Sandra Giles

1956

The Fremont in Las Vegas commissioned a large oil painting that depicted a “lady of chance” to grace a wall in its casino.

The hotel’s press agent, Shelly Davis, asked aspiring actress Sandra Giles to pose for the piece for renowned artist, Philip Paval.

During the hotel’s grand opening, the piece of art was unveiled. It showed the voluptuous Giles nude, lying provocatively on her back with gambling chips scattered on and around her body.

“I don’t want to be a Marilyn Monroe! I want to be an actress. I didn’t pose that way! I wore a bathing suit,” the blonde 22-year-old yelled.

Giles slapped Paval then Davis. The painting’s debut had unexpectedly evolved into a jackpot for the roughly 100 news people there covering it.

Paval explained that, yes, Giles’ intimate body parts had been covered during the sitting, so he’d used his imagination and artistic license to render her naked.

An irate Giles sued the Fremont and Paval for $250,000, claiming she’d suffered “mental anguish” and “humiliation” when the picture was revealed.  She later claimed the attention she’d garnered from it led to her breakup with boyfriend, Harold Lloyd, Jr., a famous actor and singer.

The story was reported nationwide and even made the front page of the Los Angeles Times.

About three weeks later, the Fremont’s president, Ed Levinson, paid Giles $15,000 in silver dollars during a news conference as settlement. (Paval had received $2,500 for creating the piece.)

This outlandish sequence of events, though, had been a stunt that Davis dreamed up and staged and Giles, Paval and Levinson had been in on. This scoop came out years later in the brief biography, “From Hooker to Hollywood,” by Michael Piller.

Sources

Dennis Day

1951

The Irish tenor, Dennis Day, was about to begin a singing engagement at downtown Reno’s Riverside hotel in the summer of 1951. Day is known for his appearances on the Jack Benny comedy show and his own television show, A Day in the Life of Dennis Day.

To promote his performances, he participated in a photo shoot for local media. Dashing in a suit and tie, he creatively posed for the cameras, sometimes with beautiful women, others without, but always beside a red wheelbarrow allegedly filled with 25,000 silver dollars, said to be his salary for the two-week gig.

About 30 minutes into the shoot, Day suddenly upended the wheelbarrow and poured its contents into the hotel’s swimming pool. As the silver dollars cascaded through the green water to the bottom, casino manager Myrton “Mert” Wertheimer and hotel manager Arthur Allen sprinted over to Day.  

“What do you think you’re fooling with—hay?” yelled an outraged Wertheimer.

“It’s supposed to be my money. I’ve been kept waiting an hour for this deal, and I have an appointment with a doctor. My throat is sore,” Day said then quickly retreated.

Within minutes, Wertheimer had people diving for and recovering the coins from the pool for fear they’d rust.

“Proof that Day’s action wasn’t in the script was furnished by the photographers themselves, who were so flabbergasted, they didn’t catch a picture of the silver sliding into the briny,” wrote reporter John Burns (Nevada State Journal, July 18, 1951).

It wasn’t until much later that Wertheimer and Allen saw the humor in Day’s stunt. Though they probably wanted to, they didn’t fire Day, who likely received his pay in the form of a check.

Sources