EMMITSBURG - Peter Kranz, Maryland's dinosaur evangelist, teeters precariously on the weed-choked slope of an old mudstone quarry near the Pennsylvania line.

His feet slipping on the tilted bedrock and fallen leaves, the Washington-based geologist is trying to explain to quarry owner and town councilman Patrick Boyle how Emmitsburg could turn the rocks in this forlorn place into a wellspring of tourist dollars.

"If you peel this back," he says, waving toward the brush and dirt clinging to the quarry's layered rock slabs, "there's absolutely going to be footprints on them."

Dinosaur footprints, that is. After all, dinosaur tracks from these same ancient mud flats were found here a century ago. There's a slice of them on display now at the Maryland Science Center. The town could expose more tracks here, or lift them out and display them in a more convenient spot.

Boyle scratches his head. Kranz keeps talking.

"Get yourself a dinosaur logo, and maybe have a big sign on Route 15 if it's allowed," he says. "People will come to see dinosaur tracks, and they might even buy gasoline. People will stop for a dinosaur, I kid you not."

It's an idea that Kranz has been peddling elsewhere for a decade now: People, especially kids, love dinosaurs. And while Maryland is no Montana, dinosaur tracks, fossil bones and teeth are found here too, and they offer real opportunities for education, tourism and economic development.

Take Dinosaur State Park in Rocky Hill, Conn. The 500 tracks of Jurassic predators there drew 82,000 visitors last year. Half came from out of state and many from overseas, says director Richard Krueger. The state just built a $2 million museum there.

Tiny Parrsboro, Nova Scotia, built the Fundy Geological Museum and turned that town's 200 million-year-old fossil deposits into a local industry catering to geological tourists.

So why not Maryland? Kranz asks.

Last winter, he and a gaggle of Maryland schoolchildren de-scended on Annapolis to push the General Assembly to designate a 60-foot-long Cretaceous plant-eater called Astrodon johnstoni as the state's official dinosaur. They were undeterred by a decade of failures, or by the laughter and fear of political embarrassment among some politicians.

Lawmakers may have wondered about this wild-looking guy with the Grizzly Adams face, the Astrodon T-shirt and pith helmet. But his quest was no silly stunt.

A legislative victory for Astrodon, Kranz and his allies in the General Assembly believed, would alert lawmakers and their constituents to the presence of dinosaur remains in Maryland, and to their potential educational and economic benefit.

Del. Joan B. Pitkin, of Prince George's County, and Baltimore Sen. Nathaniel McFadden understood, and co-sponsored the bill. They argued that New Jersey's state dinosaur - "Haddie," for Hadrosaurus foulki - has spawned hats, T-shirts and puppets that earn barrels of money for the State Museum at Trenton.

It worked. Astrodon and the kids won.

"At this point," Kranz says, "if there's a legislator in the state of Maryland that doesn't know there are dinosaurs in this state, I would be very surprised. We've got the momentum moving in favor of the dinosaurs."

Kranz is relentless, says Pitkin. "He's colorful and persistent - indomitable really. He doesn't take setbacks very hard. He just keeps going." His next project - an Astrodon license plate.

Years of dogged persistence by Kranz and Rich Dolesh, chief of history and interpretation at the National Capital Parks and Planning Commission, persuaded the agency in 1995 to set aside 15 acres near U.S. Route 1 in Muirkirk, Prince George's County, as a fossil dig site for a planned dinosaur park.

It's near the spot where 100-million-year-old fossil bones and teeth of Astrodon and other creatures have turned up for 140 years. Kranz envisions a modest beginning, with a nature center offering hands-on paleontology for kids, and later a conference center and library for scientists.

He and Pitkin plan to seek County Executive Wayne K. Curry's support, and then take the idea to Gov. Parris Glendening.

But on this dry autumn day, Kranz's attention has turned to Emmitsburg and helping the town fathers figure out how to exploit their dinosaur heritage.

"The town was very concerned ... that the historic, archaeological and paleontological resources be protected in some way," says David Whitaker, a planner with Frederick County's department of planning and zoning. In August, the town updated its comprehensive town plan to protect dinosaur tracks or fossils as "sensitive areas," the same as steep slopes and stream buffers. Developers must conduct paleontological surveys before construction.

Kranz wants Emmitsburg to succeed because he dreams of paleontological sites across the state linked by a common educational and promotional effort. And state lawmakers are more likely to support capital projects that benefit several communities. He quickly rattles off the names of nine central Maryland counties with proven or likely dinosaur deposits.

But what's in it for Kranz? Hawking Maryland's dinosaur heritage certainly is not making him rich.

A former science teacher, Kranz, 53, lives in a rented place in Washington with Kathy Koumoutseas, a designer at the U.S. Botanical Garden, and their 4-year-old daughter, Merope. He drives a cranky old minivan and happily sells dinosaur T-shirts out of the back. Through his nonprofit Dinosaur Fund, he produces dinosaur-themed birthday parties and hands-on fossil-hunting programs for more than 50 area schools.

"It's just barely enough, but it doesn't really matter," he says. "I don't buy a lot of things. I've never had a new car in my life."

Kranz earned a Ph.D. in geology from the University of Chicago. He has written scientific papers and a slim book called "Dinosaurs in Maryland." He consults for a variety of institutions, including the Maryland Science Center, but he remains unaffiliated with any university, agency or museum.

"I wouldn't last at the Smithsonian," he says. "I don't operate the way they do. I can work with them, but I can't work for them. They have a lot of written and unwritten rules." He knows his personality and lack of orthodoxy rub some people the wrong way. "I've got to work on my social skills," he says.

Some in the science establishment don't take him seriously, he admits. "But when they get fossils as a result of the work I've been doing, they have to accept that as being of some value. Usually the most negative responses I get are from ... people who aren't dealing with me directly."

Kranz bristles at the idea that only "paleontologist-priests" should look for fossils. There are too few people looking as it is, he insists.

Like those who argued in the 1920s for preservation of Virginia's crumbling Colonial capital at Williamsburg, Kranz says what he is doing "fundamentally has value. It's something I can do that will improve the quality of life of people in this area."

But it goes beyond that.

"I don't have a personal attachment to dinosaurs per se," he says. "Dinosaurs just sort of reached out and grabbed me because people were interested in them. What I was interested in was science education, and getting people interested in science, because ultimately science depends on public support and good will.

"That's the role I think I can serve here: to say to the public that science is valuable, and to say to scientists that they need to reach out to the public and say, 'We need your support and we appreciate your support.'"

"I'm doing it," he says, "to get scientists and people together again."

Peter Kranz can be reached at 202-547-3326, or by e-mail at

dinosaurfununo.com.

Pub Date: 11/29/98