penitentiary. Instead, what you will find is a handful of restored cells, several markers explaining what you are seeing, constantly changing art exhibits mostly inspired by the macabre surroundings, and lots of rotting wood, peeling paint, dust, rust, dirt, and nightmares. Even the cell that once held Al Capone, with the exception of the luxuries representing those brought to him by corrupt guards (including plush furniture and a radio), the room itself has not been touched or cleaned.
But it isn't all a dreary reminder of crime, abuse, and abandonment. One of my favorite art exhibits, and perhaps Eastern State's only permanent fixture is Linda Brenner's Ghost Cats. For 28 years, Dan McCloud cared for Eastern State's only inhabitants during it's decades of abandonment. As the shrubs and trees began to eat away at the stone and concrete, and nature began to reclaim its own, three times a week McCloud would go to the prison and feed a colony of stray cats that had begun to call this land their own. Brenner's Ghost Cats consists of 39 simple sculptures throughout the grounds all in uniquely feline poses, paying homage to McCloud and his cats.
The normal yearly tour will take visitors on an audio journey recorded by Steve Buscemi, in which you may explore the ruins at your own pace. Once complete, visitors are free to roam the grounds on their own, exploring nearly every nasty cranny of the hauntingly peaceful edifice. The winter tour is limited to small groups led by tour guides and because of the weather, all guests must remain with the tour guide. If you choose this, go when it snows and bundle up. And of course, every Halloween Eastern State Penitentiary hosts Terror Behind the Walls, consistently ranked as one of the country's best Halloween attractions. It's fun scary, not gross scary, and certainly worth your money. Although if one chooses to visit Eastern State on Halloween, I strongly suggest returning for the self guided tour. Even if you don't see any ghosts or goblins, you will be haunted.
Once in the middle of Dilworth Plaza, on the corner of West Market Street and a now defunct portion of South Broad Street at 2 South Broad was the site of the Third National Bank. Built in 1892, it was designed by James Windrim & Son. Alterations were designed by Baker & Dallett in 1911 and John Torry Windrim in 1921. The last incarnation of the Third National Bank was demolished with the Arcade Building in the 1960s to make room for Dilworth Plaza, which shifted all southbound Penn Square traffic from South Broad to 15th Street.
311 N. 12th Street might not be a flop house for the homeless much longer. If you're unsure which building this is, it's the giant warehouse near 12th and Vine rising above the corn mural. It's covered in graffiti and has almost no windows remaining.
The building was purchased by Post Brothers Apartments, a Philadelphia apartment company that owns and runs several properties in the city. Currently the dilapidated building, known as a favorite of graffiti artists, is being cleaned and the exits are being secured. Yesterday crew could even be seen pulling weeds from the sidewalk. According to Brownstoner, squatters had tunneled into the building to avoid being seen.
The first two floors will receive plywood coverings decorated by local artists. Post Brothers is anticipating occupancy in 18 optimistic months. The building is in the Callowhill Industrial Historic District which is on the National Register of Historic Places.
A rendering from 1979 shows the Rouse Company's planned 20+ story office towers atop the Gallery II at 10th and Market. The office complex would have added 440,000 square feet of office space at the former site of the Harrison Building. The Gallery II opened in 1983 and the plans for the office towers were moth-balled. The structure was built to support two towers and the plans were revisited in 1993 by SEPTA, and even more recently were suggested as a possible location for the Foxwoods Casino's hotel tower.
Brian Goes to Town
Deja Vu.
Again.
The (almost) final draft for the waterfront plan is almost complete. I'm not sure what that means given I can recall dozens of these waterfront plans floating around over the past several years.
I still don't see how this plan is going to generate the money it needs to work. And I don't see where all these phantom mid-rise buildings are coming from. With all the vacant lots and surface parking in Center City, I can't imagine why developers would eye the waterfront or why residents would choose to live here, especially if they are removing the concert venue space which is perhaps the neighborhood's only financial draw.
I feel like we've heard all this before.
A trained monkey can draw up some renderings, but what I want to hear are the financial logistics for this fifity year plan.
"Gee, don't be so negative. Civic plans that span half a century always work out. Especially when the bulk of it relies on private real estate investment."
Why can't we just start small, piece by piece? Keep what is moderately successful: the venue space, the Seaport Museum, the historic ships, The Chart House, etc., and focus on the weed-filled litter boxes that haven't yet been developed.
I don't understand why this has to be one massive, cohesive plan. Why can't it evolve organically like the rest of the city? I don't see anyone developing a "Civic Plan for the Convention Center District" where we have a sea of parking lots, and that is only two blocks from City Hall and actually has an existing street life.
We should tackle what we can when we can. Planning a half century of speculative development for a huge tract of land won't go anywhere. We'll wind up with just another incarnation of the moderately successful waterfront that we have now, 20 years from now. We need to add to what we have, not start over. Then if the additions prove successful, we improve the previously existing infrastructure with the money generated by the additions.
Philly.com
PlanPhilly.com
Light Adrift
For one weekend Meejin Yoon's Light Adrift illuminated the Schuylkill River like an urban Close Encounters of the Third Kind. The interactive lighting installation was soothing, though admittedly was one of those things you look at and think, "huh, that's cool," and move on. As art, it's a stretch to search for meaning. Unfortunately it was only for three nights. It would serve brilliantly as a permanent compliment to the Cira Centre's ever-changing light display and PECO's new crown. Even the IRS renovations to the old postal headquarters dazzled the river's reflection. It was nice to see the Schuylkill Banks after dark weren't littered with vagrants. Hopefully more displays and activities will lead people to the waterfront after hours.
Looks like another NIMBY might save another beloved vacant lot. Since when do Civic Associations form subcommittees? What's worse, since when do developers and politicians listen to them? Come on people, get a job. Right now, any development is good development.
I would love to hear someone explain their opposition? Given the explanation on the OCCA website it sounds like their opposition is simply to be a thorn in the developer's ass. I see a lot of fancy words that don't really state any position.
From its creation in 1829, it was a dark institution where every criminal was forced into solitary confinement. As the first of its kind, the famed prison attracted a visit by Charles Dickens, who wrote of it, "I hold this slow and daily tampering with the mysteries of the brain, to be immeasurably worse than any torture of the body." Outside their cells the inmates wore masks and were not allowed any contact with the world, not even with other inmates or guards. The Quaker philosophy of the prison prohibited physical abuse, so the prison became creative in its psychological punishment, often withholding necessities such as food or warmth, or employing even more bizarre tactics that would make Marie Antoinette blush.
Today Eastern State looms over the Fairmount neighborhood above Center City Philadelphia. The granite stained with almost 200 years of industry, blight, and rebirth. From outside the walls one may expect a museum that recites the history of the institution, offering tourists a five minute lock-in, and impeccably restored cell blocks. That wouldn't be very Philadelphian, and it certainly doesn't befit the history of Eastern State Penitentiary. Instead, what you will find is a handful of restored cells, several markers explaining what you are seeing, constantly changing art exhibits mostly inspired by the macabre surroundings, and lots of rotting wood, peeling paint, dust, rust, dirt, and nightmares. Even the cell that once held Al Capone, with the exception of the luxuries representing those brought to him by corrupt guards (including plush furniture and a radio), the room itself has not been touched or cleaned.
The normal yearly tour will take visitors on an audio journey recorded by Steve Buscemi, in which you may explore the ruins at your own pace. Once complete, visitors are free to roam the grounds on their own, exploring nearly every nasty cranny of the hauntingly peaceful edifice. The winter tour is limited to small groups led by tour guides and because of the weather, all guests must remain with the tour guide. If you choose this, go when it snows and bundle up. And of course, every Halloween Eastern State Penitentiary hosts Terror Behind the Walls, consistently ranked as one of the country's best Halloween attractions. It's fun scary, not gross scary, and certainly worth your money. Although if one chooses to visit Eastern State on Halloween, I strongly suggest returning for the self guided tour. Even if you don't see any ghosts or goblins, you will be haunted.
