Half a century ago every studio had at least one actress under contract who personified the wholesome, all–American girl next door, whether it was June Allyson at MGM, Jeanne Crain at Fox or Anne Shirley at RKO. Joan Leslie was Warners’ ingenue in residence, a pretty and perky actress with a pleasant demeanor who photographed well, could sing and dance when called for, and could emote effectively against the likes of Ida Lupino and Humphrey Bogart.
As far as Jack Warner was concerned, he expected Joan’s private life to be just as sweet and squeaky clean as her screen persona. He personally nurtured and guided her during her beginnings at the studio, much in the way of an overprotective—or, some might say, overbearing—father. And then when she had the nerve to defy him, he, in effect, grounded her—by making sure that no other studio would hire her. Joan ultimately got the last laugh by leaving show business in the 1950s and enjoying a successful marriage.
Joan Agnes Theresa Brodel was born in Detroit, Michigan, on January 26, 1925, the youngest of John and Agnes Brodel’s three daughters. Agnes was a pianist and therefore encouraged Joan and her sisters, Mary and Betty, to pursue musical activities. Mary, who was six years older than Joan, learned the saxophone, while Betty, who was three years Joan’s senior, took up the banjo. The two older girls also took up dancing to become more poised. As children, they sang and danced at local socials and events, accompanied by their mother on the piano. Joan made her debut at age two and a half when she toddled out onto a Detroit theater stage and sang “Let a Smile Be Your Umbrella.” From then on, the sister act became a threesome. Within a few years, Joan likewise was given an instrument to study—the accordion.
When Joan’s father lost his banking job during the Depression, the girls began to accept vaudeville bookings to help with the family finances. Joan and her siblings, billed as “The Three Brodels,” hit the road and appeared in stage shows throughout Canada and the east coast. Mary and Betty would open the act, performing à la the Boswell Sisters. But it was nine-year-old Joan who proved to be the standout, with her impersonations of such popular film stars as Katharine Hepburn, Greta Garbo, ZaSu Pitts, Luise Rainer and even Jimmy Durante.
For a while the girls worked with a southern unit of a kiddie show, traveling by car and living in small hotels. In addition to the family members, Joan, always an animal lover, had two dogs who accompanied her.
“We were a very unorthodox group,” Joan said. “We weren’t a family with any theatrical tradition. To the contrary, we were just a close clan that sang and danced together for sheer enjoyment, and we were thrilled when someone paid us to perform. It was a crazy quilt kind of childhood, but thank goodness my parents were along to help keep us on an even keel.”
One problem the family ran into was trying to adhere to the child labor laws. Technically, minors were not supposed to be performing in theaters. As a cover, ten-year-old Joan passed herself off as sixteen, and Mary, then fourteen, pretended to be twenty-one. The girls’ education was spotty, and they only received lessons from an assigned tutor when the family stayed in any major city for a long stretch, such as Montreal, Detroit and New York.
Fresh-faced Joan Leslie longed for the glamour treatment, but Warners wouldn’t think of it.
At one point their finances were so low that the girls didn’t have the two dollars they needed to pay for their dancing lesson. As security, Mary pawned her saxophone and Betty did the same with her banjo. “[The pawn broker] skipped town with them. We never let on to papa, but we used to get off by ourselves and cheer about it,” Mary said in a 1941 Collier’s interview.
The Brodels were playing at the Stanley Theater in Pittsburgh in 1936, and by then were feeling more than a little anxious to break out of the small-town circuit they had been playing. A family conference took place and it was decided that the girls should head to New York if they ever planned to get anywhere in show business.
When they arrived in New York the resourceful Mary approached the manager of the Paradise Club about booking the act into the new show he was preparing. Although the manager was reluctant about speaking with them because Joan was a minor, he auditioned the act anyway and liked what he saw. He was still worried that the Gerry Society, which enforced child labor laws, might find out about Joan and cause trouble.
“We’ll go as long as we can and run when they get hot,” Mary argued. It only took four weeks for the Gerry people to catch up with them. Finished at the Paradise, the Brodel sisters then got booked into the Park Central Hotel; this time it was two weeks before the Gerry Society found them, but luckily the girls were tipped off about their visit. On the night they showed up, Joan was pulled out of the act and Mary took over her spot. The ruse worked and the girls played at the hotel for eight weeks.
It was during the Brodels’ next stint, at Ben Marden’s Riviera, that Joan was discovered by MGM talent scout Al Altman, who offered her a screen test. Joan’s test featured a script written by her mother, and co-starred her dog. MGM signed her at $200 a week and gave her a bit in Camille (1936) as Robert Taylor’s sister, Marie Jeanette. Joan originally had two lines, which were cut. All that’s left of her scene is a quick kiss on the forehead from Lionel Barrymore. Not knowing what else to do with her, MGM dropped Joan after six weeks.
A despondent Joan rejoined her sisters back east but returned to Hollywood shortly afterwards with her mother when Mary was signed by Universal. Mary told the bosses at her studio that they should take a look at her little sister. Universal wasn’t interested, but other studios were, and Joan got bit parts in Paramount’s Men with Wings (1938), Warner Bros.’ Nancy Drew, Reporter (1938), RKO’s Love Affair (1939) and Walter Wanger’s Winter Carnival (1939).
Joan’s first screen role of any significance was in a charming B at RKO called Two Thoroughbreds (1939), which starred Jimmy Lydon as an orphan trying to raise a stray colt against his greedy uncle’s objections. Joan was cast as Lydon’s sweetheart, the first of many such wholesome roles she’d play over the next seven years. Shot on location by director Jack Hively in Malibu Lake, California, the film was gorgeous to look at. Hively, a former film cutter, elicited sensitive performances from his two human stars, as well as his equine players, all of which made Two Thoroughbreds a modest financial success.
Lydon has fond memories of Joan. “She was a real redhead and cute as a button,” he said. “We spent twenty-one days together making that movie. Jack Hively was very easy with actors, so we had a good time. Joan, even then, was very professional. She arrived promptly with her mom on the set every day. Her sister was also in it as an extra, and they were all very sweet.”
Despite the success of Two Thoroughbreds, the picture proved to be a one-shot deal with RKO and she was back to scouring the other studios for work. Joan next tried her luck at 20th Century–Fox, where she was put in High School (1940) with Jane Withers. Joan’s role was a small one, but she attracted attention, especially since she had to wear glasses.
Withers found her delightful, both in the film and off the set, and they began a friendship that has lasted more than sixty years. Joan was a frequent visitor to Withers’ home, which became known as Withers USO, a sort of junior Hollywood Canteen where GIs would gather on Sundays for barbecues, swimming, badminton and dancing with young stars from the various studios.
“I liked Joan right away,” Withers said. “She had a great personality, and was beautiful both on the inside and outside. She and Ann Blyth and I still get together for lunch at least once a month and just have a great time together.”
Joan stayed at Fox for small roles in Young as You Feel (1940) and Star Dust (1940) before she was dropped. Bits in Military Academy (1940), Foreign Correspondent (1940) for Alfred Hitchcock and Laddie (1940) at RKO followed, but she caused little stir in those.
Although Joan did not do a lot of dating during this period, there were occasions when she did attend special functions with a beau, such as Hollywood newcomer Rand Brooks, who had appeared with Joan in Laddie. “I took her out on her first date,” said Brooks. “I asked if she would go to a sneak preview of the picture. We had a good time. We didn’t go out again, but I have pleasant memories of her. She was very pretty and sweet and we laughed a lot.”
In 1940 Joan’s career took an upswing. Warner Bros. executives had been struck by Joan’s small appearance as one of Bonita Granville’s classmates in Nancy Drew, Reporter and offered her a screen test. For the test, Joan not only performed two dramatic scenes, but she sang, danced and did some of her impersonations. Warners’ head acting coach, Sophie Rosenstein, took great care directing Joan’s screen test, which took an entire workday to film.
Impressed by her abilities, Warners signed her to a contract. The first order of business was to change her last name to Brooks because Joan Brodel sounded too much like Joan Blondell. For whatever reasons, the studio soon after changed Joan Brooks to Joan Leslie.
The studio obviously had high expectations for Joan, since within two weeks of signing her contract she was tested for the second female lead in High Sierra (1941), a prestigious production with a top-flight director, Raoul Walsh. The movie would not only serve as a launching pad for Joan, but also to gauge the star power of Humphrey Bogart and Ida Lupino, both of whom had finally graduated to leads after years of supporting roles in ‘B’ films. Joan was fortunate to have Walsh direct her screen test and also to get Bogart to feed her the lines.
Bogart played tough ex-con Roy Earle, an aging gangster anxious to pull one last robbery, from which he expects to make enough money to retire. Joan played Velma, a lame girl whom Roy becomes smitten with. Although Velma does not have the same feelings for him, Roy hopes that by paying for her corrective surgery she will marry him out of gratitude. Instead, she bitterly rejects him and takes up with someone else. The dejected Roy finds comfort with Marie (Lupino), a moll who is devoted to him.
High Sierra gave a significant career boost to all three of its stars. Bogart established himself as Warners’ premier tough guy, while Lupino became the heir apparent to Bette Davis’ throne. Joan also acquitted herself quite nicely, and was especially touching in the scene when Roy asks Velma to marry him. More surprising was the venomous streak she displayed in her final screen moment when she tells Roy that she never cared for him at all. “A newcomer named Joan Leslie handles a lesser role effectively,” said Bosley Crowther of The New York Times.
Joan’s next appearance was in a rarely seen short subject called Alice in Movieland (1941), produced by Jack Warner, Jr., and directed by Jean Negulesco. Joan played a starry-eyed miss on her way to Hollywood and, she hopes, a career in movies. After arriving in Hollywood she gets a menial job and is immediately discovered by a talent scout, which leads to a screen test and a bit part. When an assistant director berates her, she gives him a solid tongue lashing, which the director sees as the emotional fire of a great actress. She then gets a starring role and wins an Academy Award before waking up from her dream. Joan remembered it as a delightful story that she had fun performing.
Impressed with the box-office take on High Sierra and the positive reaction to his new female star, studio head Jack Warner took a special interest in Joan. As part of his nurturing process, Warner gave Joan a strict set of guidelines that he felt befit her refined image. Prior to leaving for New York on a publicity tour, Warner advised her, “I don’t want to see you smoking or drinking.” When Joan told him she did neither one, he snapped back, “Well, see that you don’t.”
Warner also saw to it that Joan went to the best parties, but only with men who wouldn’t sully her image. At a lavish studio party honoring visiting Army dignitaries, she was accidentally put next to Hollywood’s leading womanizer, Errol Flynn. “How do you do, Joan?” he asked. “I’m afraid we never met.” In the room, which was brimming with photographers, it was only a matter of time before someone took notice of Joan’s encounter with Flynn.
“Cameras went off and flashed pictures of us smiling at each other in a most cordial, but rather formal way,” Joan recalled. “And in no time at all, a publicity man, of which there were an enormous number at that time, came in and separated us, and pulled Flynn off one way and pulled me off another way as if I was urgently needed to take a picture with some important person. Then I heard that the pictures were killed.”
Joan’s off-camera hours were just as taxing as the time she spent filming. California law necessitated that sixteen-year-old Joan attend school for three hours each day. The rest of her time was devoted to costume fittings, rehearsals, diction and ballet lessons, color tests, dialogue tests, and posing for publicity stills.
Joan’s hard work paid off with her first leading lady role in The Great Mr. Nobody (1941), an amusing B co-starring Eddie Albert as an accident-prone reporter. Joan played his girlfriend, and there was no denying they made a cute couple.
Warners thought they worked so well together that they were paired up two more times, in The Wagons Roll at Night (1941) and Thieves Fall Out (1941). The former was a remake of Kid Galahad (1937), with the locale shifted from the boxing ring to a circus ring. Albert played a wide-eyed innocent who becomes a successful lion tamer for a tough circus owner (Humphrey Bogart). Problems begin for the tamer when he falls for his boss’ young sister (Joan). While not as powerful as the original, The Wagons Roll at Night has its share of exciting moments, particularly two chilling scenes in which Albert comes close to being mauled by one of the vicious cats.
The Wagons Roll at Night also is interesting for its subliminal incestuous themes that seem to be evident in Bogart’s character. His jealousy over the relationship between his sister and the lion tamer smacks more of the spurned lover than the protective older sibling.
Thieves Fall Out was pretty lightweight stuff, with Jane Darwell as a feisty old biddy who outwits a gangster to protect her shy grandson (Albert). Granny also works her magic on getting Joan and Albert locked in each other’s arms for a happy, if predictable, ending.
Then Warner finally saw to it that Joan appeared in a production of the level of High Sierra. She was chosen to appear opposite Gary Cooper in Sergeant York (1941), director Howard Hawks’ stirring biography of World War I hero Alvin York. The movie, in which York served as technical advisor, began with a look at his early years as a Tennessee farm boy before moving on to his military service career. Joan played Gracie, the backwoods girl he romances and later marries.
According to Joan, the original depiction of Gracie, as penned by screenwriters Abem Finkel, Harry Chandler, Howard Koch and John Huston, was hardly the typical Joan Leslie type of role. Their original script was penned with Hawks’ original choice, Jane Russell, in mind, and depicted Gracie as something of a sexpot. When the York family refused to give permission to film unless the character was made more wholesome, the script was revised and Joan got the part.
During filming of the picture, Joan met Mrs. York, whom she remembered as the antithesis of the glamour girl Warners originally envisioned. “She was the kind of person who after she got her hair fixed to go out had a hairnet over it all, right down almost to her eyebrows,” she said. “And she just didn’t say anything more than ‘How do?’ to me.”
For Joan, the greatest thrill was the chance to work with Cooper, an actor she had long admired. She had only one concern: how to address him. “I couldn’t possibly call a co-star ‘Mr. Cooper,’ even though he was entitled to that, and I wouldn’t dare call him ‘Gary.’ The first time he met me, he said, ‘Well now, here she is, here’s Gracie.’ And I said, ‘How do you do, Alvin?’ and that was it. I called him Alvin at all times.”
Cooper’s easygoing manner and helpful attitude made for a pleasant working relationship with Joan. On several occasions when Joan asked Cooper if he wouldn’t mind redoing a scene with her, he graciously replied, “Sure, Gracie.”
Joan also had great respect for Hawks, whom she said was a master at directing gestures and getting actors to use their bodies to convey attitude. She also appreciated his leisurely approach to filming, which included ample rehearsal time. “He would not be rushed by anybody. If he came in and started to rehearse at nine, and didn’t make a take until 11:30, no one said a word to him about that,” Joan said.
Warners had no reason to complain—Sergeant York ended up being the top-grossing film of 1941, and Cooper’s sincere performance earned him a Best Actor Oscar. Although Joan was not entirely successful at affecting a southern accent (Crowther said she played a mountain beauty “with little more than a bright smile, a phony accent and a tight dress”), she had a friendly demeanor that charmed audiences.
Also successful was The Male Animal (1942), the film version of James Thurber’s topical stage comedy that used football and campus politics to parody government. Joan played Olivia de Havilland’s kid sister whose biggest concern is keeping a hulking quarterback (Don DeFore) away from the campus vamp, nicknamed “Hot Garters.” Whatever appeal the film had on stage got lost on-screen, although it was buoyed by the lively performances of Henry Fonda as an idealistic professor, Jack Carson as his former rival for his wife’s affections and Eugene Pallette as the tyrannical college president. Joan’s role was small and undemanding.
It was around this time that Joan asked for some time off to take a vacation with her family in New York. She hoped to catch up with old friends, do some shopping and just relax after her first exciting, but exhausting, year at Warners. The studio agreed, but once she was East, she discovered Warners had created its own itinerary for her. “They booked us into a nice hotel, but as soon as I got there they saw to it that I had interviews, and I got tickets for plays I otherwise never would have gone to see, and every moment was booked,” Joan said. “I didn’t have the wardrobe I wanted to have. I thought it would be a little time for myself. It was an exciting, glamorous, wonderful world, but there were limitations on your freedom that were hurtful at times. You had no say about that unless you wanted to be difficult, which was not in my nature. I went along with them, but I didn’t feel good about it.”
Joan felt better about being cast as Mrs. George M. Cohan in Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942). Warners’ flag-waving musical, based on the life of the famous showman, was more to her liking. As Mary Cohan, Joan was required to age roughly thirty years over the course of one hundred and twenty-six minutes. Perc Westmore did an excellent job of applying Joan with the appropriate makeup and attractive wigs to make her look convincingly middle-aged.
Yankee Doodle Dandy was essentially the typical Hollywood musical biography of the ’40s—that is, short on facts and long on elaborate musical numbers. The difference in this case was James Cagney’s exuberant performance, the high point of his career. The movie opened with Cohan meeting with President Franklin D. Roosevelt, a device that opened the door for a flashback tour of Cohan’s life, which covered his birth on July 4, 1878 (actually July 3), his childhood in the limelight, his romance and marriage to Mary, his success on Broadway, and his retirement and triumphant comeback.
The movie was Warners’ first attempt to do a big-budget musical since its Busby Berkeley extravaganzas of the early to mid–1930s. Director Michael Curtiz, who was more at home directing Errol Flynn costume epics (The Adventures of Robin Hood) or gritty social dramas (Angels with Dirty Faces), tackled the musical numbers with style, and was greatly abetted by his leading man, as well as Walter Huston and Rosemary De Camp as Cohan’s parents, and Jeanne Cagney as his sister, Josie. Joan was nicely spotlighted in several numbers, including “She’s the Warmest Baby in the Bunch” and “Mary.”
With its patriotic heart in the right time and place, Yankee Doodle Dandy was the wow Warner expected, grossing a whopping $4.8 million and earning an Academy Award for Cagney. Though Yankee Doodle Dandy was unquestionably Cagney’s movie, it also did wonders for Joan’s career. Crowther raved that Joan was “excellent as Mrs. George M. Cohan.”
Joan has always expressed special affection for Yankee Doodle Dandy and considers it the real turning point in her career. “I was just a kid, taking things as they came, the good roles, the bad ones,” Joan told The New York Times in 1944. “It was all new and a lot of fun. But in Yankee Doodle Dandy, the idea of the whole thing began opening up. I realized that, or was starting to realize, where it was I wanted to go and how hard it was going to be to get there.”
Throughout filming of Yankee Doodle Dandy Joan received plenty of publicity, which included being the victim of one shabby, craftily engineered stunt. On her seventeenth birthday, Warner invited a slew of publicists and photographers to the set as he presented Joan with her gifts—a watch and a brand new automobile, which he had wheeled onto the lot. As flash bulbs went off and all the onlookers applauded, Warner handed Joan the keys and told her, “Enjoy it.” As soon as everyone left, Warner took the keys away from her and had the car removed. It was the last Joan ever saw of her “present.”
Publicists generally found Joan to be unusual among the crop of starlets and glamour girls that populated Hollywood at the time. For one thing, Joan was probably the only leading lady in Hollywood who still wore braces on her teeth. “Of course, I take them out when I’m working, but at all other times, here they are!” she said in a 1942 interview. “They’re necessary, of course—the cameramen have to shoot around one side of my mouth on account of how this side has a very long tooth and a little baby tooth right next to it, showing, which looks very funny—and I can’t expect cameramen to be crouching on all fours, shooting up at one side of my mouth forever!”
Joan still lived with her parents and her sisters in their Toluca Lake home, and as such seemed uncorrupted by the many temptations of Hollywood. Her off hours were spent palling around with Jeanne Cagney, whom she met on the set of Yankee Doodle Dandy, and Jane Withers. “We didn’t work on Saturdays. There was a regular group of us, Ann (Blyth), Diana Lynn and Joan, who would get together and go to the movies,” Withers recalled. “Since I had a convertible, I would drive everyone. We’d get some fast food and take it with us to the theater. We’d usually call the manager ahead of time to let him know we were coming. The balconies would be closed for other people, and when we would get there, they’d open it up for us and we could eat by ourselves. It was just a lot of fun.”
In keeping with her wholesome image, Joan was not prone to hitting the night spots frequently or wearing a lot of makeup. On-screen, though, she yearned for the glamour girl treatment her contemporaries, like Alexis Smith and Faye Emerson, were receiving. “Other ladies who had starring roles such as I did would come in at seven and have makeup and hair done carefully, and report to the set at nine. They couldn’t do that with me because I was allowed to be on the lot only a certain number of hours,” Joan explained. “So the two hours [for makeup] was shrunk to one hour, one hour had to be for lunch, or sometimes for rest, three hours for school, and I had to be off the lot by five or six, depending on when I came in. So I never had a glamour makeup. I never had false eyelashes. I laugh about it now, but at the time it meant a lot to me.”
A certain amount of glamour did creep into Joan’s characterization of Katie Blaine in The Hard Way (1943), a juicy saga about the backbiting world of Broadway and sibling rivalry. Joan played a thinly veiled version of Ginger Rogers, who gets pushed by her older sister, Helen (Ida Lupino), into a career on Broadway. The manipulative Helen destroys Katie’s marriage to a broken-down vaudevillian (Jack Carson) who eventually commits suicide. His death has a profound effect on the wholesome Katie, who then becomes a party girl dating a different man every night and nursing a hangover each morning. Helping her to piece her life back together is Paul (Dennis Morgan), her husband’s former vaudeville partner. Helen tries to tear this relationship apart as well, because she’s also in love with Paul.
Joan admitted The Hard Way was a tough film to make because she was constantly being handed new dialogue. At the core of the problem was Lupino’s dissatisfaction with playing such an unsympathetic role. In a bid to soften her character she became demanding about changes to the script. She and director Vincent Sherman would then get into serious discussion, which usually prompted him to say, “Joan, you’d better go put in some school time.”
When Joan would return from her lessons, she’d find several revised pages of the script. She had to learn the new dialogue quickly before heading to the set, which put her at a disadvantage. On the plus side, Joan admitted they were always changes for the better.
Unlike the virginal heroines she had previously played up to now, Katie called for a certain amount of worldliness. Sherman was uncertain whether Joan would be able to meet the challenge. “I felt she would be perfect in the early part of our story, when she was supposed to be sweet and innocent, but I questioned whether she would be able to convey the corruption and degradation called for in the latter part,” he said. “She was too young and her life experience was limited. When I presented the problem to [Hal] Wallis, he dismissed me by saying it was up to me to get this quality out of her. Joan is a grand person and was a pleasure to work with. When I stop to think and realize that she did The Hard Way when she was only eighteen, I am amazed at how successful she was in the role. I tried to give her as much physical activity as possible in the latter part to add to her corruption.”
The usually tough Crowther said, “Joan Leslie is just as deft and versatile as the character she is supposed to be.”
Time, likewise, noted, “Joan Leslie romps attractively through a difficult part.”
Having proved herself as the heroine in one patriotic musical (Yankee Doodle Dandy), Joan was tossed into another Michael Curtiz-directed wartime extravaganza, This Is the Army (1943), based on Irving Berlin’s stage show. Unlike the stage version, which essentially was a pastiche of patriotic songs written by Berlin, the film included a storyline about a World War I veteran (George Murphy) and his son (Ronald Reagan), a soldier in the Second World War. Joan supplied the modern-day love interest for Reagan. In addition to the principals, who volunteered their services, the cast included the three hundred and fifty enlisted men from the show, who appeared in the film for their regular soldier’s pay.
Filmed in vibrant Technicolor and featuring Kate Smith doing the definitive version of “God Bless America,” as well as Berlin’s endearingly awful rendition of “Oh How I Hate to Get Up in the Morning,” audiences flocked to the theater. Warners accepted just enough of the gross to cover the film’s initial costs, with the remaining $1,951,045.11 going to Army Emergency Relief.
Supposedly, when Joan first heard that she was being considered as Fred Astaire’s partner in his next film, she sent him a telegram that said, “Heard a rumor and hope it’s true. I’m paying daily visits to the wishing well.” Joan’s wish was granted and she was loaned to RKO for The Sky’s the Limit (1943), a pleasant but minor Astaire outing that was buoyed by excellent Harold-Arlen Johnny Mercer tunes. The slight story of a flyer (Astaire) on leave who finds romance with a pretty photographer (Joan) was primarily an excuse for some flag waving and to see the dance master perform one of his best routines, a dramatic performance of “One for My Baby.” While Joan was admittedly no match for Astaire on the dance floor, she proved to be a capable partner and was a pleasure to watch in the peppy “We’ve Got a Lot in Common” number.
Dancing with Astaire proved to be as magical for Joan as she had imagined ever since seeing her first Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers musical as a child. “He was a very strong leader. It was very easy to follow him,” Joan said. “Because of my long experience as a dancer, it was easy for me to learn the steps. It was not a big picture, where a lot of time was put into a lot of intricate steps. They were two fairly simple routines. I thought I did them all right, but I’m not Ginger Rogers and I’m certainly not equal to Fred Astaire, but I had a wonderful time.”
Reviewers were split on the Astaire-Leslie pairing. Crowther took the offensive, carping that, “Mr. Astaire and Miss Leslie, in two dances, work hard for slight effect. For the simple fact is that Miss Leslie, while a gracious and neatly attractive miss, is not a Ginger Rogers when she tries to make with her feet.”
Time was more gracious: “Joan Leslie imparts the double impression in their dance numbers that she is hanging onto [Astaire’s] thumb and that she is doing remarkably well in view of the fact that she is not Fred Astaire. At less strenuous moments, Cinemactress Leslie is so nice to look at that her feet are the last thing anybody is likely to notice.”
As an example of how important Joan had become, in order to acquire her services for The Sky’s the Limit, as well as those of fellow Warners performer John Garfield in The Fallen Sparrow (1943), RKO agreed to give Warners the rights to both Of Human Bondage (1934) and The Animal Kingdom (1932). Both films were remade unsuccessfully by Warner Bros. in 1946.
Back at her home studio Joan was quickly becoming Warners’ first musical sweetheart since Ruby Keeler a decade earlier. As such, she was next put into two all-star song-and-dancefests—Thank Your Lucky Stars (1943) and Hollywood Canteen (1944). Of the two, Joan was better served by Thank Your Lucky Stars, despite a silly plot that had Eddie Cantor in a dual role as himself and a lookalike tour guide who can’t break into movies because of his resemblance to Banjo Eyes. Joan played the daffy girlfriend of Dennis Morgan, an aspiring singer who thinks if he can appear in a benefit featuring Warner Bros.’ biggest stars, it will be his ticket to a Hollywood career. Joan’s spirited performance, especially her duet with Morgan of “Ridin’ for a Fall,” helped make Thank Your Lucky Stars a popular entertainment.
Hollywood Canteen worked on the assumption that servicemen might have popular pin-ups, such as Betty Grable and Rita Hayworth, splashed on their lockers, but it was nice girls like Joan that they all pined for back home. Audiences were asked to swallow the shallow plot that GI Robert Hutton dreamed of spending his leave at the Canteen so he could meet Joan and persuade her to wait for him to return from the service. The embarrassing scenario was barely noticed by filmgoers who instead relished cameos by nearly everyone on the Warners lot (sans Ann Sheridan, who hated the script and went on suspension), and musical performances by the likes of the Andrews Sisters, Eddie Cantor, Jane Wyman and dozens of others. With such a star-studded line-up, it was no surprise that the film was Warners’ top moneymaker of 1944.
At the time it seemed that Joan could do no wrong. She had been in a string of box-office hits, and her popularity with both men and women had been continually on an upswing. Likewise, she had been a good girl, never giving Jack Warner cause for concern. She had not been temperamental like many of the actresses on the lot, and had never refused a role, even though she was anxious to tackle some heavier material than the fluff Warners often assigned her.
One part she was keen on playing was Tessa, a fourteen-year-old girl dying of consumption in The Constant Nymph (1943). “It seemed all set,” Joan said in Movies. “When I went to see the director, Edmund Goulding, he hemmed and hawed and then said, ‘Somehow, Joanie, I just can’t see you in the part. Maybe it’s because, so much of the time, I see you bicycling around the lot with an apple in your mouth.’” Joan Fontaine won the role and an Oscar nomination.
More surprisingly, Joan envisioned herself playing Bessie, the Cockney tramp whose illegitimate pregnancy threatens the future of a young Welshman in The Corn Is Green (1945). Although Joan seemed determined to play the role, Warners execs convinced her she was not quite right for the part. Newcomer Joan Lorring got the plum role.
Joan was loaned to 20th Century–Fox for a fanciful musical history lesson called Where Do We Go from Here? (1945), directed by Gregory Ratoff. Fred MacMurray played a civilian deemed unfit for World War II military service. In typical Aladdin style, he rubs a magic lamp and asks a genie (Gene Sheldon) to help him get in the army. The problem is that he’s always sent to the wrong era in history. He ends up with George Washington’s troops at Valley Forge and as a member of Columbus’ crew. In each episode he meets the same two women: the one he thinks he’s in love with (June Haver) and the faithful girl who loves him (Joan). By the end of the film MacMurray is back in 1945 as a marine marching off to war with Joan by his side.
The melodious Kurt Weill score and lyrics by Ira Gershwin added to the fun and originality of Where Do We Go from Here?, which was certainly a cut above the next batch at Warners. First was Cinderella Jones (1946), a wartime musical that marked director Busby Berkeley’s first film at Warners since leaving the studio for MGM in 1939. Unfortunately, Cinderella Jones had none of the ingenuity or sophistication of his previous Warners efforts. Joan played a dim bulb named Judy Jones, who stands to inherit ten million dollars if she marries a man of extremely high intelligence by a certain date. In trying to find her brilliant mate, she falls for bandleader Tommy Coles (Robert Alda), a man with looks and, as she discovers just in time for the finale, brains as well. Along the way she ends up in a number of ridiculous escapades, such as slipping laundry soap in cheese sandwiches.
Cinderella Jones was actually completed in 1944, but Warners decided to keep it on the shelf for two years so it would follow the release of Joan’s next film, Rhapsody in Blue (1945), a misguided attempt to dramatize the life of George Gershwin. Alda played the composer, and the studio believed it would be a more prestigious film debut than the flimsy Cinderella Jones. Unfortunately, Rhapsody in Blue suffered from a routine screenplay that shed little light on the troubled Gershwin’s drive for success, which led to his untimely death. Joan played a fictitious character named Julie Adams who, along with Alexis Smith as a slick socialite, vied for Gershwin’s affections. Joan was given a few Gershwin standards to perform, including “Somebody Loves Me” and “Delicious,” which were dubbed by Sally Sweetland. Joan admittedly was always anxious about singing on-screen, and was especially pleased with Sweetland’s interpretations. “She did a beautiful job of sounding lovely, but sounding like an actress singing, instead of like a singer singing. She didn’t just sing in perfect voice, she sang the words like she meant the meaning of them, and I loved that,” Joan said.
Joan enjoyed the challenge of Too Young to Know (1945), her first stab at domestic drama. As the wife of an Army captain (Robert Hutton), Joan dealt with serious issues, including giving away her child. Though Crowther labeled the film “a thoroughly amateurish job,” Joan regards it as a breakout role. “I felt that I underwent a certain growth during that picture. I played a wife and a mother, and had some scenes that were wrenching, and I felt good about it,” she said.
Finally, Warners released Cinderella Jones, which did more harm than good to Joan’s career. Since the film had been gathering dust for two years, the studio decided to re-edit it to delete wartime-related scenes and references so that it wouldn’t look dated. Instead, it just looked foolish and incomprehensible. The film dashed any hopes of ever building Robert Alda into a star, and Joan, likewise, was beginning to feel that Warners was losing interest in her.
Janie Gets Married (1946), the sequel to the hit Janie (1944), didn’t ease her concerns. Joan took over as Janie, played in the first film by Joyce Reynolds, and was again paired with Robert Hutton as her new husband. Though Joan enjoyed her reunion with director Vincent Sherman, who helped her turn in an excellent performance in The Hard Way, Janie Gets Married was much thinner material. The light as a feather comedy concerned the problems the newlyweds confront during their first year of marriage. The supporting cast, which included Edward Arnold, Ann Harding and, in his last role, Robert Benchley, fared better than the two leads. “Her picture is as childish and bromidic as was her first reckless, juvenile farce,” said The New York Times.
Considering the careful build-up and quality projects Joan had previously been accustomed to, she was understandably angered by the poor roles she was now being given. Joan’s lawyer explained to her that a loophole in California law allowed anyone who signed a contract as a minor to reconsider the contract when they turned 21. She notified the studio through her lawyer that she disaffirmed her minority contract. Warners met her challenge by formally exercising its option on her services and suspending her salary. Thus, a series of lengthy legal proceedings began between both parties, with Warners even seeing to it that no other major studio would hire Joan. At one point Joan had announced that she would appear in The Chase (1946) and Lured (1947), two thrillers for United Artists. Warners obtained an injunction preventing her from making both films. When the injunction was voided, Warners appealed to the California Supreme Court. By that time, Michele Morgan had gotten The Chase and Lucille Ball was given Lured.
The case went to the District Court of Appeals, where there was a split decision, with Warners ultimately winning. Joan soon learned that the original loophole her lawyer discovered also had a loophole. The law stated that any minor can disaffirm a contract—unless the party in question is a jockey, prizefighter, actor or actress. Though the studio was the victor, Warners gave Joan her freedom and a settlement was reached. At the same time, a gentleman’s agreement was declared, in which the other studios agreed not to use Joan, who was labeled “difficult.”
Joan’s final Warners release, completed before litigation began, was Two Guys from Milwaukee (1946), with Dennis Morgan and Jack Carson. Warners saw Morgan and Carson as its answer to Bob Hope and Bing Crosby. As such, the focus of this comedy was on Morgan as a prince and Carson as the cabbie he befriends during his stay in the United States. Joan was supposed to be the pair’s version of Dorothy Lamour, who is wooed by both men. Though the movie was Joan’s most entertaining feature since Where Do We Go from Here?, her male co-stars and vivacious Janis Paige seemed to be having all the fun.
Worst of all, Morgan and Carson got billing before the title, while Joan was third-billed after the title. She filed a second suit against the studio for $2.725 million with the Federal court and asked for a restraining order to prevent Two Guys from Milwaukee from being shown until she was also given top billing. Joan claimed the studio promised her star billing alongside Morgan and Carson, but that her previous lawsuit fueled her demotion because of “malice and ill will” on Warners’ part. She added that Warners’ action was “intended to implant in the minds of the theatrical profession that she had lost her position as a star actress by reason of inferior ability.”
Joan lost the case and the film was released with her below-the-title billing still intact. The film ended up being one of Warners’ top grossers of 1946.
Thanks to Warners’ injunction, Joan remained offscreen for nearly two years. Most of her time was spent conferring with lawyers. Joan finally found work with Eagle-Lion Films, a low-budget studio that poured more money than usual into Repeat Performance (1947), its first venture with Joan. Repeat Performance had an interesting premise, even if the execution was not completely successful. Joan played Sheila, an actress who murders her scoundrel of a husband (Louis Hayward) after catching him with another woman (Virginia Field) one New Year’s Eve. Feeling remorseful for her crime, she turns to her friend, producer John Friday (Tom Conway), a man who seems to have the power to let her relive the events of the past year. The rest of the film hinged on whether she could keep from committing her crime all over again.
Repeat Performance was an attempt for Joan to graduate from ingenue roles. Eagle-Lion even tried to promote the film by giving Joan a sexier image. Joan learned about the marketing ploy quite by accident. When she arrived in New York for the film’s opening, she took a cab from the airport to Eagle-Lion’s eastern office. On the way, she spotted a huge billboard ad for Repeat Performance that depicted her holding a gun with a rather revealing nightgown falling off of her bare shoulder. Joan was both embarrassed and furious by the ridiculous ad. When she arrived at Eagle-Lion, she immediately demanded that the studio have the billboard taken down.
Of course, it wasn’t, not that it helped generate business anyway. Joan did her best with the Walter Bullock screenplay, but she seemed uncomfortable playing a New York sophisticate. The film also lacked the craftsmanship of her Warners vehicles, starting with director Alfred Werker’s inability to develop the mystical feeling or brooding atmosphere that the story required. Repeat Performance did, at least, provide a boost to Richard Basehart, who was effective in his screen debut. Joan, however, was not as well served. Both she and the film received poor notices.
“Not only is dramatic credibility completely lacking in all this stew but the whole thing is done with such pretension that even the possible salve of ridicule is missed,” Crowther said. “Joan Leslie plays the tortured female with childish anxiety.”
Joan’s only other film for Eagle-Lion was Northwest Stampede (1948), in which she played a rancher vying with James Craig for some prized horses and getting him in the bargain. Though the plot covered familiar turf, Joan loved the Canadian Northwest, where the film was shot, and the chance to do some horseback riding.
Joan was off the screen for nearly two years before appearing in the Joan Fontaine potboiler Born to Be Bad (1950) at RKO, which seemed to work better as campy fun than serious drama. Joan had a good supporting role as Zachary Scott’s loyal fiancée whose engagement is destroyed by the manipulations of her conniving cousin, Cristabel (Fontaine). Joan, who was just shy of 25, enjoyed finally being allowed to portray a career woman, in this case, a book editor.
“I played a mature person,” Joan said with pride. “So many of the other films I did were too useful, but not representative of any maturity on my part. Not only did they photograph me well, but Nicholas Ray worked on my voice a little. He was determined to make me a proper nemesis for Joan Fontaine.”
Ray succeeded and guided Joan to a fine performance, particularly during the climactic scene when she confronts the seemingly sweet Cristabel, whom she now realizes is “as helpless as a wildcat.”
Joan’s appearance in Born to Be Bad also attracted the attention of RKO head Howard Hughes, who summoned her to his office to talk about her career. Sensing that Hughes wanted to offer Joan a contract, her lawyer and agent both advised her not to make a commitment. They feared he wanted to lock her into an agreement similar to the one he had with Jane Russell, in which she’d be under exclusive contract to Hughes at a flat salary and would be forced to appear in any role he decided on.
Hughes’ proposal was exactly as Joan’s representatives predicted. Though Joan found Hughes charming and gracious, she politely turned him down.
Still a free agent, Joan was happy to report to MGM to co-star opposite Robert Walker in The Skipper Surprised His Wife (1950), a mild comedy which was to be directed by Vincente Minnelli, who dropped out to do Father of the Bride (1950). Elliott Nugent instead helmed the domestic yarn about a sailor (Walker) who tries to run his home as tightly as he runs his ship.
Joan’s only sad memory of making The Skipper Surprised His Wife (1950) was that her mother died during production. When she returned from the funeral, Walker offered his condolences. Joan appreciated his sympathy, and said, “This is difficult, but it was something we had to go through. I’m sure you’ve lost someone who was very dear to you.” Walker responded, “No, Joan, I never have.” Joan seemed surprised that he had forgotten losing his former wife, Jennifer Jones, to producer David O. Selznick five years earlier.
Joan was drawn to Walker and admitted, “we very easily could have become better than friends, but I was already interested in a very handsome young doctor.” Joan’s new love was Dr. William Caldwell, a Los Angeles physician she had begun dating in 1949. Following a seven-month courtship, they were married on March 17, 1950, in a quiet ceremony at Our Lady of Sorrows Church in Santa Barbara, California. Only immediate family members and a few close friends attended the ceremony.
Following Man in the Saddle (1951), a typical Randolph Scott horse opera at Columbia, and Hellgate (1952), a Sterling Hayden actioner, Joan signed a contract with Republic Pictures, the low-budget studio that specialized in popcorn fare, such as Roy Rogers westerns and Judy Canova hillbilly comedies. Republic had also become a stomping ground for many stars, such as MacDonald Carey and Ruth Hussey, that had been dropped by larger studios. While Republic was no match for Warner Bros. in terms of the quality of its films, Joan was treated well. She was given leading lady status and paid handsomely for her efforts. “I earned more on one picture at Republic than I did during five years at Warner Bros.,” she said.
One of her favorite roles at Republic was the lead in Flight Nurse (1953), which was based on the real-life exploits of a Korean War nurse who worked with the injured both on the front line and on the aircraft that brought them home. Screenwriter Alan Le May also involved the nurse in a romantic triangle between two officers (Forrest Tucker and Arthur Franz).
Of the five films she did for Republic, Jubilee Trail (1954) was the most polished. Though Republic chief of production Herbert J. Yates aimed to showcase his wife, Vera Ralston, as a flashy New Orleans belle named Florinda, it was Joan’s restrained and affecting performance as a genteel widow whom she befriends that kept the movie afloat. In reviewing the performances of both women, The New York Times noted, “With these two to the fore throughout, Miss Leslie’s performance, luckily, remains at least forthright.”
Joan left Republic, which was suffering from financial difficulties, in 1955 and made only one more film. The Revolt of Mamie Stover (1956) was a sanitized version of William Bradford Huie’s novel about a madam in Honolulu. In the film, Mamie (Jane Russell) was a dance hall girl rather than a member of the world’s oldest profession. Joan played an heiress competing with Mamie for the love of an egotistic writer (Richard Egan). Considering the cast involved and the plot’s potential, the movie seemed devoid of sex, which was the essence of the novel.
By this point Joan seemed less motivated to appear before the cameras. Her husband was a successful obstetrician and gynecologist with his own private practice. Joan also wanted to spend more time with her daughters, Patrice and Ellen, identical twins born on January 5, 1951. “My daughters were five years old. I felt that they had reached the age where they needed me, but I never retired officially,” Joan said. “I didn’t close any doors behind me. Bill has always said that as long as it wasn’t too hard for me, and that it was something I enjoyed, I should work if and when I wanted to.”
Joan did make occasional guest appearances on television, starting back in 1951 with a guest spot on Bigelow-Sanford Theatre. Throughout the 1950s she also showed up in several episodes of Fireside Theater, Schlitz Playhouse of Stars, Lux Video Theater and Ford Theater.
“Doing television was wonderful. I liked the acting, I liked the way they were shot, very rapidly, and the direction seemed more crisp than films,” she said.
Throughout the next few decades Joan also devoted much of her time to charity work for the St. Anne Home for Unwed Mothers. Joan’s husband had been doing volunteer work for St. Anne’s prior to meeting Joan, and through him she became involved with the home. During her forty-plus years with St. Anne’s, Joan has chaired many fund-raising committees and arranged numerous special events.
In recent years Joan has made sporadic television appearances, including guest spots on Branded, Police Story, Charlie’s Angels and Simon and Simon. Joan’s most recent television appearances were in an episode of Murder, She Wrote, still looking as charming and fresh-faced as she did forty years earlier, and a cameo in the made-for-television movie Turn Back the Clock (1989), a remake of Repeat Performance.
Joan continues to make personal appearances at various film screenings and festivals. When she and Vincent Sherman attended the film group Cinephile’s 1994 screening of The Hard Way, the crowd went wild. Both were greeted by thunderous applause, and after the film spent well over an hour answering questions and signing autographs. And to fans’ pleasure, the now mature woman had aged very little from the sprightly performer who cavorted through the musical number “Youth Must Have Its Fling” in that movie.
Joan resides in Los Angeles, and has retained her zest for living, even though she faced the most difficult moment in her life when her beloved husband died in May 2000. Joan treasured her life away from the film world and never looked back at what might have happened if she had opted for the stardom that Howard Hughes had once offered her: “I met this wonderful man and I spent fifty years of my life with him, and I have absolutely no regrets.”
Camille (MGM, 1937) Directed by George Cukor. Cast: Greta Garbo, Robert Taylor, Lionel Barrymore, Henry Daniell, Elizabeth Allen, Lenore Ulric, Laura Hope Crews. (Joan was unbilled.)
Men with Wings (Paramount, 1938) Directed by William A. Wellman. Cast: Fred MacMurray, Ray Milland, Louise Campbell, Andy Devine, Lynne Overman, Porter Hall. (Joan was unbilled.)
Nancy Drew, Reporter (Warner Bros., 1938) Directed by William Clemens. Cast: Bonita Granville, Frankie Thomas, John Litel, Frank Orth, Renie Riano. (Joan was unbilled.)
Love Affair (RKO Radio, 1939) Directed by Leo McCarey. Cast: Charles Boyer, Irene Dunne, Maria Ouspenskaya, Lee Bowman, Astrid Allwyn, Maurice Moscovitch. (Joan was unbilled.)
Winter Carnival (Wanger-United Artists, 1939) Directed by Charles F. Riesner. Cast: Ann Sheridan, Richard Carlson, Helen Parrish, James Corner, Robert Armstrong, Joan Brodel (Leslie).
Two Thoroughbreds (RKO Radio, 1939) Directed by Jack Hively. Cast: Jimmy Lydon, Arthur Hohl, Marjorie Main, Joan Brodel (Leslie), J.L. Kerrigan, Selmar Jackson, Spencer Charters.
High School (20th Century–Fox, 1940) Directed by George Nicholls, Jr. Cast: Jane Withers, Joe Brown, Jr., Paul Harvey, Lloyd Corrigan, Cliff Edwards, Claire Du Brey. (Joan was unbilled.)
Young as You Feel (20th Century–Fox, 1940) Directed by Malcolm St. Clair. Cast: Jed Prouty, Spring Byington, June Carlson, Billy Mahan, Florence Roberts. (Joan was unbilled.)
Star Dust (20th Century–Fox, 1940) Directed by Walter Lang. Cast: Linda Darnell, John Payne, Roland Young, William Gargan, Charlotte Greenwood, Mary Beth Hughes. (Joan was unbilled.)
Susan and God (MGM, 1940) Directed by George Cukor. Cast: Joan Crawford, Fredric March, Ruth Hussey, John Carroll, Rita Hayworth, Nigel Bruce, Bruce Cabot, Rita Quigley, Rose Hobart, Constance Collier, Gloria De Haven, Marjorie Main. (Joan was unbilled.)
Military Academy (Columbia, 1940) Directed by D. Ross Lederman. Cast: Bobby Jordan, Jimmy Butler, Tommy Kelly, Jackie Searl, David Holt, Walter Tetley, Joan Brodel (Leslie).
Foreign Correspondent (Wanger-United Artists, 1940) Directed by Alfred Hitchcock. Cast: Joel McCrea, Laraine Day, Herbert Marshall, George Sanders, Albert Basserman, Edmund Gwenn, Eduardo Ciannelli, Robert Benchley, Harry Davenport. (Joan was unbilled.)
Laddie (RKO Radio, 1940) Directed by Jack Hively. Cast: Tim Holt, Virginia Gilmore, Joan Carroll, Spring Byington, Robert Barrat, Miles Mander, Esther Dale, Joan Brodel (Leslie).
Alice in Movieland (Warner Bros., 1940) Directed by Jean Negulesco. Cast: Joan Leslie, David Bruce, Clarence Muse, Nana Bryant, Clara Blandick.
High Sierra (Warner Bros., 1941) Directed by Raoul Walsh. Cast: Ida Lupino, Humphrey Bogart, Joan Leslie, Henry Travers, Arthur Kennedy, Alan Curtis, Henry Hull, Elisabeth Risdon.
The Great Mr. Nobody (Warner Bros., 1941) Directed by Ben Stoloff. Cast: Eddie Albert, Joan Leslie, Alan Hale, John Litel, William Lundigan, Dickie Moore, Paul Hurst, Billy Benedict.
The Wagons Roll at Night (Warner Bros., 1941) Directed by Ray Enright. Cast: Humphrey Bogart, Sylvia Sidney, Eddie Albert, Joan Leslie, Cliff Clark, Charles Foy, Sig Rumann.
Thieves Fall Out (Warner Bros., 1941) Directed by Ray Enright. Cast: Eddie Albert, Joan Leslie, Jane Darwell, Alan Hale, William T. Orr, John Litel, Anthony Quinn, Edward Brophy.
Sergeant York (Warner Bros., 1941) Directed by Howard Hawks. Cast: Gary Cooper, Walter Brennan, Joan Leslie, Stanley Ridges, George Tobias, Ward Bond, Margaret Wycherley.
The Male Animal (Warner Bros., 1942) Directed by Elliott Nugent. Cast: Henry Fonda, Olivia de Havilland, Jack Carson, Joan Leslie, Eugene Pallette, Herbert Anderson, Don De Fore.
Yankee Doodle Dandy (Warner Bros., 1942) Directed by Michael Curtiz. Cast: James Cagney, Joan Leslie, Walter Huston, Rosemary De Camp, Jeanne Cagney, Richard Whorf, Irene Manning.
The Hard Way (Warner Bros., 1943) Directed by Vincent Sherman. Cast: Ida Lupino, Dennis Morgan, Joan Leslie, Jack Carson, Gladys George, Roman Bohnen, Faye Emerson.
This Is the Army (Warner Bros., 1943) Directed by Michael Curtiz. Cast: George Murphy, Ronald Reagan, Joan Leslie, Charles Butterworth, George Tobias, Stanley Ridges, Alan Hale, Dolores Costello, Frances Langford, Gertrude Niesen, Kate Smith, Sgt. Joe Louis, Irving Berlin.
The Sky’s the Limit (RKO Radio, 1943) Directed by Edward H. Griffith. Cast: Fred Astaire, Joan Leslie, Robert Benchley, Elizabeth Patterson, Clarence Kolb, Robert Ryan, Richard Davies.
Thank Your Lucky Stars (Warner Bros., 1943) Directed by David Butler. Cast: Dennis Morgan, Joan Leslie, Edward Everett Horton, S.Z. Sakall. Guest Stars: Humphrey Bogart, Eddie Cantor, Jack Carson, Bette Davis, Olivia de Havilland, Errol Flynn, John Garfield, Alan Hale, Spike Jones and his orchestra, Ida Lupino, Hattie McDaniel, Ann Sheridan, Alexis Smith.
Hollywood Canteen (Warner Bros., 1944) Directed by Delmer Daves. Cast: Joan Leslie, Robert Hutton, Janis Paige, Dane Clark. Guest Stars: The Andrews Sisters, Jack Benny, Joe E. Brown, Eddie Cantor, Kitty Carlisle, Jack Carson, Joan Crawford, Helmut Dantine, Bette Davis, Faye Emerson, John Garfield, Sydney Greenstreet, Alan Hale, Paul Henreid, Andrea King, Peter Lorre, Ida Lupino, Irene Manning, Dolores Moran, Dennis Morgan, Eleanor Parker, Roy Rogers, Zachary Scott, Alexis Smith, Barbara Stanwyck, Craig Stevens, Jane Wyman.
Where Do We Go from Here? (20th Century–Fox, 1945) Directed by Gregory Ratoff. Cast: Fred MacMurray, June Haver, Joan Leslie, Gene Sheldon, Anthony Quinn, Carlos Ramirez.
Rhapsody in Blue (Warner Bros., 1945) Directed by Irving Rapper. Cast: Robert Alda, Alexis Smith, Joan Leslie, Charles Coburn, Oscar Levant, Julie Bishop, Herbert Rudley, Albert Basserman, Morris Carnovsky, Rosemary De Camp, Darryl Hickman; with guest appearances by Al Jolson, Hazel Scott, Anne Brown, George White, and Paul Whiteman and his orchestra.
Too Young to Know (Warner Bros., 1945) Directed by Frederick De Cordova. Cast: Joan Leslie, Robert Hutton, Dolores Moran, Harry Davenport, Rosemary De Camp, Barbara Brown.
Cinderella Jones (Warner Bros., 1946) Directed by Busby Berkeley. Cast: Joan Leslie, Robert Alda, Julie Bishop, William Prince, S.Z. Sakall, Edward Everett Horton, Ruth Donnelly.
Janie Gets Married (Warner Bros., 1946) Directed by Vincent Sherman. Cast: Joan Leslie, Robert Hutton, Robert Benchley, Edward Arnold, Ann Harding, Dorothy Malone, Donald Meek.
Two Guys from Milwaukee (Warner Bros., 1946) Directed by David Butler. Cast: Dennis Morgan, Jack Carson, Joan Leslie, Janis Paige, S.Z. Sakall, Patti Brady, Rosemary De Camp, Franklin Pangborn; cameo appearances by Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall.
Repeat Performance (Eagle-Lion, 1947) Directed by Alfred Werker. Cast: Joan Leslie, Louis Hayward, Tom Conway, Richard Basehart, Virginia Field, Natalie Schaefer, Benay Venuta.
Northwest Stampede (Eagle-Lion, 1948) Directed by Albert Rogell. Cast: James Craig, Joan Leslie, Jack Oakie, Chill Wills, Victor Kilian, Kermit Maynard, Stanley Andrews.
The Skipper Surprised His Wife (MGM, 1950) Directed by Elliott Nugent. Cast: Robert Walker, Joan Leslie, Edward Arnold, Spring Byington, Jan Sterling, Leon Ames, Paul Harvey.
Born to Be Bad (RKO Radio, 1950) Directed by Nicholas Ray. Cast: Joan Fontaine, Robert Ryan, Zachary Scott, Joan Leslie, Mel Ferrer, Virginia Farmer, Harold Vermilyea, Irving Bacon.
Man in the Saddle (Columbia, 1951) Directed by Andre de Toth. Cast: Randolph Scott, Alexander Knox, Joan Leslie, Ellen Drew, Richard Rober, Cameron Mitchell, John Russell.
Hellgate (Commander-Lippert, 1952) Directed by Charles Marquis Warren. Cast: Sterling Hayden, Ward Bond, Joan Leslie, James Arness, Peter Coe.
The Woman They Almost Lynched (Republic, 1952) Directed by Allan Dwan. Cast: Joan Leslie, Audrey Totter, John Lund, Brian Donlevy, Ben Cooper, Reed Hadley, Ann Savage.
Flight Nurse (Republic, 1953) Directed by Allan Dwan. Cast: Joan Leslie, Forrest Tucker, Arthur Franz, Jeff Donnell, Ben Cooper, Maria Palmer, James Brown, James Holden.
Jubilee Trail (Republic, 1954) Directed by Joseph Kane. Cast: Vera Ralston, Joan Leslie, Forrest Tucker, Pat O’Brien, John Russell, Ray Middleton, Glenn Strange, Grant Withers.
Hell’s Outpost (Republic, 1955) Directed by Joseph Kane. Cast: Rod Cameron, Joan Leslie, Chill Wills, John Russell, Barton MacLane, Ben Cooper, Taylor Holmes, Kristine Miller.
The Revolt of Mamie Stover (20th Century–Fox, 1956) Directed by Raoul Walsh. Cast: Jane Russell, Richard Egan, Agnes Moorehead, Joan Leslie, Jorja Curtwright, Jean Willes.
The Keegans (1976). Cast: Adam Roarke, Spencer Milligan, Heather Menzies, Joan Leslie.
Turn Back the Clock (1989) Cast: Connie Selleca, David Dukes, Gene Barry, Joan Leslie.
Fire in the Dark (1991) Cast: Olympia Dukakis, Lindsay Wagner, Jean Stapleton, Joan Leslie.