Little is known of McIntire's early life, but by age 20 he had somehow obtained a pub central Ontario. He quickly used the building to its full advantages, and also used it as a brothel. Known for his lewd and often drunken behavior, he quickly became well known in the area as quite the character. One man coined him as "the wittiest drunk in Canada." While profits were usually good, he usually wasted the money on his own alcohol and women. A man who took very little in life seriously, he often criticized "stiffs" who would visit his establishments by saying, "Bah, loosen up ya' trolls."
When the Second Seven Years War started in 1802, profits immediately went through the roof, since British soliders commonly used McIntire's Pub; in a short time, he became quite wealthy. Investing in gambling, his pub quickly became well known throughout the region, and was occasionally visted by General Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington himself. He famously greeted General Wellington with the simple phrase "What'll ya have Genr'l? Whiskey, bourbon? Sorry, we ain't got no tea." In 1808, McIntire's Pub was captured by the American army under General Hunter DeRensis, Duke of Winterfell. Often taking in the pub's "prettier" accomodations, the Duke and McIntire became fast friends. It was at this time that the Duke learned that McIntire had a wealth of information about the British army by listening to them when they use to enjoy his services. McIntire willingly gave the Duke all the information he wanted, proclaiming that although he was a British citizen, he had always been an American at heart. The Duke passed this information onto General "Mad" Anthony Wayne who was fighting Wellington in Quebec, with the information about troop sizes and command posts proved crucial in several major battles.
When the war was over and Ontario was given independence under Louis Bonaparte, the Duke returned to McIntire's Pub along with General Wayne. Wayne was suffering from a recent jaw injury caused by falling off his horse, causing him to slur his words often. Both congradulated McIntire on his service to the American cause, and awarded him with several medals on the personal order of King Andrew I. During most of this "ceremony" McIntire remained strangely quiet (he had gotten very drunk the night before) and he mostly said thanks to every compliment given to him by Wayne and DeRensis. Finally, when Wayne left the room to saddle his horse, McIntire, stinking of whiskey, pointed at the door and said "God damn, I think he's drunk!"
DeRensis, returning to his home in Pennsylvania after the war, continued to correspond often with McIntire through letters. The pub remained open, and became a national sensation in Ontario. Reaping the financial rewards, it wasn't unusual for McIntire to spend countless dollars on strange items that caught his fancy; these included several dogs which he allowed to roam freely in the pub, and a "thrown" made of iron that he was accustomed to sit on while drinking in the center of the room.
On Christmas Eve, 1811, McIntire hosted a huge banquiet at his pub, and hundreds reportedly attended the small establishment throughout the night. As usual, he took in as much alcohol as he could, and reportedly "danced the night away with one of his favorite girls." But in all of this ruckess, McIntire, in his usual drunken foulishness, spilled an entire pint of whiskey onto a government official. The official, his name lost to history, demanded an apology. McIntire refused to give one, and the argument escalated. Eventually, McIntire, in a state of drunkenness, challenged the official to a "duel to the death." The official quickly accepted, and it was agreed that the duel be held the next morning, Christmas Day.
As much as the locals tried to sober him up, McIntire attended the duel, in front of his own pub, fully drunk; some said he could barely stand or hold the pistol. After taking the necessary steps backword, the two turned around and fired; McIntire's shot went into the forrest several yards off, while the official's struck directly into McIntire's chest. He fell back into the cold snow, his fresh blood pierceing its pure and perfect whiteness. As people gathered around (dozens attended the duel), he simply lifted his head off the ground, and slurred "Merry Christmas, you bastards." His head dropped, and he died at the young age of 32.
The Duke (who would later become Prime Minister of the URAS) was heartbroken at the loss of such a good friend, and made sure that the pub went into the hands of one of McIntire's favorite girls who he had impregnated with his son shortly before his death. On his death, DeRensis said, "In the usual coarse of things, men who sin when they're drunk pay when they're sober. Andrew was of course too smart for this; he was drunk till the second he passed." McIntire has gained a great following amongst historians for his character and wit.