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[00:09] It was safe to say that he could no longer live with the guilt, the stress, the fear of being caught. All of it was just a bit too much. A few weeks earlier, he had pulled off one of the greatest heists in history, and it had been way too easy. The 26-year-old bank employee had simply showed up to work with a box, telling his coworkers that it was a new microwave that he had picked up that morning. Then, at the end of the day, he carried the same box home. Only, now, it was filled with 8 million US dollars' worth of diamonds. The young thief whose name was never released to the Dutch media might have gotten away with it too. But after a month of watching the police chase their tales, he decided to confess to what he had done. And not only that, but he showed the authorities where he had hidden the gems, something the bank was exceedingly grateful for, as they had been insured against employee theft. And it highlights something that we often forget about the world around us. Whether you're a criminal mastermind or a regular Joe, we all have our secrets. From little white lies to literal skeletons in the closet, everyone has something to hide. Now of course, when it comes to secrets, the spectrum is wide, and some weigh more heavily on the soul than others. So much so that it can be hard for some not to confess. But for anyone who doesn't want to fess up, there is a perfect place for you. You see, out in the middle of an American desert, there is a city where anyone can do just about anything they want. Built from the ground up by mobsters, showgirls and hotel magnates, this neon utopia has become the perfect place to bury your secrets. Because as they say, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, and sometimes for all eternity. I'm Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore Legends. The high school has more claims to fame than most colleges. The Las Vegas Academy for the Arts counts some of Nevada's top judges and politicians amongst its alumni. Its dance team, the Rhythmettes, once performed on the Ed Sullivan Show. And in 1944, the football team had such an unprecedented winning streak that it earned them a place in Ripley's Believe It or Not. But among the Vegas locals, its reputation has less to do with sports programs and more to do with ghosts. The Las Vegas Academy of the Arts first opened simply as Las Vegas High School back in 1930. The Art Deco building was originally constructed to accommodate the huge influx of students that had moved to the area when their families got jobs working on the Hoover Dam. Even after Las Vegas High School moved to a new downtown campus in the 1990s, the original buildings continued to be used as places of learning, this time under the name the Las Vegas Academy for the Arts. And seeing as it's a school for the arts, it only makes sense that the majority of campus hauntings are centered around the Performing Arts Center, which we'll just call the PAC from here on out. The PAC was built as the school's 1500 seat auditorium back in the 1950s. Today it's still just as popular, used by both the Academy's students and the local theater community at large. Because of this, there have been plenty of performers around to witness the strange happenings inside. People have reported walking through sudden cold spots, or feeling unexpected drops in temperature. Others have claimed to see shadows moving on their own and hearing strange sounds coming from the basement. Lights flicker, doors slam, and objects move themselves around. Of course, in such an old building, it would be easy to brush all of this off as the average creepy old building experience. Nothing but drafty doorways, sketchy electrical systems and creaky floors. And if that's all it was, I think we could safely chalk everything up to the overactive imaginations of high school students. But there have also been sightings of something a little harder to ignore. Visible ghosts. For example, in 2014, a teacher named John Morris reported that during a past theatrical production, the director had told him that she was badgered by, and I quote, a small naked Mexican boy, all throughout her performance. According to the director, this boy had been asking her for clothing. Understandably, John told her that she had been imagining things. But later that same night, he began to doubt himself. As one of the teachers in charge of the event, he stayed in the pack after everyone else had cleared out. When it was finally time to lock up, he went to fetch his three-year-old daughter from a different part of the building, only to find her giggling and talking to herself. When he told her that they had to leave, she told him no. She was having a nice time with her new playmates. John looked around and didn't see anyone else in the theater. He assumed that she had conjured up an imaginary friend. That is, until his daughter said, almost offhandedly, It's that little boy over there. He doesn't have any clothes on. But the unclothed boy isn't the only kid who's been spotted hanging around the theater. Others have reported seeing a teenage boy who simply enjoys pulling pranks on the staff. What he's best known for, though, is his remarkable piano playing, which can be heard echoing throughout the halls at all hours. If you ask around, though, the PAC's most famous ghost of all is Mr. Petrie, an older gentleman in a white dinner jacket. Mr. Petrie is the PAC's most frequently spotted spirit, but he could also be thought of as their biggest supporter. He's often seen in the auditorium, sitting in the exact same seat every time, watching dress rehearsals. He's even been known to occasionally shush rowdy teenagers who are distracting him from the show. Nobody knows who Mr. Petrie was when he was alive. Some claim that he was a teacher or an alum who decided to go back to school after he passed away. Others have speculated that his house might have burned down before the school was even built, and that now he's just grateful to have some entertainment to get him through the afterlife. It's debatable just how fortunate Mr. Petrie is to be stuck with nothing but high school drama kids and local theater productions to keep him company. But it's better than nothing. And maybe, after those curtains close, his ghostly friend plays the piano for him. They call it Sin City for a reason. After all, there aren't many cities that can say they were put on the map by a criminal. In that, Las Vegas takes the prize. Bugsy Siegel was one of the most famous mobsters in American history. And before we get into anything else about him, it has to be said, Bugsy wasn't his real name. He was born Ben Siegel and actually preferred it that way. According to the man himself, and I quote, My friends call me Ben, strangers call me Mr. Siegel, and guys I don't like call me Bugsy, but not to my face. Unfortunately for him, although maybe not surprising to anyone else, folks started calling him Bugsy because he had some temper issues that made him, and I quote, crazy as a bedbug. Heck, one of his own friends even compared him to a pistol when he got mad. And I cannot emphasize just how truly violent he could get, murderous even. So perhaps it was a little ironic that he headed the country's foremost murder-for-hire gang named, I kid you not, Murder Inc. If you believe it, though, Murder Inc. wasn't even the worst thing that he was involved in. Over the course of his career, Bugsy gained significant influence with the Jewish mob, the Italian-American mob, and the National Crime Syndicate. He was also pretty cozy with some of the biggest players in the game, like Meyer Lansky and Frank Costello. Basically, he dedicated decades of his life to murder, racketeering, and smuggling. By the mid-1930s, the New York police had caught on to Bugsy's game. They were keeping a close eye on him, so close that he got a bit claustrophobic. So his buddy, Meyer Lansky, suggested that they move out west. In the 1940s, he finally made his way to Vegas, helping manage one of Lansky's horse-bedding rackets. But he soon fell in love with a little desert town. Maybe it had something to do with its charm, but it was probably more related to the fact that gambling was legal there. Legal and popular. Ready to rake in some major dough, Bugsy moved himself and his mistress, a gal named Virginia Hill, out to Vegas. And you have to remember, at this point, it was little more than a dusty backwater, without a neon sign in sight. It certainly wasn't glamorous enough for one of the most powerful criminals in the country. But Bugsy had a vision. With a financial backing from the National Crime Syndicate, he had the resources to make that vision into a reality. With a healthy pile of mafia money, he bought 33 acres of land in Vegas. It was on this stretch of desert, which, by the way, would eventually become the Las Vegas Strip, that he opened a new luxury resort, the Flamingo. Now, there are debates about that name. Some think that it referred to his mistress, while others believe that it was a superstition of his, that those leggy pink birds were a good omen. I'm a fan of the latter, because, let me tell you, this man could sure use a good omen. Bugsy, you see, was a visionary, but not a businessman. This hotel was going to be a reflection of him, and that meant that there was no room for cutting corners. So he spared no expense, and consequently ran out of money before construction was complete. By the time the Flamingo opened its doors in March of 1947, Bugsy was already deep in the red. And not with a bank, mind you, but with the Crime Syndicate, who had bankrolled the entire thing. At this point, the Syndicate's patients had worn pretty thin. They even began to suspect that Bugsy and Virginia had been pocketing the mob's money under the table this entire time. Not a good look when you run with characters of that sort. It was a rough opening, and it took a while for the Flamingo to build up their customer base. The hotel's finances finally started to turn around about three months in, but Bugsy wouldn't be around to see it. Because on June 20th of 1947, while he was staying at Virginia's home in Beverly Hills, California, a volley of bullets crashed through the window and struck the kingpin right in the head. No one knows who pulled the trigger, or who gave the order. To this day, it is still an open case. Most investigators, however, believe that it was the Syndicate who had finally gotten tired of managing Bugsy. But like a bad stain, the mobster ended up being hard to get rid of. You see, not long after his death, Bugsy was seen hanging around the Flamingo Hotel, and from then on out, he just never really went away. Dozens of guests have reported seeing him in the presidential suite, walking around in a smoking jacket. And then, even after the suite was demolished for renovations, Bugsy just moved to other parts of the hotel. Guests have reported hearing a disembodied voice near the pool tables, and some are convinced that it is Bugsy himself complaining about some long-forgotten gambling loss. But his most frequented haunt seems to be outside, with sightings in places like the pool, the gardens, and of course, the wedding chapel. One woman claimed to see him wearing a stuffy-looking wool jacket out by the fountains. She remembered feeling sorry that he was dressed so warmly on a hot day, until another guest passed straight through his body. Oddly, though, she was the only one in the crowd of people to notice the ghost standing in their midst. In the end, the Flamingo is a bittersweet legacy. The luxury resort is part of the very heart of Las Vegas, but it's also the product of a hardened criminal and his obsession with himself. Bugsy Siegel might not have invented the casino or even Las Vegas, but he did create his own persona, complete with all the crimes and legends. Which begs the question, what is Vegas haunted by more, his legacy or his ghost? He was barely getting by. There wasn't much money in running a gas station, and so Whiskey Pete turned to a life of crime instead. And sure, there may have been a middle ground in there somewhere, but if the colorful moniker didn't already clue you in, that's just not the kind of person he was. Whiskey Pete seemed to subscribe to the go big or go home theory, and he applied it to everything, from his nickname to his career path. Despite his propensity for bad decisions, this cantankerous old codger, as he was once described, wasn't interested in the bright lights of Las Vegas. Instead, he set up shop in the Nevada desert, roughly 40 miles outside of Sin City. He figured that nobody would care what he got up to if he was out in the middle of nowhere, and in some ways, he was right. Sort of. Nobody knows when he started bootlegging moonshine, but it would seem that it took a couple of years for the local authorities to catch on. The first time Pete was arrested was in 1918, after he was caught running a speakeasy. Three years later, he earned a six month sentence for smuggling booze. At this point, the locals started to identify him as Whiskey Pete. Between his moonshine business and his personal love of alcohol, the name fit him as well as an old pair of boots. But what started as a funny nickname eventually evolved into a warning. As one might imagine, a man who chose to live in the desert just to sell gas and illegal contraband had his fair share of problems. One of Pete's was that he was an angry drunk. He had a quick temper, a vile tongue, and he wasn't afraid to express himself with a gun. For example, when one woman filed a complaint with the Chamber of Commerce about his refusal to service her car, it was added to the bottom of a very large pile of reports, most of which claiming that he had shot at them. Based on the filings, he usually missed his intended targets, but in 1931, Pete actually succeeded in shooting a customer. The local postmaster, Elgin Bradshaw, had only stopped at the gas station for a cup of coffee. When Pete responded to his request in a hostile manner, Elgin decided to leave. Pete responded by calling him a slur, and when the postmaster turned around to confront him, Pete shot him. Thankfully, Elgin survived, but Whiskey Pete was convicted of assault with a deadly weapon. A month later, though, the charges were dropped. He later claimed that he was paying for all of Elgin's hospital expenses to make up for the incident. There was also trouble at home. In 1932, Pete's wife took him to court for flying into sudden rages all the time. In his defense, Pete said that anyone would do the same if they had caught their wife, and I quote, ...running around naked in the hills with other men. Eloquent as it was, his argument didn't hold up in court. His wife had him committed to a sanitarium, where he was soon diagnosed with severe tuberculosis. Just a year later, Whiskey Pete was dead. Now, according to legend, he made a strange request of his friends before he passed away. Pointing at the hill outside his property, he told them, Bury me up on the hill, standing up, facing the valley. And as an afterthought, he added, Don't forget to put a full bottle of whiskey in the box with me. As the stories tell it, that's exactly what his friends did. But at some point over the years, his grave marker was stolen, leaving future generations with only a vague idea of where his body had been laid, or, I guess, stood up. In 1977, his little gas station was torn down and replaced with something new. Whiskey Pete's Hotel and Casino. And it combined two things that Pete loved. A bit of fame and a lot of booze. Perhaps that's why his ghost has decided to stick around. Whiskey Pete has been spotted all around the casino, with guests describing him as either a crusty old miner or a regular looking guy in khakis. Employees have frequently reported witnessing him hovering over the casino floor, watching the patrons, while others have claimed to see him flick light switches on and off or knock things over in the kitchen. But one thing nobody at the casino has accused Whiskey Pete of being good at is conversation. He seems to have brought his gruff personality with him to the afterlife and refuses to chat with anyone who tries to say hello. That said, while he may not be polite, he's been known to show at least one kindness. Visitors have claimed they've arrived at the hotel with nearly empty tanks of gas, only to return to their cars in the morning and find them full. And I have to say, if those stories are actually true, it's nice to see Whiskey Pete is finally keeping his hands busy with something legal. I think it's fair to say that Las Vegas isn't necessarily known for its subtlety. Big men with big mouths and even bigger tempers. And one could argue that it still is, although they might be a little less conspicuous today. Sin City, with all its glitz and glamour, was built by people who viewed the law less as a rule and more as a suggestion. So it makes sense that those characters rebelled against death itself and have stuck around to keep an eye on the city they helped create. Unfortunately for Whiskey Pete, it would seem that his legacy has soured. In 2025, Whiskey Pete's Casino announced that it would be closing its doors for an undetermined amount of time. The money to keep them operating just wasn't there anymore. But even if the casino was gone, the land will always be known as Whiskey Pete's. After all, his very bones are in the earth. And I mean that quite literally. In 1994, a construction crew actually dug up a wooden coffin. A coffin, by the way, that had been buried standing up. There was no whiskey inside it, just a dusty skeleton, a pair of dentures, and a few old buttons. But despite the lack of booze, there's no doubt in anyone's mind who the remains belong to. It could only be Whiskey Pete. Oh, and if you're curious, they did eventually rebury him. It turns out the cave where he once made Moonshine is pretty close by, and so he was interred there. Thankfully, it's also high up, which means that he ended up getting his dying wish after all. A grave with a view. I hope today's trip to Vegas and beyond gave you a new appreciation for just how dark a place's history can be. It's always eye-opening to learn the stories behind a well-known location, and those tales almost always seem to include a bit of folklore. Now, clearly, there's no shortage of views in the Nevada desert, even if you're dead. Whether it's on a theatrical stage, in a penthouse, or on top of a sandy hill, you can count on Vegas to always give you a show. But there are other sites to be had, aside from just the skyline. And if you're lucky, you might just see a legend. And since you pay to skip the ads, I can tell you all about it right now. They say it's where the legends go to play. The grand opening of the International Hotel in 1969 featured the musical stylings of the great Barbara Streisand. And after that first night, she stayed on for a few weeks, drumming up excitement for the Fledgling Hotel. But of course, she couldn't stick around forever. As soon as her contract ended, the International Hotel kicked off an intense advertising campaign for their newest artist in residence. And it must be said, they were really taking a chance with this guy. He'd been on a nine-year hiatus, and his old hits were feeling a bit stale. But the hotel wasn't willing to lose the name recognition they had gained with Streisand, or all the patrons that had come with it. So the new guy was just going to have to try his best. And so, for the first time in nearly a decade, he stepped out onto the stage. The man, the myth, the legend himself, Elvis Presley. According to comedian Sammy Shore, who performed as his opening act, Elvis's hands were clammy before going on. He was nervous, maybe more nervous than he'd been since he started performing. But they didn't call him the king for nothing. By the end of his 15-song set, Elvis had the entire crowd on its feet. One man shouted, You're still number one, as the rest of the crowd roared his name. The critics seemed to be in agreement with the audience, too, giving the performance rave reviews. And Elvis' brother, who had been in attendance that night, claimed that he, and I quote, never knew his big brother could rock and roll like he did that first night in Vegas. The show was such a hit that the very next day, the International Hotel offered a new deal to Elvis' manager. They gave him a five-year contract with two nightly performances for just two months a year, all for a total of $125,000 per week. That's a cool million bucks every year for those keeping track. Plus, on top of the cash, the hotel offered him the use of their Imperial Suite whenever he was in town, which means that while Vegas was far from the only patron to ever stay on the 30th floor, he was the most famous. In fact, to this day, it's still called the Elvis Suite. And of course, he took the deal. A million bucks for two months of work was a no-brainer, even for someone as rich as Elvis Presley. So for five years straight, every August and February, he performed twice a night at the International Hotel. According to his brother, he left so much of his soul on that stage. He gave so much of himself. Elvis left a mark, which might be why he never truly left the building. You see, despite the fact that Elvis died all the way across the country in his Memphis mansion, guests and employees alike have spotted him over the years at the International Hotel. He's been most frequently seen on the casino floor and strutting through the hotel hallways. And it would be easy to write him off as a visiting Elvis impersonator, after all Vegas has flooded with them. But people have enough evidence to disprove that theory. First of all, he isn't always seen in public spaces. Instead, he's spotted in his home away from home, the Elvis Suite. Guests claim to have seen an apparition of Elvis walking through the room, and some say that they even hear his music drifting through the air. Elvis' spirit is also frequently reported in the backstage freight elevator of the hotel theater. According to witnesses, he starts out looking as solid as any other person before slowly fading away. One former employee said that once while she was backstage, she saw the best Elvis impersonator she had ever seen. She wanted to tell him that he was a dead ringer for the king, but before she could approach him, he walked over to her. Once he got within a foot or so, she was suddenly hit by a wave of cold. She tried to ask if he felt the chill as well, but her words were caught in her throat because the Elvis in front of her was slowly dissolving, disappearing before her very eyes. Now, all that said, the most famous witness to spot Elvis' ghost was actually one of his friends. Wayne Newton had his own Vegas residency at the hotel, and he admitted to seeing Elvis once during that time. He had been singing Are You Lonesome Tonight when he was nearly blinded by a flash of light from the balcony. Once his eyes adjusted, he claimed to see his old friend standing there wearing the exact same jumpsuit as his statue in the lobby. And the experience made him think about their last conversation just before the singer had passed away. Elvis had told him, I don't know how many songs I've got left to sing. Just remember, it's yours now. It's all yours. This episode of Lore Legends was produced by me, Aaron Mahnke, with writing by Alex Robinson and Aaron Mahnke, and research by Jamie Vargas. Just a reminder, I have a brand new history book coming out on August 4th that's called Exhumed, and it explores the roots of the New England vampire panic through the lens of centuries of folklore, medical advancements, and pseudoscience. And it's available right now for pre-order, and if you pre-order the hardcover, my publisher has a webpage set up where you can submit your receipts and get a free, gorgeous tote bag. You can head over to aaronmahnke.com/exhumed to lock in your copy today, find a link to that tote bag giveaway, and even see the beautiful cover. Don't like hearing ads on Lore? Well, there's a paid version available on Apple podcasts and Patreon that is 100% ad-free. Subscribers also get weekly mini bonus episodes called Lore Bites, and Patreon members specifically get discounts on Lore merch and access to my inbox. Learn more over at lorepodcast.com/supports. And lastly, you can find this show and follow it on social media platforms like YouTube, Threads, Blue Sky, and Instagram. Just search for Lore Podcast, all one word, and then click that follow button. And when you do, say hi. I like it when people say hi. And as always, thanks for listening.