Joyce Bevan lights up American Legion Post 449 with gift of music

Joyce Bevan speaks universal language of music at Legion Post

BROOKFIELD (WITI) -- At the American Legion Post 449 in Brookfield, military veterans come to share their war stories.

"Back in 1963, when I was in the service in Fort Jackson in South Carolina, I was in a Fox Hole the day John Kennedy was killed. It was quite a hair-raising experience from my end of it," Jim Thode said.

Meanwhile, the background music has a story all its own.

"I left England in the late 40s. I married an American soldier after the second World War, who was stationed there," Joyce Bevan said.

English transplant Joyce Bevan has been speaking through her piano -- tickling the ivories for half a century.

"I never talk about my age. I'm old. I'm in my 70s and I'm very happy to be who I am, and thank the Lord, for letting me be here," Bevan said.

Bevan is one of those performers whose life sounds like a legend. She learned to play in the dark -- during the air raids of World War II.

"I would sit and play the piano and pick up -- because I can't read music at all -- and I just thought if something happens that I get blinded in an air raid, I'll be able to play the piano," Bevan said.

Bevan can see through her rose-colored glasses, but to this day, she still doesn't read music -- just her handwritten reminders of the lyrics.

"A person who reads music and is a concert pianist, they would hear all the mistakes I'm making, but I do it my way!" Bevan said.

Bevan is something of a sequined Sinatra -- playing an swaying with glitz and glitter.

"I decided when I became an entertainer, when you're an entertainer, dress like an entertainer. Nowadays it's hard to see women go out and dress glitzy, but that's my thing, and I think it adds to the atmosphere, you know? People like that," Bevan said.

The performance is a two-hour tour de force, pausing only when she's parched. When the music starts again, her bejeweled fingers clack the keys, and it's hard not to slap the bar along with her and crack a smile.

"You see somebody with a smile on their face, and you know you're touching their heart," Bevan said.

Bevan's voice punctuates the piano with "oohs" and "whoos."

"As long as I can make someone happy, that makes me happy," Bevan said.

Bevan performs out of a sense of patriotism and pain. Bevan's son Randy died on the battlefield.

"He was killed in Vietnam. He was 19. What can I say?" Bevan said.

In a way, Bevan's son's memory lives on in her music.

"I want to bring back a memory. I want to make 'em happy while they're here and make 'em feel welcome in our post," Bevan said.

Every Friday night, as the vets gather in Post 449 to share their stories, Bevan shares hers -- speaking the universal language.