Modern Screen (Jan-Nov 1952)

hey, good lookin'! (Continued from page 70) was at a church convention. The speech started formal and stayed formal — but not the delivery. Into that she put something so human that her audience was soon captivated, rocking with amusement one moment and both warmed and thrilled the next. That's Joyce Holden. She's not unlike Carole Lombard in her spirit, nor unlike Lupe Velez in her gift for spontaneity, nor unlike Imogene Coca in her flair for mimicry. Medium-tall and flawlessly fair, with blue eyes and blonde hair that could have come from any — or all — of four lines of forebears, Swedish, English, German and Dutch, Joyce is all-woman. And she's so happily and unaffectedly all-woman that she convinces everyone who meets her that this must be the most wonderful of things to be. That she has a genuine joy of life seems to be the key of her success in meeting people — failure to respond to her is like admitting life means little. At the Modern Screen cocktail party held a few months ago she entered knowing only a few of the guests. But those few were kept busy by their friends begging for introductions. She left knowing nearly two hundred. She had danced with a half dozen, compared notes with 20 more, and found things to talk and laugh about with all of them. Bill Holden was brought over to meet name r he her. "Is Holden your real asked. "It isn't mine." "Nor mine," quickly responded Joyce. "Who are we?" "Friends, by George!" replied Bill, delighted with an introduction that was painless in contrast to the many that have to be propped up with stilted conversation. Bob Mitchum, who scoffs at formalities, met her for the first time at the same affair and delivered a verdict about her in his own expressive way later. "Elegant!" he said. "Yet as casual as a postcard." How did she come to be that way? Joyce, whose father was a sheet metal contractor, and whose mother was an employment counselor when she was born in Kansas City 21 years ago, has no special explanation. She likes people. She can find things to talk about with anyone, anywhere, and get a kick out of it. And she remembers that when she was nine years old she had to take a new look at life — her parents divorced. Her mother, with whom she and her older brother, Glen, stayed, had to go to work, and Joyce had to do the buying and cooking after school. With less time to play she learned to squeeze the most out of what she did get. "I just couldn't afford to wait on events, or my playmates," she remembers. "I had to make my own happiness. I couldn't waste time being shy or different. I had to get enough fun out of minutes to last me for hours, and I had to get it out of what was near me, not out of dreams of the far-off and impossible." Delease from her kitchen duties came A to Joyce when she was entering high school; her grandparents came to live with them and her grandmother took over the meals and housework. Time hung so heavily on her hands now that she started off a half dozen activities at one time, including modeling, singing, dancing and drawing. She won a scholarship at the Kansas City Art Institute with her drawing, modeled professionally at Harzfeld's department store (where they assumed she was 17) and got herself loused up socially in high school with her dancing. This last happened when she responded to a call for volunteers to entertain at a fapp/ness ...Ml ([Our Don't Fail to Read These Frank Facts About the Most Intimate Concern of Your Life... It's a tragedy that so many young women keep up with the latest fashions and hairdo's yet remain so woefully old-fashioned , (really uninformed)about the mostintimate con cern of their lives — internal feminine cleanliness. 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