The Impact on Edna Ferber–Part Three

We have no idea how or why Edna Ferber decided to use spirituals as the central theme of her novel, Show Boat; we only know that she did. This is her story, derived from her novel and the words she used in that novel.

Once again, in order to explain this spiritual to you, we are again going to provide a lengthy quote from my book, A Spiritual Journey Through Musicals and Movies:

In the plots of Ferber’s novels, there is a theme that is repeated over and over again: women are left in difficult predicaments and must use tenacious courage to will their way to success. Ferber lays out societal injustices but does not take sides on broader issues; she skillfully lets her heroines overcome the long odds. She settles for personal victories on the part of her heroines, because she believes that the basic illness of hate, prejudice and bigotry cannot be overcome in any credible fashion in the course of a novel. If she flew upward in the face of reality, she would have been writing fantasy, not fiction. 

In the novel, Magnolia defies her mother by befriending Julie Dozier, an actress, and Queenie and Jo, the black kitchen help on the show boat. It is crucial for the reader to note that Magnolia does not defy her mother out of spite; Magnolia genuinely disagrees with her mother’s point of view and genuinely enjoys the company of Julie, Queenie and Jo. Why Magnolia likes these people is consistent with the fact she also genuinely likes Negro spirituals and can feel the power of the music transport her beyond the realm of mere entertainment. This is the core message of the novel, and the novel’s credibility depends on our acceptance of this core belief. 

Ferber would also have been aware of the Harlem Renaissance and the renewed interest in Negro spirituals in 1924 and 1925 before she left for Europe. She would have been aware of the articles written by Carl Van Vechten, a man that Todd Decker calls “a white advocate for black musicians and writers.” Decker informs us that the Urban League in its journal, Opportunity, and the Herald Tribune both wrote glowing articles about “the poignant charm of Negro folk songs.” 

I think Ferber used a very interesting literary device when she decided to create Magnolia’s character as she did. While the popularity of spirituals waxes and wanes, the power of the music remains constant, which gives it lasting value over time. I believe that the lasting value stems from the intrinsic nature of the subject matter, the transcendent nature of music that recognized the strictures of an enslaved body but an unfettered soul. 

We now turn to the second relationship that Magnolia Hawks formed, a warm family atmosphere in the kitchen of the Cotton Blossom. It is not so much a personal attachment as it is a bond created by a mutual love of a particular form of music—spirituals. This mutual love of music forges a more lasting bond, for it is through this relationship that Nola learns to sing these spirituals. 

Magnolia’s love of this music is at the core of the novel and becomes the core of the musical adaptation. The significance of the novel is that, in my view, Ferber replaces the love of one person for another with a love of substance, the transcendent power of music. 

In Chapter 6, Ferber explains how the young girl came to learn how to sing spirituals: “Magnolia liked to loiter in the big, low-raftered kitchen. It was a place of pleasant smells and sights and sounds. It was here that she learned Negro spirituals from Jo and cooking from Queenie.” 

In these few pages, Ferber provides details of Nola’s education, including the names of famous spirituals. 

“ ‘Which one, Miss Magnolia?’

“ ‘I Got Shoes,’ Magnolia would answer promptly.

“Jo would throw back his head, his somber eyes half shut” and sing the song for the child. 

Ferber described the song in terms of: “The longing of a footsore, ragged, driven race expressed in the tragically childlike terms of shoes, white robes, wings, and the wise and simple insight into hypocrisy: ‘Ev’rybody talkin’ ‘bout Heavn’n ain’t goin’ there….’ 

“ ‘Now which one?’ His fingers still picking the strings [of his banjo], ready at a word to slip into the opening chords of the next song. 

“ ‘Go Down, Moses.’ 

“She liked this one—at once the most majestic and supplicating of all the Negro folk songs—because it always made her cry a little. Sometimes Queenie, busy at the stove or the kitchen table, joined in with her rich camp-meeting voice. Jo’s voice was a reedy tenor, but soft and husky with the indescribable Negro vocal quality. Magnolia soon knew the tune and the words of every song in Jo’s repertoire. Unconsciously, being an excellent mimic, she sang as Jo and Queenie sang, her head thrown slightly back, her eyes rolling or half closed, one foot beating rhythmic time to the music’s cadence. Her voice was true, though mediocre; but she got into this the hoarsely sweet Negro overtone—purple velvet muffling a flute.” 

Note the way Ferber describes this transcendence: “So, filled with the healthy ecstasy of song, the Negro man and woman and the white child would sit in deep contentment in the show-boat kitchen.” 

Ferber leaves no doubt in our minds; the Negro spiritual is at the heart of Magnolia’s very being, as critical to her spiritual existence as food and drink was to her physical existence. It is the “healthy ecstasy of song” that provided “deep contentment” of Magnolia’s soul. In the novel, we see everything through the eyes of Magnolia; in the musical, we will see everything through the eyes of Julie and Joe.

This ends the excerpts from my book for this post; it is time to move on to the next post and meet one of the most fascinating men we will ever discuss.