JUNCTION, Ill. -- When George Sisk heard steps on his driveway early one morning, he did what he usually does when strangers ignore the No Trespassing signs leading to his house and the gate at the end of his driveway.

"I took my pistol and shot at them," said Sisk, "just over their heads." The interlopers tumbled into their truck and took off.

Sisk says he's tired of chasing trespassers and vandals away from his 165-year-old hilltop home in rural Gallatin County in Southern Illinois, which he doesn't even own anymore. In 2001, the state paid more than $700,000 in the hopes that someday tourists would visit the Greek Revival estate once owned by 19th-century salt baron and reputed slave trader John Crenshaw.

But the state hasn't appropriated a nickel more to research or renovate the property in the southeastern corner of the state, and the 63-year-old Sisk says he will soon move out, leaving the house and its history unprotected.

"I want to get on with my life, but someone needs to be here 24 hours a day," Sisk said as he stood on the house's sweeping verandah, overlooking soybean fields and the tree line of the Shawnee National Forest. It's on the National Register of Historic Places for its illustration of Greek Revival architecture, and contains some of the 19th-century furniture the Crenshaws owned.

Sisk's grandfather bought the 5,000-square-foot home and surrounding property in 1913 to accommodate his big family. By 1926, they were leading tour groups over its creaky floors -- for a nickel at first, $5 later.

They related the stories they had heard over the years from Crenshaw's elderly children, their own ancestors who had known the Crenshaws and nearly everyone in Gallatin County.

Many of the stories accuse Crenshaw of locking free blacks in his attic before selling them to slave owners across the Ohio River in Kentucky.

Attic largely untouched

Sisk says the attic, divided into 12 small rooms off a central hallway, is largely untouched from Crenshaw's day.

The original horsehair plaster crumbles over the narrow wooden planks of what Sisk says are its original walls. The rooms are barely big enough for a couple of wooden shelves that Sisk says were used as bunks. Their edges feel as smooth and worn as the bannister leading down the steep stairs.

"Not to be spooky, but you can feel a presence there," said Sen. Donne Trotter, D-Chicago.

Trotter, a Cairo native, was contacted by the Sisks about pushing the state to purchase the home, a pitch the family had been making since the 1940s. Over the years, officials had turned them down, in part because the historical claims hadn't been proven, according to a report from the Illinois Historic Preservation Agency.

But the family persuaded Trotter and other lawmakers after getting help from local reporter and amateur historian Jon Musgrave, who researched the Crenshaw history. Court documents, old letters and other evidence Musgrave unearthed supported the stories about Crenshaw's involvement in the slave trade, although nothing specific showed that he kept blacks confined in his home, Trotter said.

"We thought the IHPA could further look into it and sort out what happened," he said.

But legislators never appropriated money for anything other than the $705,000 purchase price -- nothing for the historical study or the staff or the renovations that are needed before the house can accommodate the public, said David Blanchette, a spokesman for the state preservation agency.

While the agency awaits more money -- and with a $5 billion deficit, it could be a long time coming -- officials count on Sisk to serve as de facto caretaker and security guard, Blanchette said.

Sisk believes the agency is stalling because officials really don't trust the history of the home.

"They could find the money if they wanted to," he said.