Continuing the Mapes Hotel story: Whether it was Roy Rogers, sipping decorously from a water tumbler full of vodka-no ice at a Sky Room Press Conference, Shirley Temple taking to the dance floor there to try her skills to the music of Eddie Fitzpatrick or multi-millionaire Wilbur May laughing at the repartee of comedian Jim Backus (Mr. Magoo) in the corner booth at the south end of the bar or Del Webb’s wedding ceremony in a Mapes’ suite (crashed by premier Reno newshound, Bill Berry) the Mapes was redolent with memories.
Bill Pechart led a cadre of casino caliphs that included Bernie Einstoss, Ruby Mathis, Red Munley, Baldy West, Jimmy Metrovich and countless others. No story about the Mapes would be complete without mentioning at least a couple of the bartenders—Bud Von Hatten and Jimmy Mask. Likewise some of their “regulars”—Al Barbagelata, Frank McCulloch, Pete Barengo, Hughes Porter and Larry Devencenzi.
If you graduated from High School in Reno in the ‘Fifties or the ‘Sixties, you probably had your Prom in the Sky Room. If you are an alumnus of U of N, then you Homecoming partied in the Fable Room. If you went out to Sunday brunch or Thanksgiving Dinner most likely it was in the Sky Room. If you had your first romantic date for dinner and a show it probably occurred with the stars, among the stars at the top of the Mapes.
Then is the Mapes a mere myth in our minds or is it truly the mystical place where sweet dreams and unforgettable memories were born?
During the time the Mapes was vacant, I had occasion to pen the following: “Yesterday I passed an old friend as she was standing by the Virginia Street Bridge.
I don’t think she noticed me because her eyes—that once danced sith light and sparkle as she gazed down on the fast-moving water—now seemed blank and vacant, like the windows in an empty building. Indeed, her whole appearance was one of seediness and neglect. Oh, the fine lines and imposing mien were still there, but they wore the smudges and stains of grime and exposure to the harsh Nevada elements.
Could it actually be less than fifty years ago that she first burst onto the Nevada scene? Was it only a few decades ago that she had been the darling of Virginia Street: courted by royalty, entertainers, athletes and politicians? Were her memorable parties, fine dining and whirlwind romances gone forever?
As she stood, so forlorn and unwanted at the river’s edge, I felt a pang of sorrow for her – for what she had once been. She could no longer see. Neither could she hear or respond.
I walked on and left her there—draped in her faded elegance.
Her name?
The Mapes Hotel.”
Over her brief life span, many special events and promotions had their genesis inside her walls. Several of those were hatched at the daily kaffee klatch in the Coffee Shop. Regular attendees were DA Bill Raggio, Chamber of Commerce head man Judd Allen along with several newspaper types. One of the most spectacular was when Allen introduced a videographer from Chicago, who was to film a 60-minute commercial about Reno and the surrounding area that was to be paid for by the Chamber. It aired in the United Airlines TV schedule. Since I was producing a number of local TV commercials at that time, Allen asked me to assemble a cast for the production. During the meeting I chanced to overhear the Chicagoan whisper to Allen, “He’d be perfect.” When I asked if they were referring to me, the videographer said, “Yes, we need an older guy.” I said, “Thanks, but I am not interested. I prefer to stay behind the camera.” He replied, “Too bad. We’d be able to make you a member of SAG. (Screen Actors Guild) and you would receive compensation every time the commercial was shown.” That caused me to reconsider.
The only problem with filming was that it was to be done in August and the high point of the commercial was to feature skiing at Squaw Valley. With the help of my friend, Larry Baillargeon, who was a professional ski instructor, we assembled a cast of six men and six women and outfitted them in heavy ski clothing. The entire cast assembled at 7 am at the old Pioneer Lodge and we were bussed to Squaw. Arriving on a very warm day, we were ushered in to the Lodge for a shot in front of a roaring fireplace. Then we were whisked to the top of the mountain, which was completely devoid of snow. I was given a pair of ski poles and instructed to act as if I was “pushing off” while a mass of soap chips substituting for snowflakes were blown in my face. I couldn’t figure how this would play out but when the spot was previewed at the Granada Theatre several weeks later in conjunction with the premier of “The Downhill Racer” starring Robert Redford and Gene Hackman, I was surprised to see that the spot opened with the aforementioned scene and quickly dissolved to a snow-covered mountain with a skier dressed in red sweater and black ski pants do a series of ski turns down the mountainside. I found out that my “double” was one Jean-Claude Killy, who was under contract to the airlines. The next stop was for a nightclub scene at the Cal-Neva Lodge, Lake Tahoe and the closing shot was staged around midnight with down Reno and Harold’s Club in the background.
The spot was so successful that it ran for two years including two Super Bowl games.
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