A Great Experiment, Indeed

Last night I drove down to the Philadelphia History Museum to attend the pilot screening of Philadelphia: The Great Experiment. Both the museum and documentary are works-in-progress. The former, which used to be known as the Atwater-Kent, is in the middle of massive renovations and preparing for a spring 2011 relaunch. Likewise, the pilot of Great Experiment is a 30-minute glimpse at what will (hopefully) become a seven hour mini-series telling the story of Philadelphia -- America's ultimate "R&D lab," in the words of executive producer Sam Katz.

City Hall Rises: a still from Philadelphia: The Great Experiment.

Katz told the packed house that he was inspired to start the project after looking for a good, multi-part documentary about Philly... and coming up empty. New York had one (thanks to Ric Burns); Chicago had one, as well as Vegas. Why not Philly? (Once again, the best reason for any creative project: when you find yourself reaching for a book or film that doesn't exist yet.)

After watching those 30 tantalizing minutes, I want to see the whole thing. I want to see the whole thing right now.


The pilot covers a lot of ground: eleven years of city history, from Lincoln's funeral procession crawling through the streets of Philadelphia (1865) to the opening of the Centennial Exposition (1876). But it's the characters that bring the period to vivid life, from party bosses to early civil rights pioneers. Most striking: the stories of Octavius V. Catto and Caroline Le Count, two African-American school teachers. Nearly 90 years before Rosa Parks, Le Count boarded a streetcar on Lombard Street and refused to leave. The operator tried to force Le Count off the vehicle; she stayed put. So instead, the operator unhitched the horses and instructed the other passengers to catch another car. Le Count sat alone in the abdandoned car...  for the next 24 hours. Le Count and Octavius Catto would go on to fight for the desegregation of streetcars, a fight that is brilliantly detailed in Great Experiment. Unfortunately, Catto would pay the ultimate price. On Election Day 1871, the 31-year-old schoolteacher was shot on the corner of 9th and South by rioters trying to keep African-Americans from the polls.

Stories like these -- forgotten by far too many -- are just one of the reasons we need this mini-series.

Katz's company, History Making Productions, has a two-minute sample of the series on their website, as well as five cool "webisodes" on topics such as baseball, volunteer firefighting and everybody's old favorite: the Sanitary Fair of 1864. (Which is actually pretty damn fascinating.) They're also looking to host other screenings of the pilot, so if you're in a position to do so, drop 'em a line. And of course, they're always looking for donations to complete the project.

So if you happen to have a few spare million, I suggest you write Mr. Katz a check immediately. Because I want to see the whole thing. Right now.