sure.” She told friends they were getting married and bought herself a dress. By April 1946 Gloria Conover, twenty-four, was in Reno. Proclaiming that Harry was still her best friend, she sued him for divorce on the ground of mental cruelty. She revealed they’d been separated for almost a year.
June brought the surprise announcement that Harry was going to marry not Lassie but Candy Jones, twenty-three, another blond Cover Girl. Candy was discovered at the Miss America contest in 1941. She was sixteen years old, the daughter of a movie theater ticket taker and car salesman who called his daughter Doll. After spurting eight inches in high school, Candy, whose name was then Jessica Wilcox, won a Miss Atlantic City contest and was hostess of that year’s beauty pageant. Afterward she approached John Robert Powers, who’d judged the contest for several years. “You’ll be hearing from me,” he promised her.
“This is the beginning of the end, Jessica,” her irate mother said. “This is the start of your downfall.”
That fall Jessica got a telegram from Powers, offering her a cigarette advertisement. With her mother’s grudging permission, she arrived in New York only to discover that there was no ad. “You have wrinkles in your neck,” Powers told her, before offering to enroll her in his charm school. When she threatened to report him to the Miss Atlantic City contest organizers, he agreed to let her sit in his model room and see if any work turned up. Two weeks later, having earned a mere $10, she went to Conover’s agency to look up a friend’s sister. “You could model, you know,” the receptionist told her, sending her in to see Conover.
“I’m Jessica Wilcox,” she said.
“You’re Candy Johnson,” he replied. “And your rate is $5 an hour.”
By 1943, thanks to her good looks and his aggressive promotion—including candy-striped outfits and calling cards—Candy Jones (the name was shortened because she couldn’t remember the longer one) was a top model, winning eleven covers in a single month. Conover later said he’d had only one date with her before he proposed long distance while she was on a promotional trip for Cover Girl cosmetics in Portland, Oregon. Their engagement announcement included the news that they planned to start a Tex and Jinx—like radio show after their honeymoon. “They began to see a commercial potential in marrying their two names,” says Bob Fertig.
After the announcement a public relations man from Canada called, asking Harry to judge a July 4 Miss Canada contest in Hamilton, Ontario. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Conover asked Fertig. With the contest organizers paying for everything, Harry and Candy flew off to Canada to get married and judge the contest together. Speakers were set up outside their church for the benefit of the overflow crowd. The next day they were married again in an Iroquois ceremony, feathers and all.
“Do you love me now?” Candy asked as they returned to their hotel.
“As much as I can,” Harry answered, “but don’t pin me down. Nothing is forever.” Conover fell asleep on her that night and didn’t consummate the marriage for some time. “I don’t want to break in a virgin,” he complained.
Candy knew she was in trouble but was determined to make the best of things. “I wanted to be held and caressed,” she said. “Harry didn’t like that and soon, I didn’t care one way or another.”
Meanwhile, intrepid tabloid news hounds had sniffed out Lassie Newland, nursing her wounds at the dude ranch. She told them she’d left Harry because he was an introvert who cared only about business. “Right in my own office we have the very thing that every man looks for, works for, fights for and dies for,” Conover said, just before he was excommunicated by the Catholic Church in New Jersey.
It wasn’t the best of times for modeling. A dress manufacturer named Samuel Chapman and oleomargarine heir Minot
June brought the surprise announcement that Harry was going to marry not Lassie but Candy Jones, twenty-three, another blond Cover Girl. Candy was discovered at the Miss America contest in 1941. She was sixteen years old, the daughter of a movie theater ticket taker and car salesman who called his daughter Doll. After spurting eight inches in high school, Candy, whose name was then Jessica Wilcox, won a Miss Atlantic City contest and was hostess of that year’s beauty pageant. Afterward she approached John Robert Powers, who’d judged the contest for several years. “You’ll be hearing from me,” he promised her.
“This is the beginning of the end, Jessica,” her irate mother said. “This is the start of your downfall.”
That fall Jessica got a telegram from Powers, offering her a cigarette advertisement. With her mother’s grudging permission, she arrived in New York only to discover that there was no ad. “You have wrinkles in your neck,” Powers told her, before offering to enroll her in his charm school. When she threatened to report him to the Miss Atlantic City contest organizers, he agreed to let her sit in his model room and see if any work turned up. Two weeks later, having earned a mere $10, she went to Conover’s agency to look up a friend’s sister. “You could model, you know,” the receptionist told her, sending her in to see Conover.
“I’m Jessica Wilcox,” she said.
“You’re Candy Johnson,” he replied. “And your rate is $5 an hour.”
By 1943, thanks to her good looks and his aggressive promotion—including candy-striped outfits and calling cards—Candy Jones (the name was shortened because she couldn’t remember the longer one) was a top model, winning eleven covers in a single month. Conover later said he’d had only one date with her before he proposed long distance while she was on a promotional trip for Cover Girl cosmetics in Portland, Oregon. Their engagement announcement included the news that they planned to start a Tex and Jinx—like radio show after their honeymoon. “They began to see a commercial potential in marrying their two names,” says Bob Fertig.
After the announcement a public relations man from Canada called, asking Harry to judge a July 4 Miss Canada contest in Hamilton, Ontario. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Conover asked Fertig. With the contest organizers paying for everything, Harry and Candy flew off to Canada to get married and judge the contest together. Speakers were set up outside their church for the benefit of the overflow crowd. The next day they were married again in an Iroquois ceremony, feathers and all.
“Do you love me now?” Candy asked as they returned to their hotel.
“As much as I can,” Harry answered, “but don’t pin me down. Nothing is forever.” Conover fell asleep on her that night and didn’t consummate the marriage for some time. “I don’t want to break in a virgin,” he complained.
Candy knew she was in trouble but was determined to make the best of things. “I wanted to be held and caressed,” she said. “Harry didn’t like that and soon, I didn’t care one way or another.”
Meanwhile, intrepid tabloid news hounds had sniffed out Lassie Newland, nursing her wounds at the dude ranch. She told them she’d left Harry because he was an introvert who cared only about business. “Right in my own office we have the very thing that every man looks for, works for, fights for and dies for,” Conover said, just before he was excommunicated by the Catholic Church in New Jersey.
It wasn’t the best of times for modeling. A dress manufacturer named Samuel Chapman and oleomargarine heir Minot
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