Joanne met him in a night club, dated him one night when Jolson was busy elsewhere. He began to take up more and more of her time. Then she married him. It was at about the time he began to click on the radio. He did okay. He is now a top Hollywood star. His name is Dick Haymes. And Joanne is now Joan Dru, married to her second husband, actor John Ireland. Earlier in this chapter, we implied that models are dumb. Most of them are. But one who was no dope was a blue-eyed rusty-mop who graduated from the local high school in Canton, N.C., at 13. Dumb, did we say? High school is correct. She finished it at 13. Her name was Marianne Grey. The next year, she matriculated at the University of Wisconsin, its youngest student. She majored in archeology--bone-dry digging up of things long dead. She got her degree in three years, at 17. Luckily, all her spadework couldn't retard her physical development. She had curves and dimples wherever bewitching beauts at 17 can grow curves and dimples. Carefully packing her sheepskin in mothballs, Marianne, the tomb-expert, set out to rummage around in the living world. She found it strangely clammy to specialists on mummies. It might, though, find itself short of curves and dimples, red hair and blue eyes. So Marianne Grey changed her diploma-distinguished name to Marianne Simms and headed for Broadway, where she registered it on the rolls of Powers' models. All students of the Sunday supplements know these dolls get around and everybody looks at them. In her peregrinations, she met Sinclair Lewis, who, captivated more by her ravishments than by her knowledge of King Tut, brought her to the attention of Edna and Red Skelton. They signed her to a personal contract pronto, brought her to Hollywood for a projected radio show--Skeltons instead of skeletons. The show didn't materialize. But David O. Selznick did. The great producer offered a screen test. Literate as well as gorgeous, the youngster wrote the script of the test, and in it she challenged the camera. When she signed the contract, her name was changed again--to Cristofa Sims and she became a Hollywood favorite. WISDOM OF A WHITE WAY WOLF: Smart guys seldom escort Powers, Thornton or Conover models. The cover gals arise so early to keep working appointments that, along about midnight, as the party gets in high, they suggest you take them home. Chorines and show gals are indicated for night owls. Models are for chumps who crave to show off with orchidaceous bric-a-brac. 19. SECOND FROM THE END So many millions of inspirational and incoherent words are annually written in raves over New York's chorus gals that the time has come to do a little debunking. 1. Our chorines are not the prettiest girls in the world. 2. Nor are they the most immoral-- 3. Or the most stupid. 4. They are usually poor dressers. 5. Few have passable gowns. 6. A small number live in penthouses. 7. Fewer win rich patrons or sweeties.