It was a postcard-perfect fall day in Philadelphia — the trees wore halos of bright yellow and crimson; families strolled along red-brick sidewalks soaking up the crisp, sunny weather; stoops sported cornucopias of pumpkins, gourds and mums. But I hadn’t traveled to Philly to appreciate its autumnal charms — I came to have the s**t scared out of me.
I was touring one of the country’s biggest — and most frightening — Halloween haunted houses, “Terror Behind the Walls,” inside a giant ruin of a prison that itself doesn’t lack for creepiness. In fact, the Eastern State Penitentiary, built in 1829 and abandoned in 1971, even struck fear in the hearts of professional paranormalists like Jason Hawes, of Syfy’s “Ghost Hunters.”
“Eastern is a really weird building,” says Hawes, recalling an episode they filmed there in 2004. “We weren’t there for the Halloween thing, but there’s so much paranormal activity there even in its normal state — shadows, thermal energy, things going in and out of cells. We saw a black mass moving, heads. There’s a very fair chance that something paranormal will happen when you’re there.”
Um, great, so, in addition to the fake ghosts and ghouls that populate the haunted house part of the tour, I’ll also need to contend with the real thing? (Hawes’ advice: “Be prepared. And do not turn and run.”)
Who knew what I would do if I encountered an actual phantom, but I certainly wasn’t going to go it alone. I enlisted two friends — horror fanatics with strong stomachs and a penchant for the gory “Saw” and “Hostel” franchises — to join me for the After Dark VIP Tour. Lasting about 2 hours, it starts with a historic tour of the prison, before moving on to the actual “haunted house” portion of the evening.
Now, if you think “guided historic tour” sounds dull, then you don’t know Eastern State. The prison is immense, covering 11 acres; its exterior resembles a gloomy gothic castle, all dark stone and turrets; and inside, there are 14 long, dark, chilly cellblocks with hundreds of tiny, nearly windowless cells grimly stacked atop each other.
After signing a waiver promising we won’t sue if we trip, fall or die of fright, our small group heads into the first pitch-black cellblock armed only with small flashlights. Our guide regales us with tales of the horrid prisoner conditions — solitary confinement 23 hours a day with just 1 hour of exercise (often in an empty cell next door), little sunlight, insufficient air circulation (causing the spread of diseases like TB), rudimentary plumbing that often overflowed, punishments that included iron gags and water torture.
It is one thing to hear about it, quite another to be in the actual place where it all went down. We shine our flashlights around the cellblocks, taking in the crumbling plaster and peeling paint on the walls, the rusty chairs, dilapidated bed frames, cracked toilets and sliver of a window in the cramped cells. It’s like the best horror-movie set ever — except it’s all real.
“We haven’t touched anything here, except to stabilize parts of the structure,” explains our guide as we sidestepped puddles on the floors from an earlier rainstorm. “It’s exactly as it was when it closed.”
We shuffled past the cell of one of Eastern’s most famous inhabitants, Al Capone, who spent 8 months here in 1929; the spacious room, decked out with antiques, a red bedspread, fancy oil paintings and fringed lamps, stood in stark contrast to the bleakness of the adjoining cells.
But even those seemed cushy compared to “Klondike,” a k a “the hole,” where prisoners were sent when they misbehaved. Located beneath Cellblock 14, these damp basement cells literally received no light: There were no windows and the lights were never turned on. (To demonstrate, our guide switched off the overhead, plunging the group into total darkness.)
Our final stop — and definitely the eeriest — was the Operating Room in Cellblock 3. A huge surgical light hangs from the middle of the vaulted ceiling; the room is empty save for a rust-covered metal chair in the corner and a few hospital-green tiles clinging to a peeling wall.
One’s mind conjures all sorts of gruesome experiments taking place here, though our guide informs us it was mostly standard stuff like tonsillectomies and TB treatment. (Any disease doctors couldn’t identify, she tells us, was blamed on “overmasturbation.” Eww.)
Leaving us with that fun fact, our guide drops us at the actual Halloween haunted house, divided into six distinct attractions — The Gauntlet, Lockdown, Night Watch, Infirmary, Detritus and The Experiment — that place throughout the cellblocks. I don’t want to give too much away — after all, you want to be frightened don’t you? — but expect lots of live zombies and ghouls, things leaping out and grabbing at you, killer light and sound effects, trippy 3-D illusions. Yes, it’s crowded, chaotic, loud; yes, you will scream; and yes, most importantly, it’s damn scary.
Even scarier? The long lines. So, be sure to order VIP passes online if you go on Halloween or on the weekend, which start at $69, or a Quick Pass Upgrade, which adds $10 to the regular admission fee. “Terror Behind the Walls” continues through Nov. 3, with a special Nov. 10 tour, as well. Historic Eastern State Penitentiary tours, $12, run throughout the year. For tickets to all, visit http://www.easternstate.org.