By Joseph Citro, author of Weird New England
 It all started out rather covertly––possibly supernaturally. In 1956, Waterbury Connecticut lawyer John Baptist Greco met at his home with a small group of associates. The names and exact content of that original gathering have never been made public, but the effects of that meeting can be seen till this day.
Some say Mr. Greco revealed that God had given him a task to perform. Others say he made a humanitarian appeal for a community project. In any event, a plan resulted; apparently it went something like this: Mr. Greco, a faithful lifelong Roman Catholic, had just returned from a visit to the Holy Land. He lamented that everyone could not enjoy the same uplifting experience, and wanted to propose a possible solution. Since it would be too expensive to fly Pilgrims to the Holy land, and more expensive still to relocate the Holy Land to America, the best solution was to build a vast, minutely detailed replica on Pine Hill in Waterbury. This ongoing effort became Mr. Greco’s inspiration and avocation.
Blueprints for the construction were developed from studies of the Bible, maps, photographs, and other authoritative sources (including, some say, divine revelation). John Baptist Greco watched with satisfaction as a 20-acre village grew up before his eyes: the Holy Land in miniature.
 Mr. Greco and his helpers quickly made the construction of Holy Land a community effort. They fashioned buildings from anything they could find: plywood, tarpaper, plaster of Paris, car parts, old sinks, blown out boilers, chicken wire, refrigerators, metal drums, bedsprings, and concrete.
Inadvertently, they had also created a grand piece of outsider art full of Lilliputian pyramids, tombs, grottos, tunnels, statues, and tableaus of religious instruction like "The Pictorial Life of Christ – From the Cradle to the Cross." Somehow, they even located an authentic photograph of Jesus and a replica of the shroud of Turin. And underneath it all lay the legendary catacombs.
By the end of 1958, there were 11 buildings standing. By 1970, nearly 200 sprawled beneath a 60-foot stainless steel cross (local non-Catholics say Christ was electrocuted on that cross).
Now multitudes could re-walk the dusty paths of Jesus’s life and death––only in miniature.
 During its heyday, the 1960s and 1970s, Holy Land attracted some 50,000 visitors a year, but its lifespan seemed mysteriously linked to that of its creator. At age 88, Mr. Greco could no longer care for his creation. In 1984, the magical site officially closed to visitors.
Now, 20 years later, it’s still there—a diminutive ghost town. Weather and vandals have taken their toll, but somehow Holy Land survives. While locals decide whether to raze it, restore it, or turn it into a hilltop park, people continue to visit. In secret. Just like the place began.
In its day the miniature city was so extensive that now it is ripe for archeological exploration. Can some of the treasures it contained can be rediscovered or restored? What secrets would an exploration of the mysterious catacombs reveal? Could we excavate the actual photo of Jesus? See evidence of miracles? Locate the giant fiberglass Bible that seems to have disappeared, or find the remains of miniature popes and "Garden of Eden" progenitors?
For some odd reason the rubble and ruins of Holy Land hold a peculiar fascination. The eye may perceive junk, but perhaps the soul sees something else. Where once there was a sign of hope and redemption, its degeneration may portend something about the times in which we live.
Whatever may be its fate, and ours, Mr. John Baptist Greco, who died in 1986 at age 91, will be watching over us from high above the 60-foot cross, smiling down from his miniature Heaven.
Lawyer/evangelist/artist John Greco’s miniaturized re-creation of the Holy Land sits high on top of a hill in Waterbury, Connecticut. At the peak is an enormous cross that can be seen from miles away; over the years, it’s become Waterbury’s signature icon, similar to the Jesus statue above Rio de Janeiro. The electricity bill (which keeps Holy Land aglow through the night) has been pre-paid for the foreseeable future.
Years of erosion (due to the natural elements as well as the unnatural activities of local teenagers) have reduced Holy Land USA to a well-lit ruin. However, the dilapidation has added an intriguing post-apocalyptic aesthetic to this formerly pristine folk art creation.
Greco's work is reminiscent of Southern Baptist folk art representations of biblical stories. It looks like a cross between the Holy Land replicas of Brother Joseph's miniature Ave Maria Grotto in Alabama, and the full-scale interpretation of the Holy Land in Bedford, VA.
– Ben Osto
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