Nestled in Primm, Nevada, Whiskey Pete’s Hotel & Casino is shrouded in a captivating legend. It’s whispered that the spirit of old Whiskey Pete himself still roams the halls, creating an eerie atmosphere that both intrigues and unnerves guests and staff. Tales abound of an elderly figure, clad in classic western attire, materializing and then vanishing in the blink of an eye, leaving behind a palpable sense of being watched. The lore attributes this spectral presence to the disruption of Whiskey Pete’s grave during the resort’s construction, suggesting he remains to oversee his former domain.
Initially, the ghost stories surrounding Whiskey Pete’s Hotel seemed like mere folklore, lacking concrete details and reliable sources. The very existence of “Whiskey Pete” as a real person was questionable, contributing to the urban legend feel. However, delving deeper reveals a surprising truth: Whiskey Pete was indeed a real individual, and his grave was undeniably disturbed, adding a layer of authenticity to the haunting narratives.
The Genesis of Whiskey Pete
Long before the sprawling hotel and casino complex defined the Primm landscape, a modest service station named the State Line Station marked the spot. It was here that Pete McIntyre, a known moonshiner with a reputation for being cantankerous, established his business. Affectionately (or perhaps fearfully) nicknamed Whiskey Pete, he was a figure well-known in the Las Vegas area. Some admired his audacity, believing he operated outside the usual constraints of the law.
Piecing together Whiskey Pete’s history from official records proves challenging. He remains absent from the U.S. Census records of 1900, 1910, and 1920. However, records from the Tulare County jail place him there in January 1918. His offense? Running a “blind pig,” a clandestine establishment serving alcohol during prohibition, also known as a speakeasy. While initially sentenced to 30 days, his inability to post bail extended his stay to over two months. Interestingly, these jail records list his birthplace as Arizona, a detail that contrasts with his later census entries, and his occupation as a miner. By 1922, Pete’s run-ins with the law continued, resulting in a six-month jail sentence in Nevada for bootlegging.
The 1930 U.S. Census finally locates him in Crescent, Nevada, a small mining town near the California border. Here, he is listed as the proprietor of a service station. Newspaper mentions begin to surface around 1928, with the Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce documenting a complaint letter from a traveler who stopped at Whiskey Pete’s station late one evening. Seeking oil, water, and gas, the woman recounted a hostile encounter when Whiskey Pete realized she only needed water. He allegedly became “abusive and threatening,” refusing her water and forcing her to drive on with an empty radiator and overheating engine to find service elsewhere. The Chamber of Commerce revealed a pattern of similar complaints from tourists, some alleging threats of violence and even gunfire from Whiskey Pete. These concerns were forwarded to the Las Vegas sheriff for intervention.
While this incident might suggest a temporary change in Pete’s behavior, by March 1931, he faced a serious charge: assault with a deadly weapon. The victim was Rube Bradshaw, the Elgin postmaster, shot in the shoulder. Predictably, accounts differed. Bradshaw claimed Pete was already “surly” upon his arrival for coffee, escalating to rage when Bradshaw decided to leave and culminating in the shooting after an exchange of words.
Alt Text: Newspaper clipping detailing Whiskey Pete’s arrest for assault with a deadly weapon.
At the preliminary hearing, Pete pleaded not guilty and was released on bail. He voiced resentment towards his negative reputation, citing the isolation of his location as justification for being armed. He also publicly stated he was covering Bradshaw’s medical expenses. Ultimately, the charges were dropped due to Bradshaw’s repeated failure to appear in court.
Early in 1932, Pete married Lauretta Frances Enders. However, by October, their marriage took a dramatic turn when Lauretta sought to have him declared insane. Doctors deemed him mentally sound but physically frail, possibly days from death due to “miner’s consumption” (likely silicosis or a similar respiratory illness). Lauretta, the sole witness against him, claimed his fits of rage and accusations plagued her. Pete admitted to rages but retorted, questioning who wouldn’t rage upon finding their wife “running around naked in the hills with other men.”
He recounted being taken by Lauretta to the Stillwell Sanitarium in Banning, California, where she initially cared for him. However, upon signs of his recovery, she allegedly left. He returned home to find the service station neglected and Lauretta, in his words, “running around with other men.” The judge rejected Lauretta’s commitment motion, and she disappears from the historical record thereafter.
By December 1932, Pete, defying expectations, declared himself “too busy to die,” already four months past his predicted demise. By September 1933, he was back at Stillwell, reporting his health as stable. Whiskey Pete McIntyre finally passed away on November 11, 1933. His funeral was announced in Las Vegas, setting the stage for a truly unusual final act.
Buried Standing Upright
Sometime before his death, Whiskey Pete conveyed a peculiar wish to his friends: burial standing upright near his service station. His exact, colorful directive was, “Bury me up on the hill, standing up facing the valley so I can see all those sons of bitches goin’ by.” Loyal to his request, his friends used dynamite to create a six-foot hole in the limestone cliff behind his station, overlooking Highway 91. Over time, the precise location of Pete’s grave faded from memory. The grave marker was repeatedly stolen, eventually ceasing to be replaced. The service station changed hands several times before the property was developed into Whiskey Pete’s Casino in 1977.
Alt Text: Historical photograph of Whiskey Pete’s grave marker on a hillside, overlooking the valley.
Then, on February 2, 1994, construction workers grading land for a railroad track to connect Whiskey Pete’s to Buffalo Bill’s, on the opposite side of the freeway, made a startling discovery. Near the original State Line Station site, their equipment struck a decaying wooden coffin. Inside lay the skeletal remains of Whiskey Pete McIntyre. Contrary to some embellished tales of him being buried with a ten-gallon hat, six-shooters, and a whiskey jug, only his bones were found. Traces of hair on his skull, dentures, and shirt buttons were the only accompanying artifacts.
Alt Text: Newspaper image from the Las Vegas Review-Journal showing the unearthed skeletal remains of Whiskey Pete.
The coffin, reportedly about 80% intact, was angled towards the highway. The project manager admitted awareness of Whiskey Pete’s burial in the general area but not the precise location. “The tractor caught the edge of the box and the skull popped out. There was Whiskey Pete staring at us.”
Despite initial statements from the resort suggesting Whiskey Pete would be reburied on the property with a memorial, no such memorial seems to exist. The exact location of his reburial remains unknown. Rumors persist that his remains were reinterred in one of the caves he once used for moonshining. Whether this reburial is as disruptive as the first, and whether Whiskey Pete’s spirit truly lingers, continues to fuel the legendary hauntings of Whiskey Pete’s Hotel, drawing curious visitors to experience the mystery for themselves.
