Poetry, the Law, and Me

There’s an urban legend that poetry is no longer relevant—that only scarf wearing, tweed sporting, rheumatic leftist white humanities profs of a certain age bother with the stuff (see, for example, Patton Oswalt’s plea to be named Poet Laureate, here).  While poetry collections may not top the bestsellers lists these days, you can’t go to a movie, read a book, or watch an advertisement without running into some verse. 

Or, for that matter, brush up on your copyright law.  I had to do a bit of just that after my video post (below) was identified by YouTube as containing copyrighted content.  Through the magic of technology, YouTube had managed to sniff out my less-than-thirty-second clip of Sugarland’s “Something More” that appeared at the end of the video.  I naively assumed that this little snippet fell within “fair use” in the United States (where YouTube runs its servers, and therefore where its content is subject to law).

Silly me.  Any use of recorded music on YouTube, even by an amateur user, it turns out, is subject to copyright law.  What would have made an appropriate musical selection?  Apparently anything prior to 1923, the last year in which creative content entered the public domain.  Be warned, next time you might have to watch me “cut a rug” to “Toot Toot Tootsie” or “I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate” (both hits that year).

Copyright is continually being extended by the American Congress.  It was most recently in 1999 with the Sonny Bono Copyright Copyright Term Extension Act.  That law could have been struck down in the 2003 Supreme Court case, Eldred v. Aschcroft.  It was a case that turned on the publication of, you guessed it, poetry.

The plaintiff, Eric Eldred, had wanted to publish Robert Frost’s collection New Hampshire online in his continuing effort to promote literacy by making literary classics available to the masses for no cost (other that your internet connection).  New Hampshire’s copyright was to expire, but the Bono Act ensured that the long-dead Frost would receive royalties for another twenty years (he died in 1963).  Eldred defied the extension and published anyway.  Court cases ensued.  Eldred lost them all.

I’m not sure how much money I owe Frost for publishing some of his poems on this blog.  You’d think he just might like the publicity.  Wouldn’t you want your work to still be published without censure when you’re dead?  How are we supposed to make something new when we’re cut off from the past?

Lawrence Lessig, Harvard professor and Eldred’s lawyer, asks that question in his book from 2008, Remix: Making Art And Commerce Thrive In the Hybrid Economy (available in paperback, via Amazon, here).  Lessig worries about the erosion of the public domain.  He writes that in 1923 the average copyright was held for 28 years.  Today, the average copyright is forever—seriously, all current copyrights are enforced and can theoretically be extended ad infinitum just as the Bono Act extended them in 1999.

Imagine, Lessig asks, if we still had a 28 year copyright?  I wouldn’t have to get by with Al Jolson numbers.  I could rock out to “What Kind of Fool,” or “Morning Train.”  And really, wouldn’t that be amazing?  Or course, Barry Gibb and Sheena Easton would renew their copyrights and those particular songs wouldn’t be in the public domain.  But think of all the great music that would be: the whole Lennon catalogue, for example.

But what’s really important (my rocking out certainly isn’t) is creating copyright law that encourages creativity, not limiting it in the name of profits.  That’s why copyright was created in the first place.  The full title of the first copyright law, the 1709 Statute of Anne (pictured above), is “An Act for the Encouragement of learning, by vesting the Copies of Printed Books in the Authors or purchasers of such Copies, during the Times therein mentioned.”  Copyright was for a renewable term of 21 years.

My story has a happy ending.  The copyright holder of my song decided not to wipe my audio track (I had that happen when I ran afoul of the Golden Girls theme some months ago), but rather to post an ad encouraging listeners to buy the song.  What a brilliant solution.  It doesn’t penalize amateur users, and encourages the sale of the product and the creative interpretation of that product.

So thank you, Universal Music Group, for your enlightened stance on copyright.  I got to promote poetry, and you got to promote your band.  Now, if only every company decided to “Act for the encouragement of learning” in addition to acting in the name of profits.  This little episode has me heartened that the two are not mutually exclusive.