Linthicum was a farmer and logger with deep family roots on the Shore. He was a son of Jeremiah Linthicum, grandson of J. Zachariah Linthicum and great-grandson of Capt. R. Richard Linthicum, born 24 years before the Declaration of Independence.
In the late 1960s, the 17-acre property was sold. And in 1992, the federal government bought it as part of the nearby Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge. Two years ago, the state acquired the parcel in a land swap with the federal government.
The house sits off Route 335 in Church Creek, 10 miles from Cambridge. Architects call it an "expanded foursquare," a bigger version of a boxy style popular around the country.
From the road, the house has a vaguely spooky aura. Maybe it's that the siding has turned dark and moldy-looking, or that strands of yellow "caution" tape flutter on the wraparound porch. Or maybe it's just the knowledge that this house has been uninhabited for years.
Loran and McCoy led the way through the back door into the kitchen. An old clothes washer remains. So does an ancient fridge with a Servel Electrolux label. Adding to the eeriness, empty glass jars line the pantry shelves, as if someone went off to work one day and never returned.
The kitchen opens to the living room, where that rabbit breathed its last. Not far from the wood stove is a china hutch, along with ratty couches and glass display cases left by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Those cases are likely to be removed, but otherwise the house is available "as is."
"Despite its outward appearance," Loran said admiringly, "it's in good shape."
It does feel sturdy, a sense reinforced by climbing either of two staircases. The second floor is expansive, with four bedrooms and big closets, but, alas, one bathroom. Most rooms are dark because the state boarded up the windows. (In a nod to aesthetics, crews painted the boards to resemble windows.)
In the faint light, beds are visible in some rooms, as is a gas lamp fixture in a hallway.
The third floor is brighter, where the windows have been left uncovered. One pane has shattered, which explains the bird's nest on a wall. Wasps called mud daubers have been squatting in their mud abodes.
In one room, there's a straw mattress. In another, there's a yellowed issue of The Sun from Feb. 16, 1947. Everywhere, on all levels of the house, bits of plaster and broken glass crumple underfoot. And yet, you can still bang out a haunting note or two on the upright piano in the formal parlor.
One way or another, the Linthicum House has to go soon. The state plans to put the Tubman park visitor center in its place. The Linthicum tract was chosen because it's near two places Tubman reportedly lived. And the vista looks much as it did, perhaps, 150 years ago when she guided fleeing slaves north through the woods and swamps.
Only the house seems out of place, though not for much longer.
For more information, call Jordan Loran at 410-260-8907 , or visit www.dnr.maryland.gov/ec/download/Linthicum_House_RFP.pdf
