For decades, the lights of Primm, Nevada, were the first sign that Vegas was near. Crossing the Mojave on I-15, travelers saw the glow long before the Strip appeared. It was the teaser to the main show, slots that jingled past midnight, cheap buffets, and hotel towers promising comfort before the next stretch of highway.
But time changes what the desert rewards. The traffic still passes, but fewer cars turn off. Weekdays fall silent, rides sit idle, and the wind moves louder than the crowd once did. What remains is a town that still believes it has another hand to play.
A Border Boomtown Built on Momentum
Primm once thrived as the first legal taste of Las Vegas for Californians crossing the border. Day-trippers filled low-stakes tables, raided all-you-can-eat breakfasts, and rolled back onto I-15 with lighter wallets and full stomachs. The formula worked, until it didn’t.
Travel habits shifted. Road trips shortened. Rising costs and the pandemic’s shock cut weekday business in half. The model of volume-driven gambling crumbled almost overnight. A place built for pit stops was suddenly skipped altogether.
Buffalo Bill’s: A Theme Park Hotel Without a Pulse
Buffalo Bill’s wasn’t just another desert casino. Its frontier design and towering yellow coaster, Desperado, gave it character that most highway stops never had. Families came for the rides as much as the roulette.
Now the resort only opens for select concerts and special weekends to keep its gaming license active. Between events, the lobby stays dark. The roller coaster, once one of the tallest in the world, hasn’t run since the pandemic. The silence where its scream once echoed tells the whole story, excitement paused, not yet erased.
Whiskey Pete’s: The First Bet That Finally Folded
Whiskey Pete’s was Primm’s foundation. Seven hundred seventy-seven rooms, a 24-hour café, and the kind of desert kitsch that made it memorable to anyone who stopped there.
By late 2024, the hotel closed its doors. County officials later granted a long-term waiver allowing it to stay shut while owners rethink its future. The reason was simple: weekday demand vanished, and keeping three hotels open for weekend gamblers made no financial sense.
What’s left is a dark tower and a name that still hangs heavy with nostalgia.
Jean, Nevada: Where Leisure Made Way for Logistics
A few miles north, Jean tells the same story without the lights. Its long-closed Gold Strike Hotel (later rebranded Terrible’s) has been reduced to rubble. Demolition began in 2024 to clear land for industrial projects.
For decades, the glowing marquee served as a rest stop landmark between Los Angeles and Las Vegas. Today, trucks speed past where buffets and blackjack tables once stood. The highway kept moving, and leisure didn’t keep up.
Primm Valley: Bonnie and Clyde’s Car and a Handful of Staff
Inside Primm Valley Resort, the famous bullet-riddled Ford that once carried Bonnie and Clyde still draws a few curious travelers. It’s the only constant in a property pared to its bones.
Visitors now describe seeing one bartender and one waitress keeping the floor alive. Management is betting on a slow rebuild, upgraded rooms, a trimmed dining lineup, and weekend concerts instead of daily operations. It’s a pivot to survival mode, not surrender.
The Outlet Mall That Lost Its Foot Traffic
Next to the casinos, Prizm Outlets once sprawled across 380,000 square feet of discount shops and food courts. A modern rebrand added murals and influencer-friendly photo spots, but it wasn’t enough.
By mid-2025, nearly every store had closed. The last tenant switched off its lights that summer, leaving only murals and a silent air-conditioned shell. The loss stung, it had been Primm’s last easy reason for a pit stop that didn’t involve gambling.
A New Sign and a Quiet Comeback Plan
The new owners, Affinity Interactive, haven’t given up. Their plan centers on the Primm Valley property, renovated rooms, refreshed event space, and a couple of traveler-friendly restaurants.
The centerpiece is a three-sided LED marquee standing nearly 100 feet tall at mile marker one. It faces more than 50,000 drivers a day with one message: We’re still here.
They’re pitching a new kind of stop, charge your EV, grab dinner, hear live music, less “mini Vegas,” more modern travel hub.
The Vegas Connection That Still Defines Its Fate
Las Vegas itself remains strong, drawing more than 41 million visitors in 2024. But a small dip in 2025 passenger traffic at Harry Reid International Airport, down several percentage points year over year, hits border towns like Primm first.
When Vegas wobbles, the fringe markets feel the tremor immediately. If the planned second airport south of the valley opens in the 2030s, it could revive flow through the state line again. Until then, Primm’s future depends on reinvention, not nostalgia.
What Primm’s Story Says About Desert Tourism
Primm’s decline isn’t about failure so much as timing. It lived in the space between two generations of travelers, the road-trip families who once stopped for buffets and the digital nomads who now book everything on their phones.
Whether it fades further or finds its next act will depend on how well it can evolve from detour to destination. For now, the neon still flickers at the border, waiting for someone to pull off again.
