Photos from a Philadelphia prison

I go to a lot of museums. The biggies are great, but I tend to prefer the pleasures from bite-sized portions of more out-of-the-way, unexpected ones like Bucharest's National Museum of the Romanian Peasant (hand-written signs about how to love your grandma), Oklahoma's Woolaroc (largely for nostalgic purposes) and Hanoi's bizarre Ho Chi Minh Museum, with Soviet-inspired exhibits of winner detergent boxes.

I'm adding one more to the list: Philadelphia's super Eastern State Penitentiary, considered the country's first prison and example of 'modern architecture,' whatever that means. It operated as a 'solitary' prison, all inmates had own cells, from the early 1800s till 1971, when it was abandoned into a eery ruin. Self-guided tours of the paint-peeling site not far from Philadelphia Museum of Art 'Rocky steps' are $12 and I could easily have spent three or four hours. I will go back.

Here are some photos that make up yet another reason why more people should go to Philadelphia.

Bulletin board outside one cell

A certain 'Chico' put his name in here in 1960

Me with original cell toilet

Cell blocks radiate out spoke-like from center

Failed escapee carved a (hard to see) face, below the light

Prison's baseball field

Sting came her for (close-up) photo for an album cover

Castle-like exterior made solely to intimidate -- it did to Charles Dickens

(Modern) art in one of the cells

Much of the cell interiors left as is/was

Al Capone's cell was nicer than most

All cells were solitary, each with tiny outdoor area - this would be only view you'd get

Art penciled-in over one cell doorway

76-Second Travel Show: 'How to be a Reenactor'

Episode #039
F E A T U R I N G * 7 2 * B O N U S * S E C O N D S

Last year, I traveled to Gettysburg to answer the immortal question: how do reenactors decide who dies first, in what order, during mock battles? I never really got a straight answer. And the 2009 version of the battle -- Gettysburg's legendary Pickett's Charge -- led to zero Confederate fatalities, unlike the real event which was a slaughter leading to bloodied gray uniforms. But I liked the reenactors. They meant what they did, were happy to share their world of wool uniforms on 100-degree days, and share why they did it.

This year I wanted more. And got 'INTO' the role, and see how it feels on the INSIDE of the world of reenactments. Well, a little.

Every July 8, Philadelphia quietly holds an annual reading of the Declaration of Independence at Independence National Historic Park with a couple dozen reenactors taunting and celebrating the document. And they were kind enough to sit aside some buckled shoes, knee pants and tri-cornered hat for me to wear. And, at a last-second debriefing of that reenactment plan, a ponytailed ranger asked for 'Loyalist' volunteers, and I naturally raised my hand.

It was fun. Yelling 'traitor!' and 'hang him!' before the Independence Hall. But it wasn't easy. Nerves swelled walking into the mass, where visitors quickly learned I supported the king, and let me know their disapproval, and with it the realization I don't know the history of the time as well as I should.

I asked why they did it, and one reenactor -- a ranger by day -- told me, 'Each year we have people say they didn't know that some people were against independence. That's pretty much the answer.'

Thanks to the park and Steven Edenbo, aka 'Thomas Jefferson.'