Happy birthday, Orville Wright!

Alphonse Mucha

         This week, someone I’ve been interested in for a long time.  And someone so much more interesting than I ever knew.  Alphonse (originally Alfons, but I’m going with the westernized spelling) Mucha was the creator of Art Nouveau, but was also extremely interested in restoring the history of the Czech/Slovakian peoples.  His biggest, and what he considered his most important, piece is something I’d never heard of before.  But, to start at the beginning.

            Alphonse Maria Mucha was born July 24, 1860 in Ivančice, Moravia in the Austro-Hungarian Empire, in what is now the Czech Republic.  Mucha’s father was a court usher and his mother had been a governess in Vienna.  Mucha had two older half-sisters from his father’s previous marriage, and would have two younger sisters as well.

            From an early age, art was Mucha’s main hobby.  In 1868 he produced one of his first pieces, a Crucifixion, showing the heavy influence of the Catholic Church on him.  Art wasn’t going to allow him to do much though, and at age twelve he received a “choral scholarship from the Petrov Church to board at the Gymnázium Slovanské secondary school in Brno” (1).  However, just five years later, Mucha was “expelled from school due to poor academic performance” (2).  His father found him a job back in Ivančice after his expulsion, and on his way there Mucha visited a friend in Ústí nad Orlicí.  At a local church he saw a fresco by the current, local artist Jan Umlauf.  Once he saw that artists currently working in the area could earn a living, Mucha “resolve[d] to become a professional artist” (3).

            So the next year Mucha applied to the Prague Academy of Art, but didn’t get in.  Instead, he worked at administrative jobs while pursuing “decorative design work for local magazines and theatres” (4).  Two years later, Mucha applied and was accepted to “become an apprentice scenery painter at Vienna’s Kautsky-Brioschi-Burghardt theatre design company” (5).  Mucha began taking evening classes as well, and visiting galleries and art exhibits as well, taking an interest in Hans Makart.  Makart was a current Austrian painter, designer, and decorator; he was a celebrity in Vienna at the time and influenced other artists as well, such as Gustav Klimt.

            Mucha’s success with Kautsky-Brioschi-Burghardt was short-lived though, due to the Ring Theatre burning down.  The Ring Theatre was one of Kautsky-Brioschi-Burghardt’s biggest and most important clients at the time.  A lot of Kautsky-Brioschi-Burghardt’s staff was laid off due to the decrease in the amount of work needed; Mucha was one of those laid off.  He didn’t let this get him down; he moved back to Moravia and tried his hand at freelance work, focusing on portraiture and decorative painting.

            In 1882 Mucha received his first real commission.  He had travelled to Mikulov in southern Moravia where he was “painting portraits of local society figures” (6), when he was noticed by Count Karl Khuen-Belasi.  The Count commissioned Mucha to paint a scene in Emmahof Castle, his main home.  The Count’s brother, Egon, also commissioned Mucha to paint a scene in his castle, Gandegg.  These early, large scale projects would lay the groundwork for much of Mucha’s work in the future.  The Count also gave Mucha continued financial support, allowing him to “receive formal art training in Munich and Paris” (7).

            From 1885 to 1887, Mucha studied at the Munich Academy of Arts.  While there he became active with the Škréta group, “a community of Central and Eastern European art students living in Munich” (8).  This is a theme that would continue to pop up in Mucha’s life: the importance of the Central and Eastern European countries own history and mythologies.

            While at the Munich Academy of Arts, Mucha continued to do work for publications back in Ivančice, creating illustrations for the magazines Fantaz and Krokodil, run by his brother-in-law and friend.  This is when Mucha’s approach to lettering and calligraphy really begins.  (If you’ve ever seen anything written in an Art Nouveau style, it’s probably going to look like Mucha’s lettering style.)

            Also while still at the Munich Academy of Arts, Mucha’s family contacts secured him a commission in the United States, to create an alterpiece for the Church of St. John of Nepomuk in the Czech community, Pisek, in North Dakota (9).  Mucha decided to portray two of the Czech’s best loved Saints, Saints Cyril and Methodius.

            After completing his two years in Munich, Mucha moved to Paris in the fall of 1887.  Mucha entered the Académie Julian, where he studied under Lefèbvre, Boulanger, and Laurens.  While at the Académie Julian, Mucha was introduced to the Nabis.  The Nabis were a group that “believe[d] that art [stood] on an equal footing with design” and worked “with designers and publishers to produce set designs, wallpaper, textiles, ceramics and stained glass” (10).  This would influence a lot of Mucha’s design sensibilities.

            In 1888, Mucha moved on from the Académie Julian to the Académie Colarossi, but his education there was cut short.  In 1889, the Count decided to stop funding Mucha’s education and so Mucha had to leave the Académie Colarossi.  He stayed in Paris though, getting commissions for illustrations from French and Czech publishers (11).  In 1890, Mucha became a contributor to Le Costume au théâtre et a la Ville, a magazine of theatre costumes.  For this magazine, Mucha created his first drawing of Sarah Bernhardt, showing her as Cleopatra.

            Mucha worked steadily at this point.  In 1891 he worked for Armand Colin, illustrating high quality school books in Paris.  In 1892 he began teaching drawing, eventually being asked to teach at Académie Colarossi, and at Whistler’s Académie Carmen.

            Also in 1892, Mucha exhibited his work for the first time at the Paris Salon at Palais des Champs Elysées.  He won an honorable mention for his piece which was a “selection of works illustrating Xavier Marmier’s Les Contes des Grand-Mères” (12).  In 1893 Mucha purchased his first camera; this allowed him to better compose his works, but also allowed him to explore photography as an art in itself.

            In 1894 Mucha met August Strindberg, who introduced him to occultism and mysticism, themes which would influence both his life and his work.  Also in 1894 Mucha was commissioned by the publisher Lemercier to do a special edition of a supplement to their magazine Le Gaulois.  This commission was to be a feature on Sarah Bernhardt’s Gismonda at the Théâtre de la Renaissance.  At Christmas that year, Gismonda needed a new poster at the last minute.  Mucha volunteered to do the poster within two weeks.  This poster was long and narrow, with “subtle pastel colors and the ‘halo’ effect around the subject’s head” (13).  Mucha’s poster was completely different from all other posters at the time, and it was hugely popular.  Collectors would bribe poster hangers for a copy, or would quickly cut down the newly hung posters.  Sarah Bernhardt was “so satisfied with the success of this first poster that she began a six-year contract with Mucha”, having him design posters, sets, and costumes for her (14).

            In 1896 Mucha began contributing to La Plume, a monthly publication of poems, stories, art reviews, and avant-garde illustrations.  La Plume put on exhibitions of its artists work called Salon des Cents.  Mucha was asked to create the poster for the 20^th Salon.  The exhibitions and the magazine were interested in posters as art, so they took their posters seriously.  At this same time Mucha entered into a contract with Champenois, “one of the most important printers of the period” (15).  Champenois’s posters ranged from affordable ones on cardstock, to expensive ones on satin and vellum.

            In 1896, Mucha moved to a new studio that had large, open windows and a glass ceiling.  His interest in photography grew at this point due to the improved lighting; he also began experimenting with sculpture due to the influence of August Seysses, who worked in the same building as Mucha.

            Mucha continued to work with Champenois, and in 1896 Champenois commission him to do a series of panels based around the four seasons.  Decorative panels were increasingly popular at the time, and Mucha’s art on a decorative panel would be a sure success.  The four season panels were so popular, that Champenois commissioned two more sets based on the seasons in 1897 and 1900.  In 1897, in addition to the decorative panels, Champenois was putting Mucha’s work on whatever it could: “calendars, postcards, theatre programs and menus” (16).  Champenois also licensed Mucha’s work throughout Europe and North America.

            In 1896, Job cigarette papers commissioned Mucha to create a poster for them.  At this time smoking was a male activity and so putting a “sensual woman” on the poster gave “the product a sense of illicit glamour” (17).  The following year Mucha had his first solo exhibition; he showed 107 works at the Galerie de la Bodinière, and the introduction in the exhibition’s program was by Sarah Bernhardt.  Mucha had his second solo exhibition that year at one of the Salon des Cents that was held at the offices of La Plume; this exhibition had 448 pieces.  Over the next two years he had exhibits in Vienna, Prague, Budapest, Munich, Brussels, London, New York, and more.

            Mucha was increasingly popular and was making pretty much everything at this time (in addition to Champenois putting his work on even more).  He was painting, creating posters, advertisements, illustrations for books.  He was beginning to design jewelry (which we will touch on next week), carpets, wallpaper, and theater sets.  He also had a completely new style, “frequently featur[ing] beautiful young women in flowing, vaguely Neoclassical-looking robes, often surrounded by flowers which sometimes formed halos behind their heads” (18).  He also used pastels when most people did not.  This new style was called, simply, The Mucha Style, but became known as Art Nouveau, “new art”.

            Mucha, however, didn’t really want to be associated with Art Nouveau.  The style he’d created was so often copied and was so far from what he was trying to do.  Mucha said that his paintings were “entirely a product of himself and Czech art” and that “art existed only to communicate a spiritual message, and nothing more” (19).  The art he became so known for was his commercial work; he wanted to concentrate on artistic, important works.

            And that’s where we’ll leave it for today.  We’re at roughly the halfway point of Mucha’s life.  He’s become world-known for the new style he created.  His popularity is only growing.  Next week will be the rest of Mucha’s life, the big projects he did and, really, his life’s work, that artistic, important work.  I’ll also talk about what happened to Mucha’s work and popularity after his death.  So.  Till next time.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17 – Mucha Foundation Timeline

18, 19 - Alphonse Mucha

John Haviland and Radial Prisons

Last week, I discussed the history of Eastern State Penitentiary.  I find the Quaker ideas for punishment and penitence really interesting.  These ideas had to be executed properly in order to create the isolation and self-reflection that was so important to the early prison reformers and the Quaker roots of prisons in Pennsylvania.  The man whose design encapsulated everything they wanted was John Haviland, “the most famous and internationally influential prison architect of all time” (1).

Haviland was born in December 1792 in Somerset, England.  We don’t know much about his early life, but he was good at math and art and so was sent to London in 1811 as an apprentice to the architect James Elmes.  By 1815, Haviland left London for St. Petersburg.  He wanted to be an Imperial Engineer.  This did not work out and he left Russia, but not before meeting Sir George von Sonntag.  Von Sonntag had lived in Philadelphia and probably suggested that Haviland head to Pennsylvania.

Haviland arrived in Philadelphia in 1816 “armed with letters of introduction to President Monroe and others, written by von Sonntag and John Quincy Adams, then United States Minister to Russia” (2).  Once in Philadelphia, Haviland opened an architectural drawing school.  He also began to get commissions for churches, public buildings, and homes.  When, in 1821, Philadelphia was looking to build a prison, Haviland submitted a design and won.  This would be Eastern State Penitentiary.  Haviland supervised the construction of Eastern State until it was finished in 1836.

Being the architect of Eastern State Penitentiary made Haviland almost a household name.  He was commissioned to build private and public buildings throughout Philadelphia.  He was also commissioned for the asylum in current-day Portsmouth, Virginia.  Haviland was also working on buildings in Pittsburgh, Trenton (New Jersey), and New York City.  He even had the opportunity to redesign the Western Penitentiary in Pittsburgh that had been started by rival architect, William Strickland.

Haviland supervised the construction of the court and detention center in New York City “which later became known as the ‘Tombs’ because of its heavy Egyptian style – the name persisting even in subsequent structures” (3).  Prisons became Haviland’s specialty.  He designed the state prisons in New Jersey, Rhode Island and Missouri, and the county jail in Trenton, New Jersey.  He also submitted plans for prisons in Washington, DC, Arkansas and Louisiana, but none of these were built.

In 1839, Haviland was a little disillusioned with the United States and offered his services to build prisons in England, France, and Mexico.  But in 1840, when Pennsylvania allowed individual counties to build their own prisons, Haviland was right back at it.  He built the prison in Harrisburg in 1840, Reading in 1846, and Lancaster in 1849.

Haviland died in March 1852 of apoplexy.  In addition to not knowing much about his early life and family, we don’t know much about his later personal life.  We know Haviland married von Sonntag’s sister and that they had one daughter and two sons, but that’s about it.

So that’s Haviland.  Not a whole lot is known about his outside of his building designs.  He was extremely influential though, even if it’s in sort of a roundabout way…

Haviland’s key piece of prison design was in the radial prison layout.  He didn’t come up with this design though.  England’s Suffolk County Jail in Ipswich, designed by William Blackburn, another prison designer, was probably the first radial jail with a central surveillance point.  Also, mental hospitals at this time had radial plans.  In 1814, while Haviland was in London studying architecture, a plan for a radial mental hospital was published.  It’s possible that Haviland saw or heard of both of these radial plans.

At any rate, Haviland took the radial design and brought it to America where it really caught on.  Three of the prisons Haviland worked on influenced other prisons at the time and for years afterwards: the prison at Pittsburgh, which was V shaped; the prison at Trenton, which was a half-radiating plan, with five wings; and Eastern State.  Trenton’s plan included improvements on the Eastern State plan, including “detached exercise yards, cell doors into the corridors and two-storey wings” (4).  This was the most imitated prison design of Haviland’s.

As mentioned in the previous post about Eastern State, the solitary confinement that it had was controversial.  It was really only ever used in Pennsylvania.  The rival system from New York (solitary confinement at night; communal, but silent work during the day) was adopted pretty much everywhere else in the United States.  The New York system also had rectangular cell blocks, rather than the radial plan.  The radial prisons were used in a few places in Michigan, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Indiana, and New Jersey, as well as the United States Disciplinary Barracks in Fort Leavenworth, Kansas built in the 1930s (5).  So, while Haviland’s plan wasn’t really used throughout the United States, it was in bringing the idea to the U.S. that made it popular throughout the rest of the world. 

As was mentioned in the previous post, a lot of countries (including Great Britain, France, Prussia, Russia, and Belgium) sent delegations to the United States to take a look at Eastern State and other prisons.  Alexis de Tocqueville and Charles Dickens both visited Eastern State; de Tocqueville liked what he saw, Dickens did not.  Most of the delegations agreed with de Tocqueville, preferring the Eastern State type prison to the other prisons they saw in the United States.

When Britain began building these type of prisons (while they’d had them before, they hadn’t really caught on nationwide), Haviland submitted designs.  The Model Prison, called Pentonville, was this design.  Pentonville had similar modifications to those of the Trenton prison.  Pentonville was completed in 1842; it became the most copied prison in the world.  Britain built similar prisons throughout its empire, in Egypt, Australia, Malta, Burma, and Canada (6).

Other countries also copied the Pentonville design.  Berlin built theirs in 1844, and by 1910 Germany had over 40 of this design.  Belgium had over 20 modelled on Pentonville, some opting for V or X shapes rather than the multiwinged radial plan.  Spain built over 40 prisons based on Pentonville, beginning in 1859, including the prisons in Madrid and Valencia.  Holland, Switzerland, much of Scandinavia, Finland, Portugal, Austria, and Hungary all built large prisons based on Pentonville (7).

The only large countries that did not build large prisons based on Pentonville were France, Russia, and Italy.  At this time all three countries were in the midst of political unrest and so their governments were not stable enough for large scale construction projects.  All three countries did built small detention centers on the radial plan though.

These Pentonville copies extended all the way to China and Japan.  The first westernizing influences in Japan were through prison reform.  Japan built over thirty-three radial prisons modelled on Pentonville, including full circle radial designs.

Prison reform was a huge topic in much of the world in the late 18^th c. and early 19^th c. and these new prison ideas spread rapidly worldwide.  By the end of the 19^th c. though, there were new prison designs being developed, and few radial prisons were built except for a few in the United States.

So, as I mentioned Haviland was influential, even if he didn’t develop the ideas he’s known for.  He brought radial designs from England to the United States.  The rest of the world was looking to the young United States in all sorts of matters, including prison design.  Haviland’s American prison designs were then copied and brought back to England, where they created the Pentonville system.  Pentonville was then copied throughout Europe and the rest of the world. 

I find this so fascinating.  There’s really nothing new under the sun and Haviland’s path shows us that.  Haviland didn’t invent the radial plan, and it wasn’t truly his American prisons that were copied, but rather, it was all of his ideas together and modified that became the famous prisons worldwide.  So, even if you don’t have a new idea, you might bring it to a new audience or have a new way of implementing it.  That’s really cool to think about.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 - Eastern State Penitentiary-John Haviland

Happy birthday, Inez Milholland!

Happy birthday, Neil Armstrong!

Also, the first electric traffic light was installed today in 1914, in Cleveland, Ohio.

Eastern State Penitentiary

This blog post came from my mom.  We were discussing topics I’d been thinking of writing about and my mom suggested Eastern State Penitentiary; I’d been a bit paralyzed by choice for what to do next and Eastern State seemed perfect.  Our family visited Eastern State in 2010 on our trip to Philadelphia.  I’d never heard of it before.  It’s… such a weird place.  When you are walking up to this huge, imposing building, you definitely get the idea of what the original planners and the architect were trying to do. 

In the late 18^th c. in the United States, most prisons were just large holding pens.  All types of criminals were thrown together: men, women, violent, nonviolent, all together.  If you were put in prison it was also expected that guards would abuse you in some way or another.

In 1787, a group of powerful Philadelphian’s met at Benjamin Franklin’s house.  They were concerned about the conditions of prisons in the U.S. and in Europe.  These men formed the Philadelphia Society for Alleviating the Miseries of Public Prisons (this still exists as the Pennsylvania Prison Society).  This was the first prison reform group in the world.  The penal code in Pennsylvania, Quaker and Enlightenment thought all made Philadelphia into the center of prison reform at this time.  The society’s goal was “to see the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania set the international standard in prison design” and proposed “a radical idea to build a true penitentiary, a prison designed to create genuine regret and penitence in the criminal’s heart” (1).

At this time the main prison in Pennsylvania was the Walnut Street Jail.  It was overcrowded and it cost a lot to transport prisoners in from elsewhere in the state.  The new prison design would abandon corporal punishment and would “move the criminal toward spiritual reflection and change” using Quaker inspired methods of isolation and labor (2).  It took over thirty years for the Society to convince the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania of their idea.  Because of the cost of transporting prisoners, two prisons were planned, Western Penitentiary near Pittsburgh, and Eastern State Penitentiary at Philadelphia.  The designer of Eastern State was British-born John Haviland; he was paid $100 for his design.  Eastern State would cost $780,000 to build and took 11 acres of land.

Haviland’s idea had a central surveillance area with seven cellblocks radiating out from there, so guards could see the entire prison from the middle.  Each prisoner would be in their own cell which was heated, had running water, a flushing toilet and a skylight (at this time the White House didn’t even have running water).  Each cell also had its own individual exercise area outside, surrounded by a ten-foot high wall.  The idea was for the prisoner to have everything they needed right in their cell, “the light from heaven [the skylight], the word of God (the Bible) and honest work … to lead to penitence” (3).

Prisoners wore hoods whenever they were out of their cells so they would be penitent (hence penitentiary).  The new prison reformers believed that silence would allow the prisoners to concentrate on their behavior and the horror of their crimes.  Guards even wore felt coverings on their shoes to reduce noise.  Reformation of criminals was the key in the new prisons and isolation was to “give him ample opportunity to ponder his mistakes and make his peace with God.  If this were not effective, once the man was released the memory of this complete and awful isolation would be sufficiently terrifying to deter further crime” (4).

Outsiders knew the prison kept criminals in isolation; this was supposed to be a deterrent for criminals.  If that was not enough, the building itself was hopefully imposing enough to deter them.  While the interior was churchlike with “30-foot, barrel vaulted hallways, tall arched windows,” a “forced monastery, a machine for reform” (5), the exterior of the prison was Gothic: strong, punishing, and intimidating.

The Eastern Penitentiary Act of 1821 allowed for the prison to be built, initially to house 250 prisoners, but additions were almost immediately added to double capacity.  The first prisoner was admitted on October 25, 1829.  The first female prisoners were admitted in 1831.

Throughout the 1830s and 1840s tourists would visit the prison.  By 1858, over 10,000 tourists visited in a year (the most until the prison opened for tours in 1994).  European countries sent delegations to visit the prison and report back.  The “distinctive geometric form and … regimen of isolation became a symbol of progressive, modern principles” (6).  Over the rest of the 19^th c. over 300 prisons across the world were based on the radial plan.  Alexis de Tocqueville and Gustave de Beaumont reported back to the French government in 1831, praising Eastern State.  Charles Dickens, however, in an 1842 visit did not like the system of isolation in the prison; he wrote a chapter in his travel journal “American Notes for General Circulation” just on his thoughts about Eastern State.

Dickens was not the only detractor.  A debate grew over whether or not the isolation and penitence was effective.  A rival prison system grew out of this debate.  New York State’s Auburn System consisted of isolation only at night, communal work taking place during the day.  Eventually these criticisms won out and the Eastern State system was abandoned by 1913 (though some prisons based on it were still built until just after World War II).

Because of the criticisms, new additions and policies at Eastern State were a compromise.  New additions that were built in the 1870s and 1890s looked similar but had communal exercise yards, though silence was still mandatory.  The hoods the inmates had to wear when out of their cells now had eyeholes.  Solitary cells slowly went away.  Other new additions still had halls that looked like the original ones, with catwalks and skylights, but the cells were different.  These had smaller cells (since the prisoners weren’t spending all their time in them) and had normal windows instead of skylights.  Underground, windowless cells were built, but this solitary confinement was a punishment instead of the norm.

By 1905, the prisoners were doing their work communally, and by 1909 the inmates were publishing their own newspaper.  In 1924 the prison had its first group dining halls.  In August 1924, newspapers reported that the governor donated his own dog as a morale booster, though another story says Pep “The Cat-Murdering Dog” had murdered the governor’s wife’s cat.

For the prison’s centennial in 1929, the administration created a movie focusing on the prisons modernizations rather than the history of the facility.  The movie showed the “new factory-style weaving shops; the commercial-grade bakery and kitchens, staffed by dozens of inmates twenty-four hours a day; and the new guard towers with searchlights and sirens”; cells housed two or three men, and “former exercise yards, roofed over, their party walls removed” became workshops and dining halls (7).

Also in 1929, the prison’s most famous resident moved in.  Al Capone served his first sentence at Eastern State, eight months for carrying a concealed weapon.  His cell was stocked with a rug, oil paintings, and other antiques.  You can still see his cell on display.

In 1956 the last large addition was made to Eastern State: death row, cellblock fifteen.  This was completely different from the rest of the facility.  Everything in cellblock fifteen was electronic, and guards and inmates were almost never in contact.

Over the years there had been occasional riots at Eastern State.  The prison’s largest riot took place in 1961.  Discussions began about closing Eastern State.  Eastern State Penitentiary closed in 1971 after 142 years in use.  Any prisoners that were still at the facility were moved elsewhere in the state.

So, what to do with this property?  Philadelphia had certified the prison as a history property in 1958, and the federal government made it a National Historic Landmark in 1965, but that didn’t really mean much once it was empty.  In 1974 the mayor of Philadelphia suggested demolishing the prison and building a criminal justice center.  In 1980, Philadelphia paid Pennsylvania about $400,000 for the property, with hopes of developing it.  By 1988 though, nothing had been done and the mayor wanted to develop the area.  The Eastern State Penitentiary Task Force stopped this plan though.

In 1991 funding helped to preserve and stabilize the building, and that year the first Halloween fundraiser was held.  The Halloween fundraiser continues to this day, “generat[ing] most of the money used to maintain the … prison and operate day and nighttime tours throughout the years” (8).  In 2012 the Halloween event raised money for “63 percent of … operating costs for the entire year” (9).

The Pennsylvania Prison Society finally was able to open the building for guided tours in 1994, with over 10,000 guests that first year, and in 1998 the Eastern State Penitentiary Historic Site, Inc. was formed to run tours and continue preservation.  In 1996 the World Monument Fund named Eastern State Penitentiary on its list of 100 “most important endangered landmarks in the world” (10).  By 2003 the prison had audio tours available and the building had been stabilized enough that guests no longer had to wear hardhats.  By 2007 the prison was operating seven days a week, twelve months a year.  In 2010 new tours and art installations were added to the facility (when we were there the art installation was a bunch of cats, based on the stray cats that used to live on the property), and restoration on the cellblocks continues.

So that’s the history of Eastern State Penitentiary.  I mentioned at the beginning that I visited in 2010.  I really recommend going.  Like I said it’s a bit weird feeling being there, and the building is so imposing, but it’s just so cool at the same time.  It’s also just such an important building.  I touched briefly on the impact of Eastern State on prisons worldwide.  Next time I’m going to talk about that more, and why that’s maybe not entirely true, as well as talking about the architect, John Haviland.  Till next time.

1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7 - Eastern State Penitentiary-General Overview
4 - Eastern State Penitentiary-John Haviland
8, 9 - Laurel Dalrymple, "At An Abandoned Philadelphia Prison, All Hell Breaks Loose," NPR, October 24, 2013.
10 - Eastern State Penitentiary-Timeline

Happy birthday, Myrna Loy!