It didn’t come as a surprise to those who knew the young, ambitious man that Motown Records founder Berry Gordy of Detroit wanted his new company to run with the order and efficiency of the automobile line at the nearby Ford Motors plant. After all, he had once himself worked on that very line while mapping out his musical and business aspirations.
And the label succeeded wildly in the ‘60s with artists like The Supremes, Martha & the Vandellas, Temptations, Four Tops, Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, Marvin Gaye, and Stevie Wonder. They brought “The Sound of Young America” to the airwaves, record stores, and TV screens across America.
Yet the creatives who actually wrote and played on those well-known tunes were often shrouded in near secrecy. Only decades later are names like Holland-Dozier-Holland, Norman Whitfield, and the backing band collective known as the Funk Brothers better known, thanks to various books and documentaries.
But buried even deeper are the contributions of many of the Black female creatives at the label, who in the ‘60s and ‘70s battled not only racism, but sexism—and often within the Motown “family” itself.
Producer and prolific songwriter Sylvia Moy certainly fits this bill. Her writes and co-writes include hits like “I Was Made to Love Her,” “Uptight (Everything’s Alright),” and “My Cherie Amour” all for Stevie Wonder; “Honey Chile” for Martha Reeves and the Vandellas; “This Old Heart of Mine (Is Weak for You)” for the Isley Brothers, “It Takes Two” for Marvin Gaye and Kim Weston, and many others.
Now, Moy’s story comes to the surface in It’s No Wonder: The Life and Times of Motown’s Legendary Songwriter Sylvia Moy by Margena A. Christian (304 pp., $30, Da Capo).
Foy grew up in a large family, but even as a young child had a love for music. She originally turned to songwriting out of necessity—as an aspiring vocalist, she needed material to potentially record. But a trip to New York and various Brill Building music businesses only resulted in rejection for Foy as both a performer and writer.
Chastened but undeterred, she set her sights on the company in her hometown and with which she had some connections via various friends and schoolmates: Motown. Moy landed there in 1964 after Marvin Gaye and Motown head of A&R Mickey Stevenson caught her act at a nightclub. Though, to her disappointment, she was hired strictly as a writer and not performer.
Further disappointment came when Moy discovered that after songs she had written completely by herself appear on disc, they were often saddled with an unexpected “co-writer” (sometimes the shady Stevenson). All part of the business game involving publishing and royalty monies. Though as a label, Motown was hardly alone in this practice.
Finally, Stevie Wonder came along. While the boy genius had one hit with the live “Fingertips Pt. 2,” follow ups proved frustrating. At the same time, Moy was trying to get her foot into a producer role—but constantly denied with gender being the main culprit. So, when she was given the assignment to eke a hit out of the maturing and increasingly frustrated no longer “Little” Stevie Wonder, both of them—and Motown—benefitted greatly.
The partnership continued, even as Moy continued to either be pushed out of proper credit by the male hierarchy for some songwriting, or at least not fully recognized. Christian writes she also often found her name “left off” production credits on sessions she was present and worked at.
Christian does her duty in at least presenting multiple viewpoints as to the always murky who-contributed-what-and-how-much formula that has always been a hallmark of dispute in the music industry. Especially when said song becomes a hit. The book also makes a slight case that Moy should have also had some sort of credit on the massive hits “Signed, Sealed, Delivered (I’m Yours)” for Stevie Wonder and “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg” for the Temptations.
After five years, Moy decided not to renew her contract with Motown, or join the company move to Los Angeles from Detroit. She began working with underprivileged youth in the arts—often dipping into her pocket for funding. She also built a studio and started her own production company.
Finally, in the late ‘80s, she picked up her own singing career and was later inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame. She died in from pneumonia in 2017 at the age of 78.
Early in the text Christian does a fine job detailing the creation, operation, and structure of the Motown company, as well as place them within music context of other Black performers and companies. Her summary of Stevie Wonder’s career (and life) challenges also pops.
As a whole, Christian—a former editor and/or writer for both Jet and Ebony magazines, who also has a background in academia—is enamored of her subject. Perhaps a bit too enamored, as the books sometimes veers into hagiography. Not shocking, as Christian had the full participation and approval of Moy’s family and estate.
It’s definitely Sylvia Moy who gets her flowers in It’s No Wonder. As her struggles in Motown—even after she more than proved her capabilities—never seemed to lessen. Yet, by book’s end she is still something of a mystery. The readers know what she did, knows how she felt about it (at least on the surface). But as she was very shy in real life and somewhat buttoned down, we don’t necessarily get to know her. Sounds like a good subject for a song.
This article appears in Private: Jan 1 – Dec 31, 2026.