Walk down Ocean Avenue in the quiet, upscale suburb of Amityville, New York, and you might miss it. Well, you'd miss it if you were looking for the iconic "eye windows" from the movies. They’re gone. The house is still there, though. It’s a massive, beautiful Dutch Colonial that looks exactly like the kind of place a successful professional would want to retire in. But the question that keeps tour buses and curious teenagers idling at the curb remains: do anybody live in the amityville house today?
The short answer is yes. People live there. It is a private residence, not a museum, not a haunted attraction, and certainly not an abandoned ruin.
Living there takes a certain kind of thick skin. Honestly, the ghosts are probably the least of your worries if you’re the deed holder. The real nightmare is the constant stream of strangers peering through the hedges or trying to snap selfies on the front lawn. Since the 1970s, the home has changed hands several times, and each owner has had to strike a weird bargain with history. They get a gorgeous waterfront property at a price that is often—let's be real—a bit of a "haunted house discount," but they lose their privacy in the process.
The Most Famous Address in Long Island
112 Ocean Avenue. That’s the spot. Though, technically, one of the previous owners actually had the address changed to 108 Ocean Avenue to throw off the "ghost hunters." It didn't work. Google Maps doesn't care about a house number change when the architecture is that distinctive.
To understand who lives there now, you have to look at the cycle of who has lived there. Most people start the story with the Lutz family in 1975. George and Kathy Lutz moved in with their kids and fled 28 days later, claiming the walls bled green slime and a demonic pig named Jodie was hanging out in the yard. That story became the bedrock of a billion-dollar horror franchise. But before the slime, there was the tragedy.
On November 13, 1974, Ronald DeFeo Jr. shot and killed six members of his family in their sleep. That is the only undisputed "horror" of the house. It's a heavy legacy. When you ask if people live there, you’re asking who is willing to sleep in the rooms where a mass murder occurred.
The Cromarty family moved in right after the Lutzes fled. They stayed for a decade. James and Barbara Cromarty are the unsung heroes of the Amityville skeptics. They lived there from 1977 to 1987 and essentially spent ten years telling the world that nothing happened. No slime. No pigs. No flies. Just a lot of annoying tourists. They even sued the Lutzes and the book’s author, Jay Anson, for "nuisance" because the fame of the house made their lives a living hell.
Who Calls 112 Ocean Avenue Home Now?
The house hasn't been empty for long stretches. It’s too valuable. It’s a prime piece of real estate with a boathouse and a heated pool. After the Cromartys, Peter and Jeanne O'Neil bought it. Then Brian Wilson (not the Beach Boy) picked it up for about $310,000 back in 1997.
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By the time 2010 rolled around, the house was back on the market. It sold for $950,000 to David and Caroline D'Antonio. David was a retired math teacher. Think about that for a second. A math teacher lived in the most "evil" house in America. He told reporters at the time that the house was "his dream." He didn't care about the ghosts. He cared about the square footage and the water view.
The D’Antonios stayed for seven years. If the house were truly trying to kill its occupants, a retired math teacher is a pretty brave first line of defense.
In 2017, the house sold again. This time it went for $605,000. That’s actually a bit of a dip, but the real estate market is fickle. The current owners keep an extremely low profile. You won't find them doing interviews on the Travel Channel. They don't invite paranormal investigators over for coffee. They are private citizens living in a town that is, quite frankly, tired of the legend.
The Neighborhood Vibe
Amityville is a gorgeous village. It’s old-school New York. The people who live on Ocean Avenue are doctors, lawyers, and business owners. They hate the "Horror" reputation.
If you drive by today, you'll see:
- High-end security cameras.
- "No Trespassing" signs that mean business.
- A fence that obscures much of the ground level.
- Renovated windows that look nothing like the 1979 movie set.
The village has actually made it difficult for tourists. You can’t just park your car and have a picnic on the sidewalk. The police will move you along. The residents have built a literal and figurative wall around the property.
Why Do People Keep Buying It?
You might wonder why anyone would deal with the headache. Do anybody live in the amityville house because they love horror? Usually, it's the opposite. The people who buy 112 Ocean Avenue are almost always skeptics. They are people who see a 5,000-square-foot house on a canal and see a bargain.
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Christopher Quaratino, one of the Lutz children, has spoken out as an adult about how the "haunting" was largely exaggerated by his stepfather. When the mystery is stripped away, you’re left with a dark history, yes, but also a very sturdy house.
The interior has been gutted and renovated so many times that the floor plan Ronald DeFeo knew is largely gone. It’s been "cleansed" by contractors, not priests. New drywall, new plumbing, and high-end fixtures have a way of making "evil" feel like a distant memory.
The Real Estate Reality
Let's look at the numbers. In the New York market, waterfront property is gold. If this house didn't have the "Amityville" name attached to it, it would probably be worth significantly more than its last sale price. The "horror" factor acts as a ceiling on the price. It limits the pool of buyers to those who aren't superstitious.
Basically, the house is a litmus test for rationalism. If you believe in residual energy, you stay away. If you believe in equity and crown molding, you put in an offer.
Dealing With the "Lookie-Loos"
Living there requires a strategy. The current and past owners have developed a few:
- Changing the Exterior: The most famous change was the windows. The quarter-circle "eye" windows were replaced with standard square windows. This makes the house look like any other Dutch Colonial on the block.
- Landscaping: Thick hedges and tall fences are a must. You want to block the line of sight from the street.
- Address Modification: As mentioned, the 108 vs. 112 thing. It’s a minor hurdle for the dedicated, but it stops the casual driver.
- Legal Action: The neighbors and owners are quick to call the cops on anyone stepping onto the grass.
It is a weird way to live. You’re essentially a curator of a monument you didn't ask for.
The Truth About the "Curse"
If the house were truly cursed, you’d expect a trail of tragedies following every owner. But that hasn't happened. Since the DeFeo murders in '74, there hasn't been a single violent crime or mysterious death in the house.
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The O'Neils lived there happily. The Cromartys lived there happily. The D'Antonios lived there happily. The "curse" seems to be localized entirely to the wallets of the Lutz family, who struggled with the fame and the fallout of their story for decades.
So, when people ask do anybody live in the amityville house, what they’re really asking is: is it safe? Based on the last 50 years of residency, the answer is a resounding yes. It’s safe, it’s quiet, and it’s a great place to watch the sunset over the water—provided you don't mind the occasional teenager with a flashlight lurking at the end of the driveway.
Fact vs. Fiction
We have to separate the Hollywood version from the Long Island version.
- The Movie: The house is in a lonely, wooded area.
- The Reality: It’s in a dense, wealthy suburb with houses right next door.
- The Movie: The house is a black-shuttered looming monster.
- The Reality: It’s a white-sided, charming home that looks quite cozy.
The disconnect is massive. If you went there today expecting to feel a "chill," you’d probably be disappointed by the sound of leaf blowers and the sight of a neighbor washing their Lexus.
What to Keep in Mind If You Visit
If you’re planning a trip to see it, honestly, don't. Or at least, be respectful. It is a private home. The people living there are trying to eat dinner, watch Netflix, and live their lives. They aren't part of the entertainment industry.
The town of Amityville has a complex relationship with the house. On one hand, it put the village on the map. On the other, it’s a source of constant irritation. Most locals won't even talk about it. If you ask for directions to the "Horror House," you’re likely to get a cold shoulder or a finger pointed in the wrong direction.
The fascination with the house says more about us than it does about the building. We want to believe that evil leaves a mark. We want to believe that stories don't just end when the book is closed. But at 112 Ocean Avenue, the story did end. It turned into a story about property taxes, renovations, and trying to keep the lawn green.
Actionable Insights for the Curious
If you're fascinated by the Amityville case, there are better ways to engage than stalking the current residents.
- Visit the Amityville Historical Society: They have actual records of the town's history that go far beyond the 1970s.
- Research the DeFeo Trial: If you want the real "horror," look into the court transcripts. The reality of the DeFeo case is much more haunting than any ghost story because it actually happened.
- Respect the Privacy: Treat the house like you would any other home. No trespassing, no drones, no harassment.
- Look at the Architecture: If you're a fan of Dutch Colonial homes, Amityville and the surrounding towns (like Massapequa and Babylon) are full of them. You can appreciate the style without the baggage.
The Amityville house is occupied. It is a home. It is loved. And most importantly, it is a reminder that life goes on, even after the darkest of nights. The current residents aren't living in a horror movie; they're just living on the water in a house that happens to have a very loud history.