Intrigued by this persistent ghost story, and initially skeptical of its details, I decided to delve deeper. Were these accounts merely urban legend, devoid of factual basis? My investigation revealed a surprising truth: Whiskey Pete was indeed a real person, and his grave was, in fact, disturbed, lending a layer of authenticity to the haunting tales.
The Genesis of Whiskey Pete: From Moonshiner to Local Character
Long before the towering hotels of Primm dominated the landscape, a modest service station named the State Line Station marked the Nevada-California border. This humble establishment was operated by Pete McIntyre, a man better known as Whiskey Pete, a moniker earned from his reputation as a cantankerous moonshiner. Pete was a figure who commanded respect, or perhaps instilled a healthy dose of fear. He was a known personality in Las Vegas, viewed by some as someone who operated outside the conventional rules.
Piecing together Whiskey Pete’s history from available records proves challenging. He remains elusive in the U.S. Census records of 1900, 1910, and 1920. However, the archives of Tulare County jail reveal his presence in January 1918. His offense? Running a “blind pig,” a clandestine establishment for illegal alcohol sales during prohibition. While initially sentenced to 30 days, Pete’s inability to post bail extended his stay to over two months. Jail records list his birthplace as Arizona and his profession as a miner – details that diverge from his later census entry. By 1922, Pete’s bootlegging activities landed him in Nevada jail for six months, further cementing his outlaw image.
The 1930 U.S. Census finally places him in Crescent, Nevada, a small mining town near the state line. Here, he’s listed as the proprietor of a service station. Whiskey Pete first surfaces in Las Vegas newspaper archives in 1928, through a letter read by the Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce. A woman recounted her late-night stop at Whiskey Pete’s gas station for oil, water, and fuel. Upon realizing the car only needed water, Pete reportedly became “abusive and threatening,” denying them water and forcing them to drive on with an empty radiator and overheating engine to the next station. The Chamber of Commerce revealed a pattern of similar complaints from tourists traveling between Las Vegas and California, some alleging threats of violence and even gunfire from Whiskey Pete. These incidents were referred to the Las Vegas sheriff for intervention.
While Pete’s behavior may have temporarily moderated, by March 1931, he faced a serious charge: assault with a deadly weapon. He was accused of shooting Rube Bradshaw, the Elgin postmaster, in the shoulder. Unsurprisingly, accounts of the incident differed sharply. Bradshaw claimed Pete was already “surly” when he entered the station seeking coffee. Upon Pete’s hostile reaction to the coffee request, Bradshaw decided to leave. As he reached the door, Bradshaw stated Pete hurled an insult, and when he turned to face Pete, he was shot in the shoulder with a pistol.
A preliminary hearing ensued, where Pete pleaded not guilty and was released on bail. He voiced resentment towards his negative reputation, citing the need for self-defense in his isolated location. He also emphasized his financial responsibility for 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, by October, their marriage took a dramatic turn when Lauretta sought to have him declared insane. Physicians, however, deemed Pete mentally sound but physically failing due to “miner’s consumption” (likely silicosis). Mrs. McIntyre, the sole witness against her husband, testified to his violent rages and accusations. Pete readily admitted to his temper but countered with accusations of his wife’s infidelity, claiming to have found her “running around naked in the hills with other men.”
Pete recounted a prior episode where Lauretta had taken him to a sanitarium in Banning, California, where she initially cared for him. He alleged that upon his improvement, she abandoned him, neglecting the service station in her absence and engaging in affairs. The judge ultimately denied Lauretta’s commitment motion, and she disappears from historical record thereafter.
By December 1932, Pete defiantly declared himself “too busy to die,” claiming to have outlived his predicted lifespan by four months. By September 1933, he was back at the Stillwell sanitarium, reporting his condition as stable. Whiskey Pete McIntyre finally succumbed to his ailments on November 11, 1933. His funeral was announced in Las Vegas, setting the stage for the truly unusual chapter of his story.
The Standing Burial: A Testament to Pete’s Eccentricity
Sometime before his death, Pete had confided in his friends his unconventional burial wish: to be interred standing upright near 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.” Honoring his request, his friends used dynamite to excavate a six-foot hole in the limestone cliff overlooking Highway 91 behind his station. Over time, the precise location of Pete’s grave faded from memory. Grave markers were repeatedly stolen, eventually ceasing to be replaced. His service station changed hands several times, ultimately becoming the site of Whiskey Pete’s Casino in 1977.
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 near the original State Line Station made a startling discovery. Their equipment struck a decaying wooden coffin, revealing the skeletal remains of Whiskey Pete McIntyre. Contrary to some embellished legends of him being buried with a ten-gallon hat, guns, and whiskey, they found only his bones, remnants of hair, dentures, and shirt buttons. [^1]
The coffin, reportedly about 80% intact, was found angled towards the highway. The project manager recounted their awareness of Whiskey Pete’s burial in the vicinity, but not the exact location. “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 for a reburial and memorial on the property, no memorial appears to have materialized, and the precise location of Pete’s current resting place remains undisclosed. Rumors circulate that his remains were reinterred in one of the caves he once used for moonshining, adding another layer of mystery to the Whiskey Pete legend.
The Lingering Spirit: Whiskey Pete’s Haunted Legacy
The tale of Whiskey Pete doesn’t end with his death or reburial. The legend of his ghost haunting Whiskey Pete’s Casino persists, fueled by countless accounts of eerie encounters. Patrons and employees describe the distinct feeling of being watched, the fleeting apparition of an old man in western attire, a figure that echoes descriptions of Whiskey Pete in his prime.
Could these sightings be merely products of overactive imaginations, or is there a connection to the disturbed grave? The legend suggests that Whiskey Pete’s spirit is restless due to the disruption of his chosen burial site. He is said to be making his presence known, keeping watch over the place that now bears his name, perhaps ensuring that things are still running according to his (undoubtedly cantankerous) standards.
Whether you believe in ghosts or not, the story of Whiskey Pete adds a unique dimension to Whiskey Pete’s Hotel & Casino. It transforms the casino from just another roadside stop into a place imbued with history, eccentricity, and a lingering sense of the past. The next time you find yourself at Whiskey Pete’s, take a moment to consider the legend, and perhaps you too will feel the watchful gaze of the old moonshiner, forever bound to his desert domain.
[^1]: “Remains of Whiskey Pete found” – Las Vegas Review-Journal – February 5, 1994
