the following is old news, but nevertheless both an entertaining and very interesting lesson in copyright issues ( shamelessly nicked from http://www.chillingeffects.org/resource.cgi?ResourceID=31 ).
Abstract: While preparing to film a movie entitled A Night in Casablanca, the Marx brothers received a letter from Warner Bros. threatening legal action if they did not change the filmâs title. Warner Bros. deemed the filmâs title too similar to their own Casablanca, released almost five years earlier in 1942, with Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman. In response Groucho Marx dispatched the following letter to the studioâs legal department.
From: Groucho Marx
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 donât understand your attitude. Even if you plan on releasing your picture, I am sure that the average movie fan could learn in time to distinguish between Ingrid Bergman and Harpo. I donât 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 âWarner Brothersâ? 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 inventorâs eye, and even before there had been other brothersâthe Smith Brothers; the Brothers Karamazov; Dan Brothers, an outfielder with Detroit; and âBrother, Can You Spare a Dime?â (This was originally âBrothers, Can You Spare a Dime?â but this was spreading a dime pretty thin, so they threw out one brother, gave all the money to the other one, and whittled it down to âBrother, Can You Spare a Dime?â)
Now Jack, how about you? Do you maintain that yours is an original name? Well itâs not. It was used long before you were born. Offhand, I can think of two JacksâJack of âJack and the Beanstalk,â 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 wasnât too well-known. The last I heard of him, he was selling neckties at Weber and Heilbroner.
Now about the Burbank studio. I believe this is what you brothers call your place. Old man Burbank is gone. Perhaps you remember him. He was a great man in a garden. His wife often said Luther had ten green thumbs. What a witty woman she must have been! Burbank was the wizard who crossed all those fruits and vegetables until he had the poor plants in such confused and jittery condition that they could never decide whether to enter the dining room on the meat platter or the dessert dish.
This is pure conjecture, of course, but who knowsâperhaps Burbankâs survivors arenât too happy with the fact that a plant that grinds out pictures on a quota settled in their town, appropriated Burbankâs name and uses it as a front for their films. It is even possible that the Burbank family is prouder of the potato produced by the old man than they are of the fact that your studio emerged âCasablancaâ or even âGold Diggers of 1931.â
This all seems to add up to a pretty bitter tirade, but I assure you itâs 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 wouldnât 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 wellâhot 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 wonât get away with it! Weâll 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 weâll remain friends till the last reel of âA Night in Casablancaâ goes tumbling over the spool.
Sincerely,
Groucho Marx
Unamused, Warner Bros. requested that the Marx Brothers at least outline the premise of their film. Groucho responded with an utterly ridiculous storyline, and, sure enough, received another stern letter requesting clarification. He obliged and went on to describe a plot even more preposterous than the first, claiming that he, Groucho, would be playing âBordello, the sweetheart of Humphrey Bogart.â No doubt exasperated, Warner Bros. did not respond. A Night in Casablanca was released in 1946.
Abstract: While preparing to film a movie entitled A Night in Casablanca, the Marx brothers received a letter from Warner Bros. threatening legal action if they did not change the filmâs title. Warner Bros. deemed the filmâs title too similar to their own Casablanca, released almost five years earlier in 1942, with Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman. In response Groucho Marx dispatched the following letter to the studioâs legal department.
From: Groucho Marx
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 donât understand your attitude. Even if you plan on releasing your picture, I am sure that the average movie fan could learn in time to distinguish between Ingrid Bergman and Harpo. I donât 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 âWarner Brothersâ? 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 inventorâs eye, and even before there had been other brothersâthe Smith Brothers; the Brothers Karamazov; Dan Brothers, an outfielder with Detroit; and âBrother, Can You Spare a Dime?â (This was originally âBrothers, Can You Spare a Dime?â but this was spreading a dime pretty thin, so they threw out one brother, gave all the money to the other one, and whittled it down to âBrother, Can You Spare a Dime?â)
Now Jack, how about you? Do you maintain that yours is an original name? Well itâs not. It was used long before you were born. Offhand, I can think of two JacksâJack of âJack and the Beanstalk,â 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 wasnât too well-known. The last I heard of him, he was selling neckties at Weber and Heilbroner.
Now about the Burbank studio. I believe this is what you brothers call your place. Old man Burbank is gone. Perhaps you remember him. He was a great man in a garden. His wife often said Luther had ten green thumbs. What a witty woman she must have been! Burbank was the wizard who crossed all those fruits and vegetables until he had the poor plants in such confused and jittery condition that they could never decide whether to enter the dining room on the meat platter or the dessert dish.
This is pure conjecture, of course, but who knowsâperhaps Burbankâs survivors arenât too happy with the fact that a plant that grinds out pictures on a quota settled in their town, appropriated Burbankâs name and uses it as a front for their films. It is even possible that the Burbank family is prouder of the potato produced by the old man than they are of the fact that your studio emerged âCasablancaâ or even âGold Diggers of 1931.â
This all seems to add up to a pretty bitter tirade, but I assure you itâs 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 wouldnât 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 wellâhot 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 wonât get away with it! Weâll 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 weâll remain friends till the last reel of âA Night in Casablancaâ goes tumbling over the spool.
Sincerely,
Groucho Marx
Unamused, Warner Bros. requested that the Marx Brothers at least outline the premise of their film. Groucho responded with an utterly ridiculous storyline, and, sure enough, received another stern letter requesting clarification. He obliged and went on to describe a plot even more preposterous than the first, claiming that he, Groucho, would be playing âBordello, the sweetheart of Humphrey Bogart.â No doubt exasperated, Warner Bros. did not respond. A Night in Casablanca was released in 1946.
