Nestled in a wooded lot and shrouded in foliage, this intriguing property in Georgia has quite the tale to tell. Captured by Leland Kent of Abandoned Southeast, the early 20th-century property changed hands multiple times before being purchased by a certain Mr John McCown in 1967. Revered and reviled in equal measures, it was McCown who helped shape the history of the region, making the house the landmark it is today. Step inside and uncover its tumultuous history for yourself...

Left to languish, it's clear from the derelict façade that the property has suffered decades of neglect. The once-imposing central turret has begun to crumble and several panes of glass are missing from the windows. Mother Nature has taken back the structure, with vegetation creeping into the ground floor and foliage clinging to the porch roof.

Love this? Step inside the breathtaking abandoned billionaire's house in Georgia

Inside, the story is much the same: parts of the ceiling are beginning to collapse and the walls are clad in a creeping layer of black mould. Nevertheless, the house retains more than a hint of its former grandeur – the elegant tongue-and-groove panelling is remarkably well preserved, whilst the intricate parquet ceiling attests to the wealth of its previous occupants.

Born in South Carolina in 1934 and raised in Harlem, John McCown was a somewhat polarising character. By the time he bought the property in 1967, he was already a key figure in the black civil rights movement, having led the first-ever civil rights demonstration in Colorado Springs, Colorado, and later worked with the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE).

Inside his former home, the faded décor in the living room gives us an insight into McCown’s tastes. The blue and red paisley wallpaper would be a bold choice today, though in the ‘70s it was undoubtedly à la mode. The fireplace has been bricked up, but the mantel still retains all its original glory, lacquered to a glossy sheen and embellished with haut-relief carvings and a bevelled glass mirror.

While the wallpaper is peeling away to reveal exposed wood boards, the coffered ceiling has fared remarkably well. McCown moved into the property at the age of 33, when he upped sticks to Hancock County to assist with the registration of black voters, taking on the role of executive director of the Georgia Council on Human Relations. With around half of its black population living below the poverty line, it was one of the poorest regions in the United States at the time.

Moving upstairs, debris litters the treads and damp is visible across the walls – a far cry from its heyday grandeur. In the early 1970s, McCown founded the Eastern Central Committee for Opportunity (ECCO), which sought to transform the livelihoods of black people living in Hancock County. Within a few years, the committee had already received millions of dollars in private and federal aid, while with McCown's help, Hancock County became the sole region in Georgia to elect a black-majority board of county commissioners.

Adorned with ornate features, the abandoned house still reflects McCown’s position of wealth. Over the years, the campaigner allegedly acquired many more properties and hundreds of acres of land. With its intricately carved balusters and newels, this white-painted staircase is a standout architectural feature that has weathered the years remarkably well.

Love this? Tour the abandoned Money Pit Mansion, too expensive to restore

On the upstairs landing, several open doorways lead off to the property’s bedrooms. Light filters in through a heavy, partially closed curtain, casting eerie shadows on the dusty floorboards. On one side of the room, McCown opted for a dainty floral print with a contrasting navy-blue border; on the other he chose an altogether more contemporary wallpaper with graphic pastel stripes.

It’s unclear if this room once belonged to the man himself as very few personal effects remain. A chest of drawers is angled in front of a window, accompanied by a metal chair with leather upholstery and a bunch of red flowers. Fragments of broken china are dotted across the floor and a large strip of wallpaper lies crumpled in a dejected heap.

In another room, the debris has been cleared away to leave a vacant space furnished with a lone chair. The walls are lined with wood-effect paper – a massive trend in the 1970s. Sun streams in through the gauzy white curtains, casting a golden glow around the space. It’s possible to get a glimpse of what the room would have looked like on a bright and hazy morning almost half a century ago.

Racial tensions in Hancock County continued to rise throughout the late ‘60s and early ‘70s. In a New York Times article from 1971, the white mayor of the city of Sparta is reported to have purchased 10 submachine guns with the rumoured intension of intimidating the black population. In retaliation, black officials ordered a further 30 submachine guns with McCown allegedly encouraging African Americans to buy and stockpile firearms.

Georgia Governor Jimmy Carter (the man soon to become the 39th president of the United States) was drafted in as a mediator and the ‘arms race’ was ultimately halted. We're sure these walls must've seen their fair share of late-night meetings between McCown and his political allies during that turbulent time – if only walls could talk!

Step outside onto the veranda and it’s almost impossible to see the surrounding land. The balcony is obscured by a thick layer of vegetation that is beginning to inch its way across the decks towards the house. McCown would have once paced the boards of this terrace, perhaps contemplating his next move as he surveyed the property’s extensive gardens.

Love this? This mysterious abandoned mansion is rumoured to have been built on gold

At the front of the house, the creeping plants have begun to die back in places, revealing more of the ornate wraparound veranda. A common feature of early 20th-century homes, they were designed to offer shade in the summer and create a cool outdoor seating area. If you look closely, you can still make out the elaborately carved posts, balusters and brackets; an indication of the homeowner’s wealth.

It was money that proved the catalyst for McCown’s eventual downfall. In 1974, The Atlanta Constitution published a series of articles that called into question McCown’s authority to run ECCO, alleging that he'd redirected poverty funds for his own personal use. It was the final straw.

The Internal Revenue Service was called on to carry out an internal audit of ECCO’s finances. The results revealed ‘questionable’ costs of $281,000, though the sum was later reduced to $90,000. A federal grand jury investigation of both ECCO and McCown was initiated with the aim of establishing whether the funds granted to the organisation had been misused.

Outside the abandoned property, the grounds are in significantly better shape than the house itself. The grass has been recently mown and the low bushes are neatly trimmed. Some way behind the house, there is a small clearing almost completely encircled by box hedges. At its centre lies a mysterious block of stone...

This is the final resting place of John McCown who died on 30th January 1976, aged just 41 years old. Suspended from his role as CEO of ECCO, McCown decided to take a few friends for a flight in a single-engine Cessna aircraft. The plane crashed in the woods near his home, killing McCown and two of his three friends.

His death did nothing to prevent the trial from continuing. Eventually, five members of ECCO were convicted of fraudulent use of federal poverty funds, effectively putting an end to the organisation’s activity. While significant inroads were made in Hancock County, the ECCO's reputation was left in tatters.

Today, the house stands as a reminder of the work carried out by John McCown in Hancock County. Whether he was a fraud or a saviour, the ‘political boss’ of Georgia undoubtedly contributed to the success of the civil rights movement in the United States. Whilst his abandoned house slowly crumbles and disintegrates, his legacy lives on. 

Loved this? Step inside the abandoned Long Island house untouched for 40 years