When planning media events for new hotel openings or ship inaugurals, finding a news hook is always the primary goal, and such was the case for the introduction of the Chateau oceanfront resort at Miami Beach.

We suggested — and the owner complied — with a 24-hour hiring of a noted chef whose newsworthiness (and price) was recently enhanced when he won a major TV game show. The “Miami Herald” readily agreed to send a photographer to photograph the introduction, and sure enough the following day’s edition prominently carried a four-column photo of the event.

The caption reported “… at a Miami Beach hotel” without naming the property.

Needless to say, the owner did not extend the contract.

During the early days of our practice, we experienced our share of bizarre wannabe clients.

Especially memorable was the elderly French lady, claiming to be a colleague of the late Madame Eve Curie, who asked us to publicize her food-synthesizing talents which included, among other forms of culinary alchemy, converting carrots into orange marmalade and beets into chicken liver. She was an excellent cook, but failed chemistry 101.

Another, this time a French man, but equally certifiable, desired to retain us to publicize his voyage between Miami and Bimini, Bahamas, on a raft propelled by a shark!

We politely declined, but he found another more naiive — or perhaps more imaginative — publicist.

On the appointed day, with a sizeable gathering of reporters and photographers in attendance, the Frenchman attempted to harness a nurse shark to his raft, but the unappreciative fish turned in its harness, nipped the would be skipper in the leg then took off, raft in tow, for destinations unknown.

Knowing your history sometimes can pay off in public relations.

Although more than a quarter-century has passed, the mock “secession” — and resulting founding of Key West’s “Conch Republic” — remains a classic example of turning potential disaster into opportunity.

When the U.S. Border Patrol established a surprise roadblock on U.S. Highway 1 at the entrance to the Florida Keys, trapping tourists as well as drug runners and alien smugglers, Keys tourism and government officials went ballistic.

Key West had refused to join the Confederacy; I suggested that this time the city should secede from the Union.

In response to a call from the city’s mayor to “do something before tourist business collapses,” I remembered
an incident from the Keys’ history during the Civil War when Key West refused to join the rest of Florida in the Confederacy and proclaimed allegiance to the Union. The real reason: a garrison of Union troops at Fort Zachary Taylor in Key West.

Harking back 150 years, I suggested that this time the city should secede from the Union. The mayor was shocked until I explained it would be a mock secession. The Key Westers, who love nothing more than a reason to throw a party, caught on quickly and came up with the Conch Republic, and the rest is history.

The spoof attracted national and even international media attention, and a sheepish Border Patrol folded up its roadblock at midnight.

Not only the wire services and U.S. networks, but even BBC television covered the event, which lives on today in an annual Conch Republic Independence Day anniversary celebration that has become a significant tourist draw for the Southernmost City.

Creative public relations can, and often does, draw upon many resources and I can recall at least two instances when a bear and an elephant became stars while publicizing an event.

At a Miami Beach sports and travel show in the late 1960s, in addition to fly-casting demonstrations, golf venues and personal appearances by former Cleveland Indians pitcher Bob Feller, a dancing bear named Rosie attracted considerable attention with her terpsichorean antics.

A Miami Herald city editor accepted my suggestion of an “interview” with Rosie, and I arranged to drive her and her trainer to the city room. At the last minute he had a conflict, but said, “Hey you can drive her to the paper yourself.”

Not surprisingly, whenever we stopped for a traffic light, other motorists gaped at the unusual sight and sounded their horns.

He finally convinced me Rosie wouldn’t mistake me for lunch, so I set off for the Herald building with a muzzled Rosie in the passenger seat. Not surprisingly, whenever we stopped for a traffic light, other motorists gaped at the unusual sight and sounded their horns. The only thing that would have surprised them more was if the bear had been driving and the human the passenger.

At our destination I managed to lead Rosie into an elevator to the second-floor city room where immediately pandemonium broke out.

The Herald’s chief photographer suggested seating Rosie at the desk of the business editor, who had a somewhat bearlike resemblance, and he photographed her amid much merriment among the staffers, which noise in the newsroom caught the attention of the publisher, John S. Knight.

Viewing the scene, he exclaimed, “What’s this all about, Stuart? I thought all of your clients were hotels!”

“Mr. Knight,” I replied, “this bear just bought an ocean front hotel!”

But the stunt produced the desired results, with a photo and caption appearing in the “Herald” that generated interest and attendance for the sports and travel show.

And the elephant? Well, we’ll relate than saga another time.