If you’ve ever driven down I-84 through Waterbury, Connecticut, you’ve seen it. High on Pine Hill, a massive, glowing cross looms over the highway like a silent sentinel. It’s hard to miss. Honestly, if you’re a local, you probably don’t even think twice about it anymore. But for everyone else, that cross is the only visible marker of one of the weirdest, most tragic, and strangely beautiful experiments in American folk art: Holy Land USA Waterbury CT.
It wasn't always a "creepy" ruins site. Back in the late 1950s, this place was a bona fide tourist destination. People came from all over to see a miniature version of Bethlehem and Jerusalem built entirely out of... well, junk. We're talking chicken wire, plywood, old bathtubs, and leftover concrete. It was the fever dream of a local attorney named John Baptist Greco. He wanted to bring the "pictorial story of the life of Christ" to the masses.
And for a while, it worked. In its heyday, Holy Land attracted upwards of 40,000 visitors a year. But then things got dark. The park closed in 1984, the founder passed away, and what was once a site of pilgrimage became a playground for vandals, a backdrop for a horrific crime, and a symbol of urban decay.
The Vision of John Baptist Greco
John Baptist Greco wasn't a professional builder. He was a Yale-educated lawyer and a devout Catholic who basically had a "message from God" to build a shrine. He started in 1956, and he didn't use high-end materials. He used what he had.
If you walk the grounds today, you can still see the bones of his vision. He used old telephone poles wrapped in mesh to create "pillars." He built tiny houses to represent the villages of Israel. There were catacombs extending 200 feet underground and a display for the Shroud of Turin.
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Greco’s "Companions of Christ" volunteers spent decades hauling materials up that steep hill. It was a labor of love that felt more like an Italian sacri monti (sacred mountain) than a modern amusement park. There were no roller coasters. No funnel cakes. Just statues, dioramas, and a lot of prayer.
Why it all fell apart
The decline didn't happen overnight. When Greco’s health started failing in the early 80s, the park began to slip. He officially closed it for "renovations" in 1984, but those renovations never really happened. When he died in 1986, he left the property to the Religious Teachers Filippini, an order of nuns.
The nuns were good people, but they weren't property developers. They didn't have the millions of dollars needed to maintain 18 acres of crumbling plywood and plaster. Nature started taking back the hill. Weeds swallowed the "Garden of Gethsemane." Vandals beheaded statues of camels and saints. It became a destination for urban explorers and teenagers looking for a place to drink—or worse.
A Dark Chapter: The 2010 Tragedy
You can't talk about Holy Land USA Waterbury CT without mentioning the "incident" that most locals still whisper about. In July 2010, the park’s reputation shifted from "weirdly abandoned" to "dangerous."
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A 16-year-old girl named Chloe Ottman was murdered at the base of the cross by her friend. It was a brutal, senseless act that shocked the community and effectively turned the park into a "no-go" zone for many. For years after that, the gate stayed locked, and the police were quick to chase off anyone trespassing. The site felt cursed.
The 2026 Revival: What’s Happening Now?
Is Holy Land USA still abandoned? Sort of. But it's complicated.
In 2013, the city’s former mayor, Neil O’Leary, and a local businessman named Fred "Fritz" Blasius bought the land for $350,000. They didn't want to build condos; they wanted to save the cross. They formed a non-profit and started the slow, agonizing process of cleaning up decades of neglect.
Here is the current status of the park as of 2026:
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- The Peace Cross: The old neon cross is gone. In its place is a 52-foot stainless steel structure filled with over 4,500 LED lights. It changes colors based on the liturgical calendar—purple for Lent, red for feast days, pink for Breast Cancer Awareness.
- Access: It is technically open to the public during daylight hours only. You can park near the gate at 60 Slocum Street and walk up. Don't even think about being there after sunset; the "No Trespassing" signs are strictly enforced now.
- The Trail: As of late 2025 and into 2026, a new "Holy Land Trail" has been under development. Volunteers have been working on a meditation path through the woods that will eventually feature new Stations of the Cross.
- The Ruins: Most of the original 1950s structures are still there, but they are in rough shape. Some have been refurbished, but many remain as "folk art ruins." It’s a photographer's dream, but a safety inspector's nightmare.
The "Tetanus Shot" Warning
If you’re planning a visit, keep your expectations in check. This isn't Disney World. It’s a hilltop in Waterbury.
Roadside America famously once warned visitors to make sure their tetanus shots were up to date before exploring. That’s still pretty good advice. The ground is uneven, there’s rusty rebar poking out of old concrete, and the "buildings" are fragile.
But there’s something about being up there. When you stand at the base of that massive cross and look out over the city, the noise of the highway fades away. You start to see why Greco spent his life building this. It’s a weird, kitschy, heartbreaking piece of Connecticut history that refuses to stay dead.
Actionable Tips for Visiting
If you're going to check out Holy Land USA, do it the right way.
- Wear real shoes. No flip-flops. The terrain is steep and rocky. You're basically hiking a small mountain.
- Go during the day. Seriously. The police patrol the area regularly after dark, and the "haunted" vibes are real.
- Respect the fence. The main cross is surrounded by barbed wire for a reason—to keep vandals away. Stay on the marked paths.
- Support the non-profit. The site is run entirely by volunteers. If you appreciate the fact that it hasn't been turned into a strip mall, consider checking out the official website to see how to help with the restoration.
The story of Holy Land isn't over. Whether it ever fully returns to its former glory is anyone’s guess, but for now, the cross still shines, and the hill is no longer silent.