Sixteen and Unkissed! By Henry P. Malmgreen Lank-limbed Gary Cooper stalked across a Warners sound stage in the hobnailed boots of Sergeant Alvin York and paused to stare gravely down at the girl who smiled back at him with dancing, 16-year-old eyes. "Don't let them glamourize you, Joan," he said quietly. That's one bit of advice Joan Leslie will treasure most among her memories of the fabulous period that began with her 16th birthday on last January 26th. A long-term contract, a sleek new car and best of all, a chance to play Gracie Williams, Gary Cooper's Tennessee child bride in "Sergeant York" -- coming in one ecstatic lump, they might have addled older heads that Joan's. But her's is safe. Breath-taking, overnight stardom has done nothing to spoil this cinematic Cinderella who's made one of the hardest grades in the world without benefit of Hays-tabooed sweaters, leg art or jumping through publicity hoops. To understand why this is so, you've got to go back 14 years to a night when a 2 1/2-year-old toddled onto the stage of big Detroit theatre and brought the house down piping "Let a Smile Be Your Umbrella." The baby Thespian was Joan Brodel, youngest daughter of an Irish bank teller. Sisters Mary, 6, and Betty, 8, were already kiddie show veterans, and the revelation of Joan's precocious talent made a family trio inevitable. For the next few years, proud Mother Brodel lavished all spare family funds on singing and dancing lessons, convinced that some day her brood would be famous. And a wise investment it was. When Mr. Brodel and his bank job parted company in the '29 crash, the girls were able to cash in on vaudeville offers. The family unstaked and struck out, first for New York, where bookings were skimpy, then to Canada, where the three sisters played, sang and danced before Toronto, Montreal and Quebec night-clubbers. Joan unleashed a flair for mimicry with amazing impersonations of Hepburn, Garbo, Zasu Pitts, Jimmy Durante and Luise Rainer. No one expected the tall, pretty youngster of being only 9. From Canada, the family made a long jump to Miami, where an Eastman Kodak scout got excited over Joan's lovely bronze hair and hazel eyes, featured her in a series of color ads. And that temporarily spelled doom for the Brodel sisters act. Back in New York a year later, M-G-M's Ben Altman strolled into Ben Marden's Riviera where the three youngsters were busy entertaining, singled out 11-year-old Joan, signed her up for six months and whisked her out for a bit in Garbo's "Camille" before the family could catch breath. That looked as though part of Mrs. Brodel's dream might be taking shape, but it wasn't. M-G-M told Joan to go home and grow up. They would send for her in a few years. She went, glad to be back with Betty and Mary. But vaudeville was dying, engagements were scarce for a girl trio. Betty began to take solo jobs. Mary modeled for Powers. Joan puttered around for two years, made a few movie shorts, then, tired for waiting for M-G-M, trekked back to Hollywood with Mary and Mrs. Brodel. A mistake? They all thought so, when seven long months rolled by and Joan was still making the weary rounds, running through her repertoire of impersonations. But director William Wellman finally broke the ice with a part in "Men With Wings." You may remember seeing Joan after that in "Winter Carnival," "High School," "Two Thoroughbreds," "Nancy Drew, Reporter," "Susan and God" -- all small parts, of course, but big enough to intrigue Warners execs. They tested her, signed her for six months, rechristened her Joan Leslie and let her mature slowly but steadily in "High Sierra," "The Wagon Rolls at Night," "The Great Mr. Nobody" and "Thirty Days Hath September." One good boost was all Joan needed at this point to bring stardom. And alert Warner publicity hawks paved the way by grabbing a Heaven-sent chance to match her against Paramount's Veronica Lake in a contest sponsored by Southern California's All-Year Club to find a "Sun Goddess." Joan won hands down, as you know, and the tidal wave of publicity that followed lapped from coast to coast convinced Warners that they had a new star. Natural and unaffected as any normal, well-bred high schooler, Joan violates Hollywood's tradition of Kleig-dazzled eccentricity by living modestly with her reunited family in a small Burbank home near the Warner studio. Though film roles have schooled her in realistic love-making, she's never been kissed off-screen, still has her first date ahead of her. Studio school -- the four daily hours that California requires -- and dramatic lessons keep Joan's perky nose to the grindstone. And for relaxation, she has a healthy, 16-year-old preference for horseback riding, tennis, ping pong, and bowling. Clothes are not a major problem yet. Joan's mature and lovely 5' 4" and 120 pounds permit dress and shoe-swapping with her two pretty sisters, red-haired Mary (also under contract with Warners) and Betty, who wants to sing in radio. Newest additions to her wardrobe are two pinafore dresses, a red party frock and a gold-buttoned military suit on which she's sewn the honorary insignia recently given her by the West Coast Air Corps. More important to Joan than clothes or the flattering stacks of fan mail that have begun pouring in from all unbombed parts of the world (one came from Australia addressed simply: "Joan Leslie, U. S. A.") is achieving Bette Davis stature as a real actress. And that's more than just a dream shared by a million other embryo Bernhardts. Joan means it -- with all the magnificent, sincere fervor of 16. If ambition, real talent and an eager willingness to work hard mean anything, you can expect her to be thanking someone for an Oscar three or four years from now! |
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