Forget Brad Smith. Back in the mid-1900s, George H. Hees was the ultimate ladies’ man. Armed with a killer throw and a righteous ‘stache, Hees was the bees mother freaking knees. A rose? Hees gave out ghost orchids. A helicopter ride? Try a zeppelin. A hiatus? There was only one day when Hees wasn’t working his magic with a lady and that was the stock market crash of 1929.