Written By Mauricio Segura // Image Created By: The Golden Bay Times Graphics Dept.
Somewhere along a lonely stretch of Nevada highway, where the desert seems to go on forever and civilization occasionally feels like a rumor, there's a motel that practically dares you to spend the night. Its welcoming committee consists of thousands of painted smiles, colorful wigs, oversized shoes, and eyes that seem to follow you around the room. Welcome to the Clown Motel in Tonopah, where checking in is easy, but getting a good night's sleep might require a little courage.
Located roughly halfway between Las Vegas and Reno, the Clown Motel has earned the nickname "America's Scariest Motel," and it certainly makes a convincing first impression. A giant clown-themed sign announces your arrival, while the lobby houses an enormous collection of clown dolls, figurines, paintings, and memorabilia. Some are cheerful reminders of childhood circuses and birthday parties. Others look like they were designed by someone who watched one too many horror movies. And just when you think you've seen enough, you discover the historic cemetery right next door.
Believe it or not, this peculiar roadside attraction began with something surprisingly touching. In 1985, siblings Leona and Leroy David opened a motel beside the Old Tonopah Cemetery, where their father, Clarence David, was buried. Clarence had loved collecting clowns, and his children decided to honor his memory by displaying approximately 150 pieces from his collection. What started as a family tribute would eventually become one of America's strangest places to spend the night.
Clarence's story reaches back to Tonopah's rough-and-tumble mining days. According to cemetery records, he died on February 23, 1911, during the devastating Belmont Mine fire that claimed 17 lives. He was only 40 years old. Today, his grave lies just beyond the motel grounds, a reminder that behind the colorful costumes and painted faces is a genuine piece of Nevada history. The motel's own historical account gives a conflicting death year of 1942, but the cemetery's documented record identifies the 1911 disaster.
The cemetery itself is worth exploring, even for visitors who couldn't care less about ghosts. Established in 1901, it contains the graves of miners, pioneers, and residents who lived through Tonopah's early boom years. Among them are victims of the mysterious 1905 Tonopah plague and men killed in mining accidents. Their weathered grave markers tell stories of hardship, ambition, and lives cut short in a town once driven by the promise of silver. It's fascinating history, though perhaps not the most comforting view from a motel window.
Over the decades, the Clown Motel developed a personality as unusual as its decorations. Bob and Deborah Perchetti purchased the property in 1995, and Bob became closely associated with the attraction for more than two decades. The motel gained wider attention after appearing on the television series Ghost Adventures in 2015. Suddenly, paranormal enthusiasts, curious travelers, and people with questionable vacation judgment were making Tonopah a destination rather than merely a place to buy gasoline.
The motel changed hands again in 2019 when the Mehar family purchased it and began expanding its collection and renovating its accommodations. Today, the collection has grown to more than 5,000 clown-related items, according to Tonopah tourism officials. The rooms range from conventional accommodations decorated with clown artwork to horror-themed experiences inspired by films such as The Exorcist, Halloween, Friday the 13th, and It. Apparently, sleeping beside a cemetery surrounded by clowns wasn't quite unsettling enough.
Then there are the ghost stories. Guests and paranormal investigators have reported unexplained footsteps, mysterious voices, flickering lights, and strange movements. Room 217 has attracted particular attention because of eerie incidents described by motel staff and visitors. Other accounts involve unusual noises coming from supposedly empty rooms. These stories are part of the property's appeal, although none establishes that supernatural activity actually occurs. An old building can make strange sounds, and an overactive imagination can turn an innocent shadow into something considerably more sinister.
Yet there's something wonderfully nostalgic about the whole experience. The Clown Motel belongs to an older tradition of American roadside attractions, when independently owned businesses competed for passing motorists with giant statues, unusual collections, and promises of sights you couldn't find anywhere else. Long before travel influencers and viral videos, places like this gave families reasons to pull off the highway and discover something delightfully ridiculous.
And perhaps that's the Clown Motel's greatest trick. Beneath its spooky reputation lies a story about family, remembrance, local history, and the enduring appeal of America's weird little roadside treasures. Whether you believe in ghosts or simply appreciate a good old-fashioned oddity, Tonopah offers a memorable stop in the Nevada desert. Just remember to turn off the lights before bed, resist the temptation to count the clowns, and try not to worry if one seems to be smiling a little differently in the morning.
For travelers brave enough to book a room, the Clown Motel is located at 521 N. Main Street in Tonopah, Nevada, along U.S. Highway 95, approximately halfway between Las Vegas and Reno. Nightly rates vary depending on the room, season, and availability, with specialty horror-themed accommodations generally costing more than standard rooms. Current prices can be confirmed directly with the motel before booking. Reservations and additional information are available by calling (775) 624-9098 or emailing hello@theclownmotelusa.com. The front desk operates daily from 8:30 a.m. to 11 p.m., and advance arrangements are recommended for late arrivals. Visitors can also stop by to admire the clown collection without spending the night, which might be the wiser choice for anyone who prefers their nightmares to remain strictly imaginary.
