Carl Sandburg once said that it was appropriate that Lincoln’s face
be on the penny. Since he was a champion of the common man, Lincoln
would’ve considered it an honor to be on the coin found in the pockets
of everyman. But that being said, if there was a line of reasoning
about assigning value to various people, then it ended right there
with the one cent piece.
Scales of importance for historical figures is difficult to say
the least. Sure, everyone knows Aaron Burr shot Alexander Hamilton
in a duel - but is that reason enough to have his face on a twenty
while Washington is on the single?
Note to younger readers: Aaron Burr did not play Perry Mason.
a value system for personalities on coinage or postage makes no
sensage. But when the half-baked plans of the Bureau of Printing
and Engraving are compared to the U. S. Postal Service - the P&E
people come off as brilliant.
For some reason there’s an insular attitude when it comes to what
faces go on our stamps. Other nations regularly and routinely honor
“foreigners,” but not us. Traditionally, there are two major requirements
to be on a U. S. stamp. Firstly, one should be American and secondly,
one should be dead.
Note: For many years there was only one exception - a living
member of the Women’s Army Corps who posed in uniform for a stamp
honoring women in the military.
ago we reached the barrel bottom when we started letting cartoon
characters (but at least they were American cartoon characters).
appear on stamps. So, when a write-in campaign to have a stamp for
the racehorse Seabiscuit was begun - you’d think it would be a sure
thing. He was both American and dead. He was, however, an animal
- which might've been a sticking point.
Note to the postal people - if a Seabiscuit stamp isn’t forthcoming
we’ll be forced to bring up the birthplaces of both Daffy Duck and
Bugs Bunny (Hungarian and Canadian, respectively) and the suspicious
circumstances and possible Congressional influence in the naturalization
of Yosemite Sam.
for a couple of poets, educator Booker T. Washington and Edgar Poe
in the 1930s, writers weren’t normally gummed, perforated and stuck
on envelopes - which was probably okay with them. But if politicians
and patriots are difficult to assign a value to - imaging the nightmare
it would create for authors.
While Faulkner, Hemingway and Steinbeck have all been honored -
as well as a recent stamp for Dr. Suess (cartoons, again), their
stamps at least have been in the realm of reality postage - by that
we mean denominations that are actually seen and used by the letter-sending
public. So has it been with women authors Edith Wharton, Willa Cather
and Dorothy Parker.
Edna Ferber isn’t exactly a household word today, but she at least
deserves to be seen. Does anyone deserve the ignominy of having
their face on an 83-cent stamp? Does America really want one of
its under-appreciated authors on a stamp that no one will see? Most
importantly, do we need an 83-cent stamp in the first place? We
have to say, however, that the image is a good one.
The Woman Edna
Edna Ferber (not
a pen name), died in 1968. The daughter of Jewish immigrants she had
a Midwestern childhood and became a prolific writer of fiction that
was occassionally based on historic fact. While her plays and the
movie versions of them aren’t exactly flying off the shelves today,
her books did in their time. She was the “most popular woman writer
in America” between the World Wars.
Her wit wasn’t as caustic as that of Dorothy Parker, but nevertheless
she had a reserved seat at the famed Algonquin Round Table. Her attendance
was frequent enough that some of Parker’s anecdotes are frequently
attributed to Ferber (and vice versa).
Fellow table mate George S. Kaufman, who co-authored several plays
with Edna, admitted publically: “I’m fond of Edna, but I don’t like
her.” Edna was not only fond of Kaufman, she liked him to the point
where she would've become Mrs. Kaufman, if only he had asked. Marriage
wasn't in the cards for Ferber, whose very first story was called
The Homely Heroine. One of her most famous quotes is: “There is no
denying the fact that writers should be read but not seen. Rarely
are they a winsome sight.” About her role as spinster she said: “Being
an old maid is like death by drowning. It’s really a delightful sensation
after you’ve ceased struggling.”
Her interest once piqued by the words “show boat,” Ferber was surprised
when her research into the subject revealed that there were a few
such dinosaurs still being towed around Southern rivers and bayous
in the 1920s. She tracked one down and to her surprise, she found
the husband/ wife proprietors to be fans of her writing. They had
been performing plays based on her characters. Her visit to the show
boat developed into a long personal friendship and she accompanied
the cast and (tugboat) crew for months. She even sold tickets while
taking her notes and got inspiration firsthand for her famous work.
Texas was a theme in at least two of Ferber’s works. In Cimmaron,
she used a thinly-disguised Temple Lea Houston as her charismatic
main character and Giant became her most famous later work.
She wrote not one, but two autobiographies. The first, A Particular
Treasure was published in 1939 and the second, A Kind of Magic,
appeared in 1963, five years before her death of cancer.
sample of her writing follows:
from That Home Town Feeling
“The woman reeked of the city. I hope you know what I mean. She bore
the stamp and seal, and imprint of it. It had ground its heel down
on her face. At the front of her coat she wore a huge bunch of violets,
with a fleshly tuberose rising from its center. Her furs were voluminous.
Her hat was hidden beneath the cascades of a green willow plume. A
green willow plume would make Edna May look sophisticated. She walked
with that humping hip movement which city women acquire. She carried
a jangling handful of useless gold trinkets. Her heels were too high,
and her hair too yellow, and her lips too red, and her nose too white,
and her cheeks too pink. Everything about her was "too," from the
black stitching on her white gloves to the buckle of brilliants in
her hat. The city had her, body and soul, and had fashioned her in
its metallic cast. You would have sworn that she had never seen flowers
growing in a field. ”
the next time you visit your post office express your outrage at Edna
Ferber being on an 83-cent stamp. Pay no attention when the clerk
says, "Edna, who?" He or she probably didn't even know there was a
83-cent stamp until you brought it up. And while you're there, put
in a vote for Seabiscuit.
Anyone who would like to comment on Edna Ferber, her life and times,
or USPS stamp face-denomination assignment, the editor welcomes your
Escapes, in its purpose to preserve historic, endangered and vanishing
Texas, asks that anyone wishing to share their local history, stories
and recent/vintage/historic photos, please contact