Eastern State Penitentiary

A necessary pilgrimage for those of us in the Northeast with a penchant for old, historic buildings.

Eastern State Penitentiary was the first of its kind. Built in 1829, this architectural marvel was designed as an alternative to the prison systems of the eighteenth century. Its innovative wagon wheel, or hub-and-spoke, layout has been copied by over 300 other prisons throughout the world. It’s an iconic structure. At its birth, the most expensive public building this country had ever seen. Rather than act as a giant holding pen, ESP was to serve one primary purpose; criminals were expected to face their mortality and accept the weight of their sins before God. Here, they were to reflect in silence and solitude until they became penitent.

Thus, we now have the word “penitentiary.”

Originally, all prisoners were held in solitary confinement. The small concrete cells were barrel-vaulted with a single narrow skylight at the apex, a reminder that the eye of God is always watching. Interaction with other prisoners and even guards was stunted as much as possible. It was considered counterproductive to their repentance, and every effort was put in place to ensure prisoners had no reason to leave their confines.

Thick wooden cell doors blocked all outside noise. Inmates had access to a private exercise yard, encased in a ten-foot wall. Cells were furnished with central heating and flush toilets in an age when even the White House didn’t have running water. On the rare occasion that inmates did need to be moved, their heads were covered in a hood to preserve anonymity.

Eventually, questions arose about the humanity of the solitary confinement system. Charles Dickens himself, who toured the prison in 1842, admitted his disapproval of it in his travel journals. Slowly, ESP deviated from its original format. In the early 1900s, group workshops and sports leagues were established for the inmates. The private exercise yards were converted into a dining hall and additional workshops. Inmates were housed two or three to a cell. Solitary confinement was reserved for extreme punishment, and designated to a small row of underground cells that had no lights, no windows, and no plumbing. This was known as Klondike.

I went down into Klondike with a guide, ducking my head to avoid banging it on the low entry into the tunnel, and using my cellphone as a flashlight. It’s pitch black, cold, damp. The guide explained that one prisoner was left down there so long his vision was permanently damaged. I’m not claustrophobic, but I started feeling the inevitable weight of anxiety in my chest. Being held down there had to be a nightmare.

Matt and my parents both tagged along. My dad loves old prisons, and I knew he’d love it here; the history of Al Capone’s cushy one-year sentence at ESP is one of particular interest. I probably commented a hundred times to them, the place is just beautiful. It’s incredibly elegant, believe it or not. From the street, a rather foreboding neo-Gothic castle greets you, designed to instill fear into the public. Its intended message was clear: Commit crime, end up here.

Once you enter the premises, the contrast is incredible. There are spots you just look up and stare, taking in the ambiance and the scenery. Squint, and the arched windows and barrel-vaulted ceilings might feel like you’re in a cathedral; just as architect John Haviland intended. At times, you have to remind yourself you’re actually roaming the halls of an abandoned prison. It’s fascinating.

My last stop was Death Row, the newest unit on the premises having been added in 1956. Prisoners were separated from guards at all times in this dank, and very creepy chain of cells. An execution was never carried out at Eastern State.

Today, the prison is equal parts museum and interactive art piece. It’s certainly received the royal treatment as far as abandonments go, having been preserved to a level of safe exploration for anyone who wants to visit. Clearly, a lot of people do. A docent there confessed that more people visit Philadelphia to see and experience ESP than the Liberty Bell. To me, that speaks of how universal the adoration and intrigue is for these types of old buildings. It gives me hope knowing that this important piece of our history, once doomed for the wrecking ball, has lived on to educate and inspire others.

More of my abandoned photography is on my Vsco grid and fine art website. Thanks to VSCO for featuring two of these images on the curated grid.