The Chalk Outline That Is Ben Franklin's House

Franklin Court is a wonderful piece of history sitting right smack dab in the middle of the block that is bordered by Market Street to the North, Chestnut to the South, Third Street to the East and Fourth to the West.

The brick archway that leads to Market Street is the same that Benjamin Franklin himself walked through. Before you step on the cobblestone under the archway look to your left and you see the First Post Office in the United States founded by Franklin. Look to right and there is "Benjamin Franklin Printing," inside is his original printing press and other artifacts.

The cobblestone leads you to a magnificent courtyard and in the center of all this historical wonderment is a mystery. The house where Benjamin Franklin lived most of his adult life, the house where he pondered both the magic of electricity and the possibility of American sovereignty, is gone.

In its place is what amounts to a stick figure drawing of the space the house once took up. It is a major disappointment.

What happened to Ben’s house? His grandchildren tore it down and sold the land in 1812. The area around the Franklin home was all very commercial and historians theorize that the land was becoming more valuable than the house. Talk about unappreciative little brats! Makes you worry a little about your own will doesn’t it?

“It was a sign of the times,” according to Coxey Toogood, an historian working for the National Park Service at Independence Mall and owner of the best name I had ever heard. “America hadn’t begun to look backwards yet. It was still a forward looking country.”

It wasn’t until 1948 that Congress created Independence National Park and included Franklin Court. “There was much debate about reconstructing the house,” according to Coxey.

But there was a big problem. No one knew exactly what then house looked like. “There are no images, paintings or pictures of the house,” according to Steve Setarski of the National Park Service.

In the 1760’s Franklin was doing diplomatic work in England while his wife Deborah was overseeing construction of the house. The two sent detailed notes back and forth to each other about the design of the house. Benjamin Franklin even drew pictures of what he wanted the rooms to look like and sent them to Deborah.

Unfortunately, for all his brilliance, Ben wasn’t much of an artist. “The drawings were pretty rudimentary,” and Steve was being kind. “There just wasn’t enough to go on.”

Ironically, the house that Ben Franklin stayed at in London on Craven Street is still standing and is a big tourist historical tourist attraction. They call it “The Benjamin Franklin House” and advertise it as “the world’s only remaining Franklin home.” Ouch!

And so the original basement was dug out and Plexiglas was placed over it so visitors could look down into all that is left of Ben Franklin’s home – a hole in the ground. It was a tad anticlimactic for tourists. “Visitors are surprised and disappointed that the house isn’t there,” admits Setarski.

The house had one last shot at rising again. In the years leading up to America’s Bicentennial celebration, there was a new push to reconstruct history in the city. The Olde City Tavern, where the Founding Fathers would let their powdered wigs down, was reconstructed. The birth of a nation and democracy were debated over a pint in the Olde City Tavern on Second Street and Chestnut. Also, the boarding house owned by the well know builder Jacob Graf was reconstructed. It was there that Thomas Jefferson rented a room and wrote the Declaration of Independence. The Graf house sat on the corner of 7th and Market right across the street from the Philadelphia stables. While writing the most important document in American History, Jefferson would constantly complain about the horseflies and the smell coming through the window. The original house was torn down in 1883. Photographs of the site allowed the National Park Service to feel confident in reconstruction. The building is now called “The Declaration House.”

If The National Park Service went to all that effort to bring back the Olde City Tavern and the Declaration House, what about Franklin’s house? “There was long and careful study and a differing of opinions on whether it could be replicated,” according to Coxey Toogood. “The staff really wanted it reconstructed.” But in the end the historians argued again that there was not enough to go on. “There was just not enough evidence,” says Coxey with a disappointing sigh. “All possible designs were far too conjectural.”

And Steve Setarski admitted that there was a bit of fear that they would look foolish. “What if a painting surfaced years later of Franklin’s house and it proved what we built was wrong? We just couldn’t risk that kind of embarrassment.”

Still everyone agreed that a hole in the ground just wasn’t enough. So the world famous architect Robert Venturi was commissioned to construct what is called “a ghost structure.” It gives people the general idea of how big and wide a structure was without trying to reconstruct it. Knowing that Franklin’s house was three stories tall and took up 33 square feet of land. Venturi built a skeleton of a house with white steel beams that is 54 feet high.

It looks like a homicide chalk outline of the house that was murdered by Franklin’s grandchildren.

“It is true that some visitors are still disappointed,” admits Setarski. “But the structure itself is considered the design and architectural standard for all ghost structures. We get architects and artists from around the world to study and photograph it.” And the Steve repeated the phrase that is said at least once about every piece of modern art, “Some people just don’t get it.”

Include me in the group who don’t get it.

And now I write this disappointing memo to the other people in my group:

Dear People Who Don’t Get It,
In regards to the Ghost Structure that is masquerading as Ben Franklin’s
house: Nothing is going to change anytime soon. – Larry

According to Steve Setarski, the policy of the National Park Service changed after the nation’s bicentennial. It no longer believes in the reconstruction of history. “The current feeling is that we do not do reconstruction because it is misleading.”

And so the stick figure, the homicide outline, that sits above the hole in the ground will have to suffice as an important historic site. The National Park Service calls it architectural art. I call it a constant reminder that the house was torn down. But maybe that is also the point. Maybe the tearing down of the structure is our forever reminder that we must preserve and protect our important buildings and homes because one day they too will be history.

Or maybe we can just hope that the philosophy of the National Park Service changes again and one day we can reconstruct the house. In the meantime, start looking at estate sales, in your attic and on EBay for a painting of Ben Franklin’s house. We get that and we solve a mystery that may finally exorcise the ghost of Franklin Court.

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