CORPORADOS

RECOVERED HISTORY: GROUCHO MARX'S APPROACH TO COPYRIGHT LAW

[Written by Groucho Marx after Warner Brothers threatened to sue if the
Marx brothers went ahead with a moving called "A Night in Casabanca"

Dear Warner Brothers,

Apparently there is more than one way of conquering a city and holding
it as your own. For example, up to the time that we contemplated making
this picture, I had no idea that the city of Casablanca belonged
exclusively to Warner Brothers. However, it was only a few days after
our announcement appeared that we received your long, ominous legal
document warning us not to use the name Casablanca.

It seems that in 1471, Ferdinand Balboa Warner, your
great-great-grandfather, while looking for a shortcut to the city of
Burbank, had stumbled on the shores of Africa and, raising his
alpenstock (which he later turned in for a hundred shares of common),
named it Casablanca.

I just don't understand your attitude. Even if you plan or releasing
your picture, I am sure that the average movie fan could learn in time
to distinguish between Ingrid Bergman and Harpo. I don't know whether I
could, but I certainly would like to try.

You claim that you own Casablanca and that no one else can use that name
without permission. What about "Warner Brothers"? Do you own that too?
You probably have the right to use the name Warner, but what about the
name Brothers? Professionally, we were brothers long before you were. We
were touring the sticks as the Marx Brothers when Vitaphone was still a
gleam in the inventor's eye, and even before there had been other
brothers - the Smith Brothers; the Brothers Karamazov; Dan Brothers, an
outfielder with Detroit; and "Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?" . . .

Now Jack, how about you? Do you maintain that yours is an original name?
Well it's not. It was used long before you were born. Offhand, I can
think of two Jacks - Jack of "Jack and the Beanstalk," and Jack the
Ripper, who cut quite a figure in his day.

As for you, Harry, you probably sign your checks sure in the belief that
you are the first Harry of all time and that all other Harrys are
impostors. I can think of two Harrys that preceded you. There was
Lighthouse Harry of Revolutionary fame and a Harry Appelbaum who lived
on the corner of 93rd Street and Lexington Avenue. Unfortunately,
Appelbaum wasn't too well-known. The last I heard of him, he was selling
neckties at Weber and Heilbroner. . .

This all seems to add up to a pretty bitter tirade, but I assure you
it's not meant to. I love Warners. Some of my best friends are Warner
Brothers. It is even possible that I am doing you an injustice and that
you, yourselves, know nothing about this dog-in-the-Wanger attitude. It
wouldn't surprise me at all to discover that the heads of your legal
department are unaware of this absurd dispute, for I am acquainted with
many of them and they are fine fellows with curly black hair,
double-breasted suits and a love of their fellow man that out-Saroyans
Saroyan.

I have a hunch that his attempt to prevent us from using the title is
the brainchild of some ferret-faced shyster, serving a brief
apprenticeship in your legal department. I know the type well-hot out of
law school, hungry for success, and too ambitious to follow the natural
laws of promotion. This bar sinister probably needled your attorneys,
most of whom are fine fellows with curly black hair, double-breasted
suits, etc., into attempting to enjoin us. Well, he won't get away with
it! We'll fight him to the highest court! No pasty-faced legal
adventurer is going to cause bad blood between the Warners and the
Marxes. We are all brothers under the skin, and we'll remain friends
till the last reel of "A Night in Casablanca" goes tumbling over the
spool.

Sincerely,

Groucho Marx

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