It seems obvious to me now that, considering the times and the relatively remote location—it took us almost forty-five minutes to get out to the house on our bikes—that we should have seen evidence of others in the house. But there were no beer bottles , no graffiti, no empty Dairy Queen bags, no cigarette butts. No evidence that anyone was using the house for parties, let alone squatting there.
The small-paned windows were largely broken, so clearly people were getting close enough to the house to do some vandalizing, but now that I think back on it, they were not coming into the house. Only we boys dared do that.