Frank Yerby

"I've written some very bad books."
      - Frank Yerby, 1981.

Actually, what Frank meant was he had written some books that were intended mainly to entertain and that he wanted to sell. That doesn't necessarily mean they were bad books.

Called a "craftsman" of the "costume novel", Frank Yerby was in fact the first African-American to write a best seller that was snapped up by Hollywood. This was The Foxes of Harrow, a novel set in the ante-bellum South and published in 1946. The movie - also a hit - came out the following year and starred - get this - Rex Harrison and Maureen O'Hara.

The plot of The Foxes of Harrow, though, did not focus on the lives of the slaves who labored on the plantations. Instead the protagonist was a rich and somewhat rascalous Irish immigrant who gambled his way to affluence.

Not to say that Frank's depiction of the slaves was as the stereotypical happy and contented "servants" as was common in the literature of the time. Instead the book shows how the plantation owners - even the "hero" - exploited the black population while the story subtly (?) handles the issue of racial mixing in pre-Civil War New Orleans. Say what you like, the Foxes of Harrow ain't no Gone with the Wind.

A sale to Hollywood of a first novel and for a hefty fee was quite a coup for any writer, and because of this windfall, Frank was able to drop his day job. Over the next forty years, Frank wrote - some curmudgeonly critics may prefer "cranked out" - over thirty more novels, many of which were best sellers. Needless to say, his publisher, Dial Press, was quite happy with their new author. That most of Frank's books were also chosen by the Book of the Month Club pushed his sales up even further.

Frank would first dictate his chapters into a tape recorder. Then he would sit down and polish the prose at the typewriter. This modus authorandum let him write faster than other authors of the time, many of whom (such as Ernest Hemingway), would still write their drafts in longhand.

Although later Frank caught some static because he kept writing books which sold well rather than "serious" works of social import, the truth is that a number of critics writing for the black press were happy for Frank and his success. And Frank's own favorite book - which didn't sell as well as some others - was about an African tribal prince kidnapped and sold into slavery.

The lack of definitive ethnic themes in most of Frank's plots can be ascribed at least in part to Frank's own upbringing. In the United States Frank was legally a black man and so subject to all the discrimination that was permitted in the United States until (at least) 1964. On the other hand, his mom was white. Frank also pointed out that his father had at least as much lineage from the Seminole Native Tribe as those from Africa. To accurately describe his heritage, he said, was like categorizing the United Nations.

Still, as we said, legally Frank was a black man. Although in his early years he said he was able to avoid discrimination's worst effects, he later admitted he encountered prejudice regularly. As a black American, he said he had to hunt for restaurants that would serve him, sit for hours while waiters ignored him, and endure servers who sometimes had "accidents" when they would spill a glass of water down his neck.

Then there's the point that Frank's second wife, Blanquita Perez, was white. She was horrified at the hostility they encountered, and even if there was no overt antagonism, they were seen as something of a spectacle. As Frank put it, "Why do I have to have such things as to walk down the street with my wife and have somebody bump into a lamp post looking at us?" Today, of course, such mixed race couples don't raise an eyebrow, but this was the mid-20th century United States. In 1952, Frank moved to France, and then in 1955, he and Blanquita relocated to Spain.

Of course, we must admit there may have been another and more concrete reason why Frank found Spain so congenial. The cost of living there was much less than in the United States, and indeed than in much of Europe. At the same time that Frank settled in Madrid, John A. Keel, then an often-broke writer for men's adventure magazines, also moved to Spain to write his first book, Jadoo, because living was so economical.

In any case, Frank wrote books that he wanted to write, and he wanted to write books that would sell. The costume novel - he used the term himself - was a genre that was primarily to entertain and that was that. "It's escape fiction," he said. "which has its place, because after all, life is pretty rough. Let people escape once in a while."

In later years Frank branched away from the costume/early American plots and began writing more traditional historical novels. True, he said that in some way costume novels were historical novels, but not all historical novels were costume novels. Instead a true historical novel should carry a serious message. Nor were they specifically written to please a wide audience as we see in Frank's book, Judas, My Brother.

Frank doesn't hide his purpose in writing the book:

This novel touches upon only two issues which, in a certain sense, might be called controversial: Whether any man truly has the right to believe fanciful and childish nonsense; and whether any organization has the right to impose, by almost imperial fiat, belief in things that simply are not so.

Judas, My Brother is a retelling of the story of the Gospels, and unusual for a novel, is heavily footnoted. The narrator Nathan bar Yehuda, the "Thirteenth Disciple", first depicts Jesus - called Yeshua in the book (and Yushi to his friends) - as a bumpus arrogant adolescent prig who was both delusional and probably hallucinatory. Yeshua doesn't get along well with his mother, Miriam (Mary), who thinks her son is a nutjob. When she comes to gripe at him for sitting around staring off into space, he tells her to take a hike. Yeshua, on the other hand, is kind to other women, including the neighborhood crazy lady, Miriam of Migdal-Nunaya, that is, Mary Magdalene.

Nathan, despite not understanding Yeshua, became his friend. The two boys also looked a lot alike. In fact - and what is important to the plot - friends and family commented that they could be twins. But Yeshua and Nathan were at different social levels and so drifted apart.

Coming from a wealthy Jewish family, Nathan is sent to be educated in Greece from whence he emerges as a sophisticated "Hellenic" Jew. He later falls in with various bad companions and messes around with the ladies, both high brow and of lower class.

At one point Nathan meets (and surreptitiously marries) Helvetia, a blond haired daughter of a Roman centurion. To escape her dad's wrath, they high-tail it to Rome. After Nathan works at various low-paying, short-term, and menial jobs, Helvetia falls ill. So to make better money, Nathan volunteers for a gladatorial school (free born and well-compensated gladiatorial volunteers were by no means rare). As he is wiry and quick, the lanista makes him a retiarius (a "net man"). Nathan becomes quite successful and wins his freedom and becomes affluent. But Helvetia dies.

Nathan returns to Israel where he meets an old flame, Shelomith (Salome). Shelomith is a, well, a "bad girl" who takes on all comers (no joke intended). At one time her main squeeze had been a ne'er-do-well named Yehudah ish-Kerioth (yes, Judas Iscariot) but she later dumped him.

But Nathan also had been smitten with Shelomith, and then at one point, he finds her cavorting in a shameful manner with some gladiators, charioteers, and soldiers. It seems that just for fun all the guys were holding a stretched tarp and throwing Shelomith up and down in the air. Although Shelomith is having a good time, Nathan takes exception at how - ah - "revealing" - the practice is. He storms into the city square and challenges the men to one-on-one combat (at times Nathan really comes off as a jerk). The fellows all laugh and don't know the little squirt had been one of the best retiarii in Rome. Naturally Nathan defeats the challenger. But the other soldiers gang up and crucify him.

Yes, they crucify him. But in the book, Roman crucifixion was not by nailing the victim to the cross but by tying him to any convenient structure that lets him dangle. This method, Frank pointed out, produced a much more drawn out and painful death. So after Nathan is crucified, the soldiers leave, and Shelomith, who is really in love with Nathan, sets him free. This departure from the traditional depiction of crucifixion plays a key part in the novel's ending.

[Note: Two years after Judas, My Brother was published, archeologists reported the finding (in 1968) of a Jewish ossuary in Jerusalem. The skeleton had an iron spike driven through the ankle bone and the finding is considered the only archeological evidence of a crucifixion found to date. This doesn't mean that Frank is entirely wrong, of course. Eyewitness accounts of Roman crucifixions mention that the actual method and geometry of suspension varied considerably and was pretty much at the whim of those doing the crucifying. Nailing and impaling, though, were quite common.]

In crafting Judas, My Brother Frank seemed determined to leave no one out of the story. If they're in the Gospels or mentioned in traditional Jewish history, Nathan bumps into them. He turns down the overtures of a Zeolot recruiter (and hence becomes persona non grata to these militants), but he does join the Essenes, the Jewish sect that favored baptism. He even becomes friends with Pontius Pilatus (Pontius Pilate) and his wife Claudia who takes a shine to the handsome young man.

Eventually Nathan rehooks up with Yeshua, now a wandering teacher and who has acquired quite an entourage. Nathan is present (and has mixed feelings about) when Yeshua "cleanses the Temple". He was also in the group when Yeshua is betrayed by Yehuda ish-Kerioth. Yehuda had always thought Yeshua was going to lead a real revolt against the Romans and acts out of spite when he does not.

But Nathan is most perplexed at how Yeshua kept getting the reputation as a miracle worker when actually he seemed to be laying the groundwork for Monty Python's Life of Brian. At one point a mother is bewailing the death of her young daughter. So Yeshua and Nathan go into the house and Nathan picks up a silver spoon and holds it under the girls nose. He sees that the spoon becomes fogged with the moisture of her breath. The girl, then, was merely unconscious after having some medical event that produced a stupor. Yeshua angrily says to the wailing mother, "Stop that noise! The child's not dead. She's just asleep." He then kindly tells the girl, "Get up, my child." She then awakes, and the word gets out that Yeshua raised a young girl from the dead.

But when Yeshua is finally taken prisoner, Nathan hatched a plan. Since the Romans would crucify him by tying him to the cross, Nathan figured if they made it look like Yeshua had died after only a few hours, they could take him to a pre-prepared tomb (and there is at least one case of a person surviving a Roman crucifixion). Then after everyone leaves, they would sneak him off to the Essene's monastery in Qumran.

So Nathan told Shemolith to bring some wine drugged with a special concoction that would be nearly but not quite fatal. As she was still a favorite with the Roman soldiers, they'd let her give some to Yeshua on a sponge. They would think Yeshua was dead and then Nathan and Joseph of Arimathea would take him away.

But then when Yeshua is finally crucified, the Roman soldiers did not just tie him with ropes. They did indeed drive nails through his hands. And finally to speed things up, the soldiers decide to break Yeshua's legs.

At that point Shemolith again steps up and says she doesn't want Yeshua to be disfigured. To humor her - the Roman soldiers are very indulgent with her whims - they say OK. But they added that they still have to make sure Yeshua is dead or their boss would let them hear of it. So although Shemolith almost has a fit, they stab Yeshua in the side with the lance.

Naturally this threw a wrench into the plans. Thinking Yeshua is dead, Nathan and Joseph realize they will have to bury him for real. But once they get to the tomb and to Nathan's surprise, it turns out that Yeshua isn't dead after all. So after all the mourners were gone, he and Joseph put him on a cart and headed toward Qumran. However, on the road Yeshua finally succumbs, and they then bury him in the Essene cemetery.

But Miriam of Migdal-Nunaya - still the neighborhood crazy lady - comes to the tomb which she finds empty. As she sits there Nathan returns and when Mary sees him dressed in his white Essene robe, and confused by the physical similarity of the two men, she thinks he is the risen Yeshua. Naturally she runs and tells the others. After first trying to tell everyone what really happened, Nathan decides to heck with it. He decides to play along, and that story ends and another one begins.

Although Frank's quote was about what Albert Einstein referred to as childish superstition from a particular time and place, it can easily be applied to other philosophies, circumstances, and events. For instance, nowadays it can easily be applied to people believing fanciful and childish nonsense spewed out by followers and minions of ...

Well, never mind.

Frank continued to live in Spain for the rest of his life. He had the time, the inclination, and the money to indulge in diving, fishing, and car racing. Frank died in Madrid in 1991, age 75.

But there's still the question. How did one of the best selling novelists of the 20th century fall so quickly into obscurity?

Perhaps Frank was just a victim of his own success. He certainly contributed to the popularity of the costume and romance novels which really ballooned up after the 1980's. With so many such books appearing by new authors, there simply was no incentive to reissue Frank's books. And we should also remember that Frank's publisher, Dial Press, was sucked up by the merger mania of the latter 20th century. And Frank's contribution to his publisher's bottom line made them an attractive commodity.

On the other hand, famous authors - or famous anybodies - falling into obscurity isn't unusual. In fact, it's the norm. There are scores of celebrities that were household names during their lifetime but quickly faded into anonymity. If you doubt this, just revisit some old What's My Line television shows.

As far as some mega-famous writers that have dropped from the literary radar screen, there is John O'Hara, Alexander Woollcott, Kathleen Winsor, Lloyd Douglas, Robert Traver, James T. Farrell, Mary Elizabeth Braddon, Patrick Dennis, and many, many more. And today's bibliophiles will be shocked! shocked! when they see that the new lists of "Forgotten Authors" are starting to include once-thought immortals like Gertrude Stein, Scott Fitzgerald, Flannery O'Connor, Harper Lee, and Kurt Vonnegut.

So what brings on at least temporary literary immortality? Well, one thing that helps is to write your books to be suitable for middle school English classes. This Frank didn't do and he continued with what made him famous. His last novel was McKenzie's Hundred which was, yes, a costume novel about adventures of two young belles during the American Civil War.

Despite what serious critics may think, even Frank's costume novels have had significant - and positive - effects on their readers. In the 1950's a black teenager named Olly Neal was growing up in Marianna, Arkansas. Coming from a poor family and in an area where the only hope out of poverty seemed to be a life of crime, Olly noticed a book on the shelves of the school library. It was by Frank Yerby, and what grabbed Olly's attention - he readily admitted - was the rather lurid cover art.

Olly was intrigued. But he couldn't let his friends know he checked out a book from the library - tough kids didn't do that. So he snuck it under his jacket and took it home. After he read the book - which he liked - he was going to slip the book back. But when he got to the library there was another book by Frank on the shelf. So he returned the first book and swiped the new one. When he returned the second book, there was yet a new Frank Yerby novel waiting. It, too, was great. More Frank Yerby novels kept appearing on the shelf, and all in all, Olly read four of Frank's books that semester.

Suddenly Olly was hooked on reading. He began to pick out other books and soon moved up to serious writers like Albert Camus. He started reading newspapers and magazines. So rather than slide into a life of crime, Olly started studying. He went to college, law school, and in 1996, he became the Honorable Olly Neal of the Arkansas Court of Appeals. He retired in 2007 after a distinguished judicial career.

Oh, yes. Olly later learned that the school's librarian and English teacher, Mildred Grady, had seen him snitch the first book. Although she thought about griping at him and telling him he should check the book out, she knew that Olly didn't want to ruin his reputation as a tough guy. So she and another librarian drove 70 miles to Memphis and looked for more Frank Yerby books. They'd buy them and put them on the shelf, baiting the trap.

Frank's fans may be cheered to see that there seems to be a bit of a Frank Yerby revival underway. Because his books sold so well - in the tens of millions - there are plenty of used copies around and many are selling for not much more than shipping costs. And so we have an increasing number of "Remembering Frank Yerby" articles popping up.

In any case, you can't argue with success. With all the books Frank wrote and sold, it should be no surprise that among his other accomplishments he was the first black writer to become a millionaire.