Prison Museum

Eastern State Penitentiary: A Museum with a Mission.

Tom, one of the directors of the museum, met us at the cold, stoney entrance of the 19th century Penitentiary. Guards closed me in as I arrived, the gates making an eerie squeaky sound when they closed, which ended with a cold, metallic “CLAMP!” as they shut tightly. I felt fooled into entering, as the guard smiled coyly at me when I announced “Temple” upon my arrival. “Sure”, he responded with a twisted smile that caught up with me later.

The long, narrow stone hallway made me wonder how many people had turned around right there and decided to exercise their freedom. I tried to play along, walking as a prisoner may have walked, in rows of two at a steady pace. We entered the recently re-renovated synagogue, which was only welcoming because of the obvious warmth emitting from it. I was surprised at it’s cleanliness and the unimposing smell of the wood around us. Two skylights made the low ceilings tolerable, but I could not help but be claustrophobic here. I almost left the room on several occasions, but Tom was just too interesting.

Upon flipping down one of the wooden benches, he revealed the information placards and at the same time, the old entrances from the cell blocks to the once tiny open-air cell yards that at one time belonged to each cell, of which 4 were combined together at some point and given a roof to create the synagogue for the prison’s Jewish population. The walls smelled like stone. The width of each cell gave an indication of the size of the living spaces in which the prisoners of Eastern State resided during their sentences there. They were, in a word, small. I felt crammed in the room, though with 10 others, to begin with.

Here is a photo of Tom revealing the walls of the four cells behind the wooden benches, though you can’t see him.

The revealing wooden panel reminded me of the piece I read in  Letting Go? Shared Authority in a User-Driven World which was written by Mary Teeling when she visited the very unique “Dennis Server House Museum” in London. She describes the subtle uses that Dennis had for modern objects from our century, such as his Yankees baseball hat, as being strategically placed on a 19th century table amongst other 19th century things in a mostly 19th century home. These objects manage to co-exist in time, merging the histories of those who lived in the house. Though more intentionally presented here at the prison museum, the mixing of the old with the new allowed the observer to see through layers of time. It also made the synagogue seem all the more cozy, and as is it were part of some kind of seeming evolution of the penitentiary system.

Another example of this evaluation could be seen as the prison yard which was used as a baseball field, which also wasn’t always there. Prisoners; before the yard was opened up, were forced into solitude with only a tiny, individual prison yard. Seems like progress, right?

The next part of our journey revealed big news, and the biggest mission of the prison museum as it stands today. In being the first Penitentiary of it’s kind in the United States, the Eastern State Penitentiary seems to have some blatant contradictions.

But overall the contradictions far surmount the prison’s seeming social advancements. As Tom explained that since 1970, the number of individuals incarcerated in the prison system in the U.S. has sharply increased to astronomical levels, far above the levels of any other country in the World.

The museum’s current grand mission is to bring that information forth into the light, and when you see the larger-than life 3-dimensional bar graph exhibit they build showing the U.S. as literally towering above all other nations in it’s per-capita prison rate, it seems likely that the mission is likely to be accomplished. As visitors flock around the large scale graph and decipher it’s meaning it becomes a un-ignorable punctuation of the issue of mass incarceration  in the U.S. or as Tom puts it, “The greatest civil rights disaster of our generation”.

Here, the punctuated “Red” graph bar seems to rise higher than the prison Walls.

I had trouble getting this whole phallic object of prison rates in the picture!!

Zoom in to enjoy the huge discrepancy between Rwanda, the highest rate listed under the U.S., which is up at just under 800 per 100,000 humans!!

Levi Fox visit

To Trump or Not to Trump, Yes is the answer! Levi Fox stays on course to complete his vision of The Atlantic City Trump Museum Project.

When I first heard it, I was a little queasy….but then..

I realize now I may have pre-judged Levi Fox just a little bit about his Atlantic City Trump Museum Project. I thought it was something Trump was doing or actively a part of when he first asked what we thought it was. I assumed it was being set up to glorify his honor, and the thought made me feel immediately detached from Levi, who turns out to be about as personable as a person can be. First I found out that he is in charge of the project, not President Trump, and he works as a tour guide in  A.C. and he is from the area. Next I found out it is not Levi’s intention to glorify anyone. He is a real historian, which means he is obsessed with history and knows enough about it to know that, at least in the case of the Atlantic City boardwalk and A.C. itself, history is simply disappearing. Levi’s solution is to harness the immediacy and the attention which Trump has been getting as a catalyst for preserving some of this history that is rapidly disappearing and also to create a safe dialogue space about the very polarized issue of the 45th American President.

In the book Letting Go? Shared authority in a user-generated World, historian Nona Simon discusses a temporary exhibit the Denver Community Museum which utilized as she puts it, “visitor-generated objects” (Simon 32) , which is exactly what I thought of when Levi whipped out his little Trump insignia mariners cooler full of Trump casino and resort objects. These are some of the things Levi envisions in the museum and they include: a Trump Taj Mahal beach towel, a golden box from a Trump Resort hotel (which was really brass and made in Taiwan), a promotional deck of cards from the Trump-days Harrah’s on the A.C. boardwalk ( a nice die to go with it), and a lovely TRUMP logo windbreaker. All which were promo items for casino-goers in the hey-day of Trump’s boardwalk reign, which didn’t seem to end well, as Levi is careful to point out.

Good Luck Levi!!

Levi admits that protests may erupt outside his museum, and nasty comments back and forth might surface on internet related propaganda for his museum, but he welcomes this. He feels that this venue is a safe and meaningful way for people to air their grievances and fulfill whatever desires they need to fulfill, while they learn something that is both relevant and immediate to our world. It allows people to breath life into a now immediate history, but which someday become “real”. After the class, I told Levi about my uncle Larry who had lived and worked in A.C. during Trumps heyday and asked if he would like to interview him. He was very excited about this prospect. Similarly, in LettingGo… Simon talks about the Lodz Ghetto project, which was designed to have participants in the exhibit actively be a part of it’s historical process by providing bits of research on the whereabouts of holocaust survivors on-site (Simon 28).

Levi’s model fits in with the Simon’s 5 “necessaries” in order to generate satisfaction and interest in his museum (Simon 21) which include relevancy, a safe place to express oneself, and inclusion of many viewpoints. I will visit the museum, and hope Levi goes through with it! Good Luck!

Editor Joeseph N. Newland. Letting Go? Shared Authority in a User-generated World.  The Pew Center For the Arts and Heritage, Philadelphia. 2011.


The Urn

Yesterday we visited the Tyler Art School division of Temple,

Melissa Rachleff writes in “Letting Go? Sharing Historical Authority in a User-Generated World” discusses how it is less analytical for artists to create projects which are very different from our past, nowadays we are constantly looking to the audience. Over and over arises the question of historical authority….who actually has it? Turns out, most of this “authority” is left to one big word. Interpretation. Members of the community , maybe former school teachers, and never irrellevant or forgotten; the artists who exist in life outside of the rules. As far as mu experiences as an artist, well, I have found it to be a naturally more collaborative process wins artists over more often than not. Melissa Rachleff seems to agree with me on that, we are constantly facing the issue of audience, and it is becoming more and more difficult. The bonus here is that artists, for the most part, they just don’t care about audience.

John Kuo Wei Tchen and Liz Sevcenko discuss the conventionalty of historical work as seemingly full of red tape, in a way. It may devalue the work of history automatically without even trying, possibly undermining a whole culture. A sort of “hidden history” is born from this, hidden from, as John Kuo Wei and Liz Sevcenko refer to as “a master narrative”.

And as for social conflict? Well, this religiously assertive depiction of an URN reflects directly on this artist who may very well be juxtaposed to the artistic social climate at Temple. The question is, Can we have that discussion? We mustn’t be afraid of simplicity, the URN, front and back, layden with the death scenes of Christ from the bible, mustn’t be perceived as oversimplified.

Not to remain trapped.


The Colonial Monastery, where time stands still.

On a Hillside by the Wissahickon

In an urban metropolis like Philadelphia, it is hard to believe that one can still find an undeveloped hillside from which the stars can be viewed, and in seemingly intentional amalgamation their central viewing point. A two-hundred and eighty-year-old structure which is now referred to as “the Colonial Monastery” fulfills just that purpose, and so much more for the people who allow it to touch their heart and tap into their sense of mystique.

The Monastery itself is located deep within Fairmount Park’s “Wissahickon Woods” and who’s wayward hikers and bikers have often come across rather inadvertently. They can be seen looking around as they try to orient themselves back onto the Wissahickon’s broad, gravelly trails while unknowingly absorbing  a moment upon the grounds which hold three centuries of livelihoods to seekers of religious freedom and yearners for a free utopia; and then still before, received spiritual attention from the ancient ancestors of the land who revered the land as sacred and considered this place as undefiled and worthy of performing important ceremonies.

Referred to commonly as “The Colonial Inn and Monastery”, the grounds include a large structure which is the “Inn and Monastery” part of it, as well as an active stable where people can board their horses and riding lessons are offered to the youth for a fee. The horse stables can be found under the term “Monastery Stables” and are a separate entity from the Monastery itself.


A little out of the Way.

Though located within the city of Philadelphia, to get to the Monastery at 1000 Kitchens Lane, one has to make a hard and sudden left off of Wissahickon Ave onto a steep, ill-repaired road only to be confused by the multitude of options for turning onto the wrong road to finally arrive at its well-wooded home at the scoop of the hill and presence of it’s sacred ridge. As I pull up the hill, the only traffic sign, once obviously showing 10mph, has a large, bold decal superimposed over the 10….a big, fat number 7. So I slow down to a crawl remembering the large, elegant, gentle creatures locked in their stalls who will receive me as I mount the hill to park nose-up on the edge of the grass on the eastern ridge.

The Monastery

The Monastery was officially completed in 1757 in a Germanic style with its additional quarters on the side, but newer sources put the completion of the original main construction at 1737. There were several modifications made over time, such as chimney’s being sealed off and fireplaces closed off, but not that much has changed since the mid 19th century, besides the addition of a heating furnace and removable air conditioners seasonally.

At its inception, the Monastery was built as such, A monastery for the generational followers of the Johannes Kelpius who arrived in 1673 under the most difficult of circumstances with 40 of his spiritual brethren. The Kelpius society lived in dwellings nearby and used some of the caves of the Wissahickon as meeting places to meditate on their ultimate mission, which was filtered in through the secret meetings throughout caves in Europe….Sir. Francis Bacon (a.k.a. William Shakespeare and his “The New Atlantis” writings) who led many of them. The mission: the framing of the free world as we would come to know it. The patent for the land was issued to Frances Trenchard in 1691. After this, the Zionitic Brotherhood are credited with the construction of the original Monastery on the land. They were considered the spiritual offspring of the Kelpius society, who had weathered a difficult life in the Wissahickon in their far more rudimentary dwellings previously which did not survive, but the brethren did with farming help from the Lenape natives who proliferated the area. The land around the Monastery was considered sacred up until recently. They held naming ceremonies and other rituals up on the eastern ridge for as long as anyone can remember until a few years ago. The Monastery and its grounds survived, mostly unscathed, over the many years until it’s re-discovery.

The Middle

Sold several times over, the eventual value of the land became entangled with the Wissahickon’s powerful milling influence, which reached its highest count with 15 mills in the 1830’s. Joshua Garsed purchased the building and would make many changes to it between 1831-1842, when he and his family enjoyed tremendous success as millers (often in paper) in the Wissahickon as “Garsed Raines & Company Manufacturers”. The other two families who benefited from the milling industry and possibly lived in the Monastery consecutively were at first the Gorgas (prominent milling family and owners), then the Kitchens (for whom the street leading to the door owes its respect) and finally, in the prominent mill era, the Livezey family. It is speculated that the millers, seasonal workers, and their families took up residence in the home during those prosperous years. Milling was a hugely important industry for the Wissahickon during this time, but the mills would eventually be shut down and many dismantled for concerns regarding their possible detrimental impact on the environment and on Philadelphia’s waterways in the late 19th century. The Monastery was then acquired by the Fairmount Park Commission in 1897.

20th C.E. Monastery “Ye Old Golf Club”

By 1900, the Monastery was rented from the Parks Commission as the “Old Monastery Golf Club”. Lockers were installed and the Monastery had found its purpose of housing the local Golf Club. The Monastery would maintain this prestige until 1914. After this time, the Monastery would become housing for the park rangers of Fairmount Park and their families until roughly 1956. After the golf craze, and all the way up until the 1980’s, rooms were said to be rented out for as little as a dollar a year and much of the Monastery was utilized for storage, firewood and other things by the park commission.

A Modern Day Monastery

Somehow the monastery would remain unscathed, but a study from the University of Pennsylvania in 1996 captured this image of the stark state inside the monastery:


Photo from 2006 U Penn Study








Though not in disrepair, the Monastery was covered in dust and stuffed with supplies,  and possibly in some level of disrepair.

Now we perceive a different Monastery. Now called “The President’s Room” by Jan Graber, the current proprietor of the Monastery, Jan has few complaints about the continued condition of the Monastery, stating that “The Monastery has been taken care of.”, yet below is a current photo of the same room in the Monastery after Jan had decorated it in 2017.

2006 A Special Year for the Monastery

After the Monastery had been seemingly abandoned since the late 1980’s, a woman named Susan Gram collaborated with her designer friend Jan Graber in 2006 to take on this isolated, yet significant piece of Philadelphia’s history.  One of the most important of hundreds of historical sights to the Fairmount park commission, these ladies agreed to set up the Monastery to reflect its original purpose. Susan rolled up her sleeves and cleaned/repaired many needed items while Jan, an official designer, sought to identify the rooms and officially designated spaces, all unique within the building, lifting it out of its monochromatic state. The president’s room is just one example.

Now modernized and privately rented, the Monastery represents an opportunity for gatherings, meetings, and bed and breakfast guests who may wish to relate to the purpose of the Monastery in its original essence. The songs and teachings of the Kelpius brotherhood, the love perpetuated by the members of the Kelpius society, and of those who brought the first telescope to the United States, as they help us relate to the etherial and to the stars.

As I walked out the front door of the Monastery on Sunday night after sharing Presidents day dinner with my son and his friend there, along with plenty of kind people, historians, and family friends, we were struck by a bright star blinking proudly and directly over the garden path to the Monastery. There is some firm speculation that these celestial bodies were cornerstones around which the Monastery was built. These celestial bodies remain as important as the foundation on which the monastery itself was built.

Today, the vision, as Jan explains, is the Monastery calling people to it. Though the property is, in essence, private, it attracts certain people who need it or who seek to it. One example of this is the patronage of the crew of the replicated French ship Le’Hermoine completed in 2015, which is an exact replica ship of General Lafayette’s ship from 1779 which brought supplies for the colonies that helped us win the revolutionary war. It took one full year to train its crew. Not only did they FIND Jan upon Jan’s visit to the ship and stayed at the Monastery, they ended up planting a lilac tree on the grounds of the Monastery to commemorate General Lafayette’s contribution to winning the war,  adding the crew as a woven fiber within the landscape of the land just outside of the building. I myself had the honor of planting a memorial garden, not too far from the lilac tree, using strict celestial codes that may have been important to the Kelpius. So we are not just guests, we are part of the garden in a meaningful way that takes us from being outsiders to insiders. Somehow we are committed to our presence there to the sense of brotherhood which has, Jan believes, has always been present there.

Some events held there today are; women’s gatherings, retreats, historical luncheons, dinners, spiritual gatherings, vegetarian cooking classes. All events can be “bed and breakfast” style excursions, where many patrons have claimed to “absorb” the special energy the monastery emits. The sound of the nearby Wissahickon Waterfall lulls guests to sleep (I can attest, as I have been one) and there is a fire pit surrounded by chairs alongside the building which is always set up to build a small bonfire at the request of the guests.

Photos courtesy Najia Arts

By day, remnants of a cave which has since been walled off are easily accessible through a hole in the stone wall surrounding the property. There is some speculation among local historians that this opening was once an entryway for a cave utilized in the underground railroad.

Jan currently manages the site with volunteers who frequent the Monastery and who sometimes stay there. She is the sole proprietor, paying a rent of 2,500 dollars per month to the Fairmount Park commission, who as she explains, make the necessary repairs to the Monastery with the rent money. The commission has told her that her rent money is the sole source of funding for the Monastery. With the rooms beautifully furnished, themed and livable now (and quite a bit beyond that), Jan utilizes the Monastery as a bed and breakfast for interested parties. She also rents out the building and grounds for retreats, conferences, educational venues and is open minded to other sorts of events and ideas for the Monastery’s use.


Jan hopes to connect the present to the past for onlookers and participants in the Monastery’s various events and people interested in it. She hopes to induce a sense of brotherhood and connection to one another, as well as the divine as the Kelpius brotherhood had once done so long ago. She feels the magnetism of the land and the Monastery will attract the right people at the right time, and at about 100 visitors per year, perhaps she is right. She says the Monastery still functions the way it always has, as a safe haven or a place of spiritual refreshment for weary souls. The next project for Jan is building a garden that would be similar to a garden that may have existed when the Monastery was built by the brotherhood. She wishes to include anyone interested in the project which is to start this spring.

The Legend of the Wissahickon tells the tale of when General Washington possibly stumbled upon the Monastery and sought shelter with the small family who resided there at the time. Washington was supposedly lost in the Wissahickon woods in the snowy winter and it was said that he was overcome with his vision of the new republic within the Monastery blockhouse’s very walls. The blockhouse no longer stands although local historians have an idea of where it was. Whether or not George Washington held his high vision on the land near the Monastery or not, it is a visionary place. It is set beautifully by a waterfall and amalgamated perfectly to capture the light of the sun, moon, and stars at different times. It is worth some your time and interest to pursue a visit, or perhaps an overnight retreat in one of its themed, well-decorated rooms.


The Legend of the Wissahickon, George Washington’s vision

Jan Graber, personal interview, 2/20 and 2/22, 2017

Graduate Study, Historic Preservation: University of Pennsylvania, 1996

The Elizabeth Powell House


I bang on the huge, oak door with it’s heavy, iron door knocker. I am five minutes late for the tour and filled with urgency. Immediately someone responds on the other side…the house is alive.

What makes this place special? The Powell House is located in Center City Philadelphia (244 South 3rd), making it a rarity being one of the only house museums of it’s kind in the area. Visitors are allowed to wander through the house at will, opening and closing the large oak doors with tiny brass knobs. 

I had the pleasure of being here before on a tour led by the then associate, now director of the museum, Jonathan Burton. My original tour was predictable, historical information on the people who lived in the house just after it’s construction and a few subsequent generations beyond. The house was built in 1765 and the Powell family, a prominent political and banking family of colonial Philadelphia, moved in shortly thereafter.

The tour was traditional of a house museum, and we learned that very little of the facade inside of the rooms remained original, as it was all sold by a previous owner to The Met in New York and the Art museum of Philadelphia. All that is left that is original to the home, though some important trim work and plaster work had been recreated, were the wooden floors and the floor marble of the fireplaces.

The original floor of the ballroom, where George Washington danced.

Original Marble floor at the fireplace

I tried to imagine the rooms transpotted into the museum scene with it’s climate-controlled environment where onlookers might stand, roped off, peering into the colonial past. I was touched with a spell of sadness as I imagined this new sterility. Here I was being spoiled by the houses location, the sun streaming through the broad windows in a timeless way. The high ceilings and large rooms boast social prominence. The dull, unvarnished wooden floors became far more relevant than a floor should be, and I suddenly found myself sweeping my foot across the boards trying to allow it to infuse me with George and Martha Washington colonial magic…

Jonathan explained that the dismantling and selling off of actual pieces of the house was crucial in the preservation of the house itself, and brought him to question the actual meaning of historical preservation. 

Treasure Chest

From the onset, I could see that this this tour would be different. At almost the beginning, Jonathan revealed to us that a trunk of letters and ledgers had been recently discovered and they were being compiled and shipped to the house. These new findings were letters penned by the wife of the owner of the original home, Elizabeth Powell, and reflected her role as the owner of the home and business woman in her later years after the passing of her husband, Samuel Powell. This put the history of this 250+ year old house into the present, and my imagination sieved through the possibilities of the discovery. The house was still alive, after all this time.

The Powell House had also been taking on far more new and imaginative endeavors, such as an interractive Philly-Fringe opera performance which incorporated “characters”   from various time-periods throughout the complete history of the home, not just the colonial period. This was the first time I had heard of residents who had lived at the home between the colonial time and the the 1930’s, when the house was acquired by Frances Wister for historical preservation. In addition to Jonathan a former Temple student (who I shared a class with) assisted with the tour and gave us good backgrounds on many of the female influences of the house over time. The journey of the home was brought full circle. The name that Landmark uses for the house is The Samuel Powell house. As you see, I have changed the name in light of the recent emphasis of the woman’s side of the story. Elizabeth Willing Powell, who’s  portrait hangs in watch over almost every room, is now in the spotlight along with all the in-betweens of the house’s life. 




The Wagner

There are plenty of gemstones to discover at the Wagner.

The Wagner Institute of Science, still free.

Upon our visit to the Wagner Free Institute of Science at 1700 Montgomery Street in Philadelphia, I noticed not much had changed since the l had been there before about 2 years ago.

Of course, not much has effectively changed at the Wagner since it’s glory days in the late 1800’s. It seems like time stands still there. Maybe the opening one of the wooden draws wiggles an object slightly out of place in a display case, or a small taxidermy mammal seems to come to life for a moment from the vibration of the people walking around on the creaky wooden floor, but these are the only motions that seem to reflect signs of life from this bygone era.

Us thrill seekers, however, brought the party as we oozed through the museum, glued to the visual specimens of possibly now-extinct animal taxidermies and oddities throughout.

One thing I know about the Wagner is that not on my second trip, or do I believe by my 10th trip to the Wagner, will I ever be able to take it all in one trip there. It’s collection is comprised of a dizzying amount of natural specimens displayed in an organized fashion, also labeled in latin, neatly and painstakingly to ensure no confusion between words like “Flourite” and “Flourine”. These subtleties may been innocuous to the public masses that flooded the museum at the turn of the century, many of whom were mostly illiterate, but I am sure that any Geologist of any era would have found/find days of indulgence pouring over the multitude of cases which hold stone and gem specimines.

As for myself, I guess I will have to return to the Wagner someday soon. I have absolutely no excuses, and much more absorbing to do. The Wagner remains a free natural science museum, though sources of funding are in a constant state of uncertainty. Perpetuated mostly by private grant, the future of the Wagner seems hazy.

With it’s current new status as a National Treasure, it is hoped that new intrest will be sparked among the changing community landscape. It wouldn’t be surprising, considering the recent spike of popularity of all things having to do with early United Stated history. It’s everywhere, from the new beard fad to the period shows like “Taboo”, it is clear that the return our early American roots is becoming a sensation these days.