Whiskey Pete’s Hotel & Casino in Primm, Nevada, isn’t just another pit stop on the long stretch of highway; it’s a place steeped in legend, whispered tales, and an unnerving sense of the supernatural. For years, patrons and staff have reported a peculiar phenomenon within its walls – the feeling of being watched, the fleeting glimpse of an old man in western attire, who vanishes as quickly as he appears. This spectral figure is said to be none other than Whiskey Pete himself, forever bound to his former property, disturbed by the unearthing of his grave during the resort’s construction. Legend has it, Pete’s ghost is a constant presence, a watchful guardian reminding everyone, “I’m still here.”
While many dismiss these stories as mere folklore, urban legends spun around a quirky roadside attraction, the reality is more intriguing than fiction. Whiskey Pete was indeed a real person, and his grave was, in fact, disturbed. Let’s delve into the true story behind the legend, separating fact from fiction and exploring the enigmatic history of Whiskey Pete and his haunted desert casino.
The Dusty Beginnings of a Desert Legend: Whiskey Pete McIntyre
Long before the towering hotels and flashing lights of Primm Valley Resorts dominated the Nevada landscape, there was a humble service station, a beacon in the desolate expanse, known as the State Line Station. This outpost was the domain of Pete McIntyre, a man as rugged and untamed as the desert itself. A known moonshiner with a fiery temper, Pete, or “Whiskey Pete” as he was widely known, was not a man to be trifled with. His reputation preceded him, especially in nearby Las Vegas, where some admired his audacity while others considered him a lawless figure who operated outside the bounds of polite society.
Tracing Whiskey Pete through history is like chasing a desert mirage. He’s conspicuously absent from the US Census records of 1900, 1910, and 1920. However, the records of Tulare County jail paint a clearer, albeit less flattering, picture. In January 1918, Pete found himself incarcerated for running a “blind pig,” a Prohibition-era term for an illegal speakeasy. Despite a 30-day sentence, his inability to post bail extended his stay to over two months. Interestingly, jail records list his birthplace as Arizona, contradicting later census data where he claimed a different origin. His occupation was listed as miner, a far cry from the service station proprietor he would later become. His rebellious streak continued, leading to another arrest in 1922 for bootlegging in Nevada, resulting in a six-month jail term.
By 1930, the US Census finally places Pete in Crescent, Nevada, a small mining community near the California border. He’s now officially the proprietor of a service station. The Las Vegas newspapers first mention him in 1928, not for laudable deeds, but in connection with complaints from tourists. The Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce received a letter detailing a harrowing experience from a woman who stopped at Whiskey Pete’s late one night. Seeking only water and a check of her oil, she was met with hostility. Pete, upon realizing she only needed water, reportedly became “abusive and threatening,” refusing her request and forcing her to drive on with an empty radiator and overheating engine. This incident was not isolated. The Chamber of Commerce revealed a string of similar complaints from travelers, some even alleging that Whiskey Pete shot at them or threatened violence. The matter was escalated to the Las Vegas sheriff, presumably for a stern talking-to.
Pete’s abrasive personality seemed to persist. By March 1931, he faced serious charges of assault with a deadly weapon for shooting Elgin postmaster Rube Bradshaw in the shoulder. Unsurprisingly, accounts of the event differed wildly. Bradshaw claimed that upon entering Pete’s gas station with his sons, he was met with Pete’s immediate “surliness.” A simple request for coffee was allegedly met with rage. Bradshaw stated he decided to leave, but as he reached the door, Pete hurled insults, and when Bradshaw turned to respond, Pete shot him.
A preliminary hearing ensued, where Pete pleaded not guilty and was released on bail. He lamented his negative reputation to reporters, arguing that his isolated location necessitated him being armed for protection. He also publicly stated he was covering all of Rube Bradshaw’s medical expenses. Ultimately, the charges were dropped when Bradshaw failed to appear in court on three separate occasions.
In early 1932, Pete married Lauretta Frances Enders. However, the marital bliss was short-lived. By October, Lauretta sought to have Pete declared insane in court. Physicians deemed him sane but physically failing, suffering from “miner’s consumption” (likely silicosis) and nearing death. Lauretta, the sole witness against him, claimed Pete flew into rages and made accusations. Pete, in his defense, admitted to rages, but countered with accusations of Lauretta’s infidelity, claiming she was “running around naked in the hills with other men.” He further detailed an episode where Lauretta took him to a sanitarium, cared for him briefly, and then left him, neglecting the service station and engaging with other men upon his return. The judge denied Lauretta’s motion, and she disappears from the historical record thereafter.
Defying medical predictions, Pete declared himself “too busy to die” in December 1932, claiming to be four months past his expected demise. By September 1933, he was back at the sanitarium, telling reporters he was doing “okay.” Whiskey Pete McIntyre finally passed away on November 11, 1933. His funeral was announced in Las Vegas, setting the stage for the bizarre events surrounding his burial.
Standing Tall in Death: The Unusual Burial of Whiskey Pete
Before his death, Whiskey Pete had made a peculiar request to his friends: to be buried standing upright, overlooking his beloved service station. His exact, colorful words were, “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 wishes, his friends used dynamite to blast a six-foot hole in the limestone cliff behind his station, facing Highway 91. Over time, Whiskey Pete’s grave was lost, the marker repeatedly stolen until it was no longer replaced. The service station changed hands several times before the location was transformed into Whiskey Pete’s Casino in 1977.
The only known image of Whiskey Pete’s original grave.
Then, on February 2, 1994, while grading land for a railroad track to connect Whiskey Pete’s to Buffalo Bill’s across the freeway, construction workers stumbled upon an unexpected discovery. Near the original site of the State Line Station, their equipment struck a decaying wooden coffin. Inside, lay the skeletal remains of Whiskey Pete. Contrary to some embellished legends of him being buried with a ten-gallon hat, six-shooters, and a whiskey jug, they found only bones, remnants of hair, dentures, and shirt buttons.
Source: Las Vegas Review-Journal February 5, 1994, detailing the discovery of Whiskey Pete’s remains.
The coffin, reportedly 80% intact, was buried at an angle towards the highway. The project manager recounted the startling moment of discovery: “The tractor caught the edge of the box and the skull popped out. There was Whiskey Pete staring at us.”
While the resort initially announced plans to rebury Whiskey Pete with a memorial on the property, no memorial seems to have materialized. The exact location of his reinterment remains shrouded in mystery. Rumors persist that his remains were placed in one of the caves he once used for his moonshining operations.
The Lingering Spirit of Whiskey Pete’s
Whether the ghost stories are fueled by overactive imaginations, the desert’s eerie silence, or a genuine paranormal presence, the legend of Whiskey Pete’s haunting endures. The tale of a cantankerous moonshiner, buried standing up and then disturbed in his eternal rest, provides fertile ground for ghostly folklore. Perhaps the reported sightings are simply echoes of a life lived on the fringes, a personality too strong to be confined by death. Whatever the explanation, the whispers of Whiskey Pete’s ghost continue to add an intriguing layer to the history of this unique Nevada landmark, ensuring that the spirit of Whiskey Pete, in one form or another, remains watching over his desert domain.
