You’re walking across a busy intersection in Philadelphia or maybe New York City. You look down. Right there, embedded in the crumbly asphalt, is a license-plate-sized linoleum plaque. It’s colorful, slightly weathered, and carries a message that sounds like the fever dream of a sci-fi novelist: TOYNBEE IDEA IN MOVIE 2001 RESURRECT THE DEAD ON PLANET JUPITER.
If you’ve seen one, you know the feeling. It’s eerie. It’s confusing. Most people just walk over them without a second thought, but for a certain subculture of urban explorers and amateur sleuths, resurrect the dead Toynbee tiles represent one of the most persistent and fascinating mysteries of the last forty years. These aren't just pieces of street art. They are a manifesto glued to the ground, a cry into the void from a man who believed—sincerely or not—that the keys to eternal life were hidden in the works of a British historian and a Stanley Kubrick film.
The story isn't just about the tiles themselves. It's about a decades-long hunt for a phantom.
The Toynbee Idea: Why Jupiter?
Why would anyone want to resurrect the dead on Jupiter? To understand the tiles, you have to look at the name "Toynbee." This refers to Arnold J. Toynbee, a famous British historian who wrote A Study of History. Toynbee’s work focused on the rise and fall of civilizations. He suggested that societies thrive when they meet challenges with creative responses. Somehow, the creator of the tiles mashed this historical philosophy together with the ending of 2001: A Space Odyssey. In the movie, a character is reborn as a "Star Child" near Jupiter.
The logic—if you can call it that—is that humanity needs to colonize Jupiter to bring everyone back to life. It’s a wild, sprawling theory. It’s also intensely lonely. Imagine being so convinced of this idea that you spend years cutting linoleum, layering it with tar paper, and dropping it onto hot city streets in the middle of the night.
The tiles started appearing in the 1980s. They spread. They didn't just stay in Philly. They popped up in South America, Chicago, and Boston. Some were huge, accompanied by long "side letters" that ranted against the news media, the Mafia, and the Jews. The creator seemed to believe there was a massive conspiracy to suppress his "Toynbee Idea." It’s classic outsider art—obsessive, unpolished, and deeply sincere.
How the Tiles Were Actually Made
For years, nobody knew how these things were installed without the person getting arrested. It turns out the method was actually pretty brilliant. The "tiler" would create a sandwich of linoleum, asphalt sealer, and tar paper. He’d wrap the whole thing in a protective layer of paper.
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Then came the delivery.
He wouldn't even have to get out of his car. Legend has it (and evidence supports) that he likely cut a hole in the floorboards of his vehicle. He’d drive over a specific spot, drop the tile, and let the heat and pressure of passing traffic do the work. The sun would bake the asphalt sealer, and the weight of thousands of cars would press the linoleum into the street. Eventually, the top layer of paper would wear away, revealing the message: resurrect the dead Toynbee tiles in all their cryptic glory.
It’s an incredible bit of low-tech engineering. While most street artists use spray paint that fades or gets buffed, these tiles actually become part of the road. They are literally fused with the infrastructure of the city.
The Hunt for Severino "Sevy" Verna
If you want to dive deep into this, you have to watch the 2011 documentary Resurrect Dead: The Mystery of the Toynbee Tiles. Director Jon Foy and researcher Justin Duerr spent years tracking the source. They didn't just want to find the "what"; they wanted the "who."
The trail eventually led to a house in South Philadelphia.
The primary suspect is a man named Severino "Sevy" Verna. He also went by the alias James Morasco. While there isn't a "smoking gun" confession, the evidence is overwhelming. Verna lived in a house that matched the descriptions. He had a car with the passenger seat removed. People reported hearing a shortwave radio broadcast in the Philly area that repeated the Toynbee message over and over. Verna was a ham radio enthusiast.
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But here’s the thing: Verna never talked. He never took credit. He stayed a ghost.
Honestly, that makes it better. In an era where every artist has an Instagram and every "mystery" is a viral marketing campaign, the Toynbee tiles remain refreshingly pure. They weren't meant to sell you anything. They were just a message from a man who wanted to fix the problem of death by sending everyone to a gas giant.
The New Generation of Copycats
Most of the original tiles are gone now. Road construction and "milling and paving" are the natural enemies of the Toynbee Idea. You can still find some in Philly if you know where to look, but many are fading into gray ghosts.
However, the idea didn't die.
A new wave of tilers has emerged. These "copycats" (though some prefer the term "tribute artists") have kept the tradition alive. You’ll find newer, brighter tiles in places like Portland or even London. Some of these follow the original script exactly. Others add their own flair.
One of the most famous offshoots is the "House of Hades" tiles. They look similar but often carry more aggressive or political messages. Some people find them annoying, seeing them as a dilution of the original mystery. Others see it as a beautiful continuation of a weird, urban folklore. It's essentially an open-source religion at this point.
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Why the Toynbee Tiles Still Haunt Us
There is something deeply human about these things. We live in cities designed for efficiency. Everything is mapped. Everything is monitored. Then, you look down and see a message about resurrecting the dead on a planet millions of miles away. It breaks the "simulation." It reminds you that the person standing next to you at the crosswalk might have a completely different reality happening inside their head.
The tiles are a reminder of the "Great Mystery." We don't know why we're here. We don't know what happens when we die. Most of us just ignore those questions because they're too big. The Toynbee tiler didn't ignore them. He leaned in. He leaned in so hard he became a legend.
Is it mental illness? Probably. But it's also art. It's a protest against the finality of life.
How to Find and Preserve the Tiles
If you’re interested in seeing them for yourself, you have to act fast. Cities don't care about street art when it's time to fix a pothole.
- Look at old intersections: Older asphalt is more likely to hold original tiles. New, smooth pavement is a bad sign.
- Check the crosswalks: Most tiles were dropped right where pedestrians walk. This ensured they’d be seen.
- Use the "Toynbee Map": There are several crowdsourced maps online (though many are outdated) that track sightings.
- Don't touch them: These things are fragile. If you find one, take a photo, record the GPS coordinates, and leave it be.
The best way to "save" a tile is to document it. Websites like Steve Weinik’s photography archive have preserved images of tiles that have long since been paved over. Without this digital record, the Toynbee Idea would have truly disappeared.
Actionable Next Steps
If the mystery of the resurrect the dead Toynbee tiles has grabbed you, don't just stop at reading an article.
- Watch the Documentary: Start with Resurrect Dead: The Mystery of the Toynbee Tiles (2011). It is the definitive investigation and plays like a noir thriller.
- Go for a "Tile Walk": If you’re in Philadelphia, New York, or Baltimore, spend an afternoon looking down. Start at 13th and Market in Philly—it’s the epicenter.
- Contribute to the Archive: If you spot a tile that isn't on a major map, take a high-res photo and upload it to urban exploration forums or Reddit's /r/ToynbeeTiles.
- Study the Source: Read a summary of Arnold Toynbee’s A Study of History. You don't have to read all twelve volumes, but understanding his "Challenge and Response" theory gives the tiles a whole new layer of meaning.
The mystery might be "solved" in terms of a name, but the why remains as elusive as ever. And maybe that's the point. The Toynbee Idea survives because it’s an unanswered question written in the ground beneath our feet.