In the lonely, high-desert heart of Nevada, situated almost exactly midway between the neon-drenched escapism of Las Vegas and the more tempered charms of Reno, lies a roadside stop that has achieved near-legendary status in the annals of “dark tourism.” The Clown Motel in Tonopah, a mining town with a rich but somber history, has fully embraced its reputation as “America’s Scariest Motel.” This transformation is driven by a new ownership dedicated to enhancing the hotel’s macabre atmosphere, which is defined by thousands of glassy-eyed clown figurines and, critically, its unsettling proximity to the historic Tonopah Cemetery. The latest reports indicate the motel is actively catering to the paranormal community, with themed rooms, rental of ghost-hunting equipment, and perhaps most chillingly, the explicit inclusion of objects like the Ouija board in its dark-tourism packages, solidifying its standing as the quintessential destination for seekers of fright.
A Cemetery View: The Unsettling Genesis of the Motel
The unique and profoundly unsettling nature of the Clown Motel is impossible to separate from its geographical foundation. The motel was originally built in 1985 by siblings Leona and Leroy David as a tribute to their late father, Clarence David, a devoted clown enthusiast who had passed away after working in the Tonopah mines. They decorated the rooms with his initial collection of approximately 150 clown figurines.
The pivotal, chilling detail that gives the motel its lasting notoriety is its location: the property sits directly adjacent to the Old Tonopah Cemetery, a burial ground dating back to 1901. This cemetery is the final resting place for victims of the 1905 “Tonopah Plague” and, most famously, the 17 miners who perished in the devastating Belmont Mine Fire of 1911, including the original owners’ father. The proximity has created an unshakable narrative—fueled by local lore and paranormal investigation shows—that the motel is a hotbed of spiritual activity, with the glassy-eyed clowns serving as potential vessels or magnets for the restless souls of the historic miners buried just steps away.
The Current Macabre Makeover: Thousands of New Residents
The current iteration of the Clown Motel is a far cry from the small, tribute-themed hotel opened by the David siblings. Under new ownership, the motel has undergone a rapid and deliberate transformation into a full-scale tourist attraction that monetizes its reputation for terror. The number of clown figurines has ballooned from a few hundred to well over 4,000, with dolls, masks, and statues covering every available surface, from the lobby walls to the individual rooms.
This expanded collection includes both donations from people across the world, often accompanied by their own unsettling backstories, and new pieces designed to enhance the motif of fear. Crucially, the motel now features specific themed rooms, dedicating entire suites to horror icons like Pennywise from Stephen King’s It, and themes like The Exorcist. The exterior has been similarly dramatized, featuring towering, 19-foot clown cutouts and striking circus-themed colors, all designed to ensure that the motel’s identity as a bizarre and unnerving destination is immediately evident to anyone driving the lonely desert highway between Las Vegas and Reno.
Paranormal Tourism and the Ouija Board Draw
The most recent news reports highlight the motel’s overt marketing pivot toward the paranormal research and “ghost hunting” community. The owners understand that the true draw for many visitors is not the clowns themselves, but the promise of an authentic, terrifying brush with the supernatural, facilitated by the cemetery next door and the town’s long history of tragic events.
To this end, the motel now actively offers ghost-hunting kits for rent, including tools like EMF (Electromagnetic Field) readers, spirit boxes, and, most notably, the inclusion of Ouija boards in specialized packages. The Ouija board, a controversial spiritual tool associated in popular culture with opening portals to the unknown, is a bold and explicit invitation for guests to engage directly with the alleged spirits of the miners and the “Trickster” entity said to haunt the property. This marketing move not only boosts the motel’s revenue from its niche audience but also solidifies its status as a destination for the most dedicated extreme travelers seeking guaranteed thrills and chills, positioning it squarely at the intersection of kitsch and authentic fright.
The Tonopah Context: Beyond the Clowns
While the clowns and the cemetery provide the visual hook, the overall haunted reputation of the area stems from the rich and often tragic history of the surrounding town of Tonopah. The motel is part of a larger, authentic dark tourism ecosystem that extends throughout the former silver-mining boomtown.
The most intense and frequently reported hauntings occur at the Mizpah Hotel, a lavish structure built in 1907 that now operates as a restored luxury inn. Guests and staff there regularly report encounters with the ghost of “The Lady in Red,” a prostitute who was purportedly murdered on the fifth floor. Furthermore, the Tonopah Historic Mining Park, which preserves the head frames and shafts of the original silver mines, is steeped in the stories of the men who died underground. The Clown Motel, therefore, acts as a gateway to this broader narrative of Western frontier tragedy, where the constant sense of unease and historical death is arguably a more potent source of the paranormal activity than the legions of ceramic and fiberglass clowns.
