There is something truly unsettling about places where history failed.

Places where people came thinking that they could stop catastrophe,

but they couldn't. Standing behind me is the conference house in Staten Island, New York.

And in 1776, Benjamin Franklin and John Adams came here in hopes that they could stop the American Revolution before

it began. They couldn't. And depending on who you ask, something about that failure never fully

recovered here. Today I'm spending the day and check it out, walk around, see what I feel. I didn't bring any of my equipment,

but tonight I will. And once the sun goes down, let's see what I see, see of all the stories.

Actually, all these campfire tales that I tell on a regular basis let's see what they bring tonight

stick with me folks

you know September 11th.

Now, when you hear that date, your mind probably goes to one specific tragic morning in 2001.

I know mine surely does, and this New Yorker will never forget it.

But for the three men sitting in a drafty fieldstone manner on the southern tip of Staten Island,

September 11th, 1776, was supposed to be the day the world stopped bleeding.

Imagine this. You've got Benjamin Franklin, the elder statesman, probably adjusting the spectacles,

and John Adams, who is already losing his patience. They've just been rowed across a narrow kill from New Jersey into enemy territory.

They are surrounded by thousands of British redcoats and elite mercenaries.

They walk into this house, the manor of Bentley, and they're greeted by Admiral Lord Richard

Howe.

Howe wants a deal.

He offers them a peaceful cessation of hostilities.

Basically, guys, let's just rip up that silly declaration of independence or whatever you call

...