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In 1976, Congress set fire to the country's libraries; in 1998, they did it again. Today, in 2024, the flames have died down, and out of the ashes a new public domain is growing. Happy Public Domain Day 2025 to all who celebrate!
For most of US history, copyright was something you had to ask for. To copyright a work, you'd send a copy to the Library of Congress and they'd issue you a copyright. Not only did that let you display a copyright mark on your work – so people would know they weren't allowed to copy it without your permission – but if anyone wanted to figure out who to ask in order to get permission to copy or adapt a work, they could just go look up the paperwork at the LoC.
In 1976, Congress amended the Copyright Act to eliminate the "formality" of copyright registration. Now, all creative works of human authorship were copyrighted "at the moment of fixation" – the instant you drew, typed, wrote, filmed, or recorded them. From a toddler's nursery-school finger-painting to a graffiti mural on a subway car, every creative act suddenly became an article of property.
But whose property? That was on you to figure out, before you could copy, publish, perform, or preserve the work, because without registration, permissions had to start with a scavenger hunt for the person who could grant it. Congress simultaneously enacted a massive expansion of property rights, while abolishing the title registry that spelled out who owned what. As though this wasn't enough, Congress reached back in time and plopped an extra 20 years' onto the copyrights of existing works, even ones whose authors were unknown and unlocatable.
For the next 20 years, creative workers, archivists, educators and fans struggled in the face of this regime of unknowable property rights. After decades of well-documented problems, Congress acted again: they made it worse.
In 1998, Congress passed the Sonny Bono Copyright Act, AKA the Mickey Mouse Preservation Act, AKA the Copyright Term Extension Act. The 1998 Act tacked another 20 years onto copyright terms, but not just for works that were still in copyright. At the insistence of Disney, Congress actually yanked works out of the public domain – works that had been anthologized, adapted and re-issued – and put them back into copyright for two more decades. Copyright stretched to the century-plus "life plus 70 years" term. Nothing entered the public domain for the next 20 years.
So many of my comrades in the fight for the public domain were certain that this would happen again in 2018. In 2010, e-book inventor and Project Gutenberg founder Michael S Hart and I got into a friendly email argument because he was positive that in 2018, Congress would set fire to the public domain again. When I insisted that there was no way this could happen given the public bitterness over the 1998 Act, he told me I was being naive, but said he hoped that I was right.
Michael didn't live to see it, but in 2019, the public domain opened again. It was an incredible day:
No one has done a better job of chronicling the fortunes of our fragile, beautiful, bounteous public domain than Jennifer Jenkins and James Boyle of Duke University's Center for the Study of the Public Domain. Every year from 2010-2019, Boyle and Jenkins chronicled the works that weren't entering the public domain because of the 1998 Act, making sure we knew what had been stolen from our cultural commons. In so many cases, these works disappeared before their copyrights expired, for example, the majority of silent films are lost forever.
Then, in 2019, Jenkins and Boyle got to start cataloging the works that were entering the public domain, most of them from 1923 (copyright is complicated, so not everything that entered the public domain in 2019 was from that year):
So what's entering the public domain this year? Well, for one thing, there's more of the stuff from last year, which makes sense: if Hemingway's first books entered the PD last year, then this year, we'll the books he wrote next (and this will continue every year until we catch up with Hemingway's tragic death).
There are some big hits from our returning champions, like Woolf's To the Lighthouse and A Farewell to Arms from Hemingway. Jenkins and Boyle call particular attention to one book: Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury, its title taken from a public domain work by Shakespeare. As they write, Faulkner spoke eloquently about the nature of posterity and culture:
[Humanity] is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance…The poet’s voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.
The main attraction on last year's Public Domain Day was the entry of Steamboat Willie – the first Mickey Mouse cartoon – into the public domain. This year, we're getting a dozen new Mickey cartoons, including the first Mickey talkie:
Those 12 shorts represent a kind of creative explosion for the Disney Studios. Those early Mickey cartoons were, each and every one, a hybrid of new copyrighted works and the public domain. The backbone of each Mickey short was a beloved, public domain song, with Mickey's motion synched to the beat (animators came to call this "mickey mousing"). In 1929, there was a huge crop of public domain music that anyone could use this way:
Blue Danube, Pop Goes the Weasel, Yankee Doodle, Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush, Ach Du Lieber Augustin, Listen to the Mocking Bird, A-Hunting We Will Go, Dixie, The Girl I Left Behind Me, a tune known as the snake charmer song, Coming Thru the Rye, Mary Had a Little Lamb, Auld Lang Syne, Aloha ‘Oe, Turkey in the Straw, My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean, Habanera and Toreador Song from Carmen, Lizst’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2, and Goodnight, Ladies.
These were recent compositions, songs that were written and popularized in the lifetimes of the parents and grandparents who took their kids to the movies to see Mickey shorts like "The Barn Dance," "The Opry House" and "The Jazz Fool." The ability to plunder this music at will was key to the success of Mickey Mouse and Disney. Think of all the Mickeys and Disneys we've lost by locking up the public domain for the past half-century!
This year, we're getting some outstanding new old music for our public domain. The complexities of copyright terms mean that compositions from 1929 are entering the public domain, but we're only getting recordings from 1924. 1924's outstanding recordings include:
George Gershwin performing Rhapsody in Blue, Jelly Roll Morton playing Shreveport Stomp, and an early recording from contralto and civil rights icon Marian Anderson, who is famous for her 1939 performance to an integrated audience of over 75,000 people at the Lincoln Memorial. Anderson’s 1924 recording is of the spiritual Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen.
While the compositions include Singin' in the Rain, Ain't Misbehavin', An American in Paris, Bolero, (What Did I Do to Be So) Black and Blue, Tiptoe Through the Tulips, Happy Days Are Here Again, What Is This Thing Called, Love?, Am I Blue? and many, many more.
On the art front, we're getting Salvador Dali's earliest surrealist masterpieces, like Illumined Pleasures, The Accommodations of Desire, and The Great Masturbator. Dali's contemporaries are not so lucky: after a century, the early history of the works of Magritte are so muddy that it's impossible to say whether they are in or out of copyright.
But there's plenty of art with clearer provenance that we can welcome into the public domain this year, most notably, Popeye and Tintin. As the first Popeye and Tintin comics go PD, so too do those characters.
The idea that a fictional character can have a copyright separate from the stories they appear in is relatively new, and it's weird and very stupid. Courts have found that the Batmobile is a copyrightable character (Batman won't enter the public domain until 2035).
Copyright for characters is such a muddy, gross, weird idea. The clearest example of how stupid this gets comes from Sherlock Holmes, whose canon spans many years. The Doyle estate – a rent-seeking copyright troll – claimed that Holmes wouldn't enter the public domain until every Holmes story was in the public domain (that's this year, incidentally!).
This didn't fly, so their next gambit was to claim copyright over those aspects of Holmes's character that were developed later in the stories. For example, they claimed that Holmes didn't show compassion until the later stories, and, on that basis, sued the creators of the Enola Holmes TV show for depicting a gender-swapped Sherlock who wasn't a total dick:
As the Enola lawyers pointed out in their briefs, this was tantamount to a copyright over emotions: "Copyright law does not allow the ownership of generic concepts like warmth, kindness, empathy, or respect, even as expressed by a public domain character – which, of course, belongs to the public, not plaintiff."
When Mickey entered the public domain last year, Jenkins did an excellent deep dive into which aspects of Mickey's character and design emerged when:
https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/mickey/
Jenkins uses this year's entry of Tintin and Popeye into the public domain to further explore the subject of proprietary characters.
Even though copyright extends to characters, it only covers the "copyrightable" parts of those characters. As the Enola lawyers wrote, the generic character traits (their age, emotional vibe, etc) are not protected. Neither is anything "trivial" or "minuscule" – for example, if a cartoonist makes a minor alteration to the way a character's pupils or eyes are drawn, that's a minor detail, not a copyrightable element.
The biggest impediment to using public domain characters isn't copyright, it's trademark. Trademark is very different from copyright: foundationally, trademark is the right to protect your customers from being deceived by your competitors. Coke can use trademark to stop Pepsi from selling its sugary drinks in Coke cans – not because it owns the word "Coke" or the Coke logo, but because it has been deputized to protect Coke drinkers from being tricked into buying not-Coke, thinking that they're getting the true Black Waters of American Imperialism.
Companies claim trademarks over cartoon characters all the time, and license those trademarks on food, clothing, toys, and more (remember Popeye candy cigarettes?).
Indeed, Hearst Holdings claims a trademark over Popeye in many traditional categories, like cartoons, amusement parks, ads and clothes. They're also in the midst of applying for a Popeye NFT trademark (lol).
Does that mean you can't use Popeye in any of those ways? Nope! All you need to do is prominently mention that your use of Popeye is unofficial, not associated with Hearst, and dispel any chance of confusion. A unanimous Supreme Court decision (in Dastar) affirm your right to do so. You can also use Popeye in the title of your unauthorized Popeye comic, thanks to a case called Rogers v Grimaldi.
This all applies to Tintin, too – a big deal, given that Tintin is managed by a notorious copyright bully who delights in cruelly terrorizing fan artists. Tintin is joined in the public domain by Buck Rogers, another old-timey character whose owners are scumbag rent-seekers.
Congress buried the public domain alive in 1976, and dumped a load of gravel over its grave in 1998, but miraculously, we've managed to exhume the PD, and it has been revived and is showing signs of rude health.
2024 saw the blockbuster film adaptation of Wicked, based on the public domain Oz books. It also saw the publication of James, a celebrated retelling of Twain's Huck Finn from the perspective of Huck's enslaved sidekick.
This is completely normal. It's how art was made since time immemorial. The 40 year experiment in life without a public domain is at an end, and not a minute too soon.
You can piece together a complete-as-possible list of 2025's public domain (including the Marx Brothers' Cocoanuts, Disney's Skeleton Dance, and Del Ruth's Gold Diggers of Broadway) here:
How will Bruce (and sons) react to finding Damian in this club?
“Yes, Father, Dick and I will get there tomorrow morning.” Damian huffs over the phone, for what seems like the 4th time that week. Bruce lets a small smile hit his face. “I know, I know. Damian, this is the first birthday you’ll have where everyone’s here, and where Jason promised not to create Chaos for fun.”
Damian let out what only those closest to him knew as a laugh. “I doubt that will happen.” He tells his father. “Alright, let me ask Dick something before you go,” Bruce says. He hears a pause on the line, then Damian clears his throat, “He’s not home. He had to run out to get something, and forgot his phone on the counter. I’ve got to go father.” He said and hung up.
Damian hanging up when he was finished with the call was nothing new. Dick forgetting his phone however, that was unheard of. Always having it nearby in case of an emergency, but he had just worked three days straight at the police department, on top of patrolling as Nightwing. Letting the topic go, Bruce walked upstairs to find Alfred had been setting up for everyone to come home, and had made his way to Jason’s room last, at 9:56 pm.
Bruce leaned on the doorway as Alfred made Jason’s bed. “You know he’s just going to undo it when he gets here.” Not a question, something that Jason had done since he first arrived as a kid. He had never been able to sleep still, and often kicked off all the sheets and blankets, and on several occasions, found himself wrapped up in the fitted sheet like a cocoon.
“I’ve been doing it since he was 13 and I believe I shall keep doing it until I die,” Alfred says back, not turning away from the sheets. “That won’t be till after I’m dead, Alfred, we’ve talked about this-” a call cut off Bruce. He looked, and eyebrows furrowed, after seeing Dick’s name flashing across his screen.
“Dick? When did you get home?” He asked his eldest. Dick chuckled, “Get home? I’ve been home all day. I wanted to ask if Damian’s gift arrived, cause if not, I can-” Bruce stood straight, “You’ve been home all day? Where’s Damian?” He asked, instantly running through all scenarios in his head. “He’s in his room. Said he was gonna pack for tomorrow, Damian, Bruce is…shit.” Bruce could hear a door opening and sighed at Dick’s realization. “I’ll be there in 30.”
The drive over was spent trying to call Damian again, but there was no answer. Even tracking him didn’t seem to work because the cell signal kept bouncing all over the place; the only signal I could detect was a small corner of Blüdhaven. “Damn it, Damian,” Bruce mumbled as he pulled into the garage of Dick’s apartment. Walking up to the door, he could hear Dick stressing from his spot. “Damian, if you’re not dead by the time we find you, I’m gonna do it myself!”
Bruce knocked and was met with a disheveled Dick when the door opened. “Voicemail?” He asked, stepping inside. “Yep. Bruce, I didn’t know-” Bruce held his hand up, “It’s fine. Damian would have found a way to get out anyway.” They walked into his room, and Bruce looked around. “I already checked, phone, wallet gone.” Bruce showed Dick the tracker he had, which kept changing location quickly. “I don’t know this part of Blüdhaven.” He muttered, then fell onto the couch. Just as he was about to try calling again, Dick sat up and looked at Bruce. “But I may know someone who does…”
~~~~
“What’s up, bitches?” Walking through the door were Jason Todd, holding a pack of beers, and Tim Drake, holding another. “Dick, this isn’t a party. This is just Bruce, and I’m pretty sure he forgot what a party is.” Jason huffed, amusement lacing his tone. Bruce kept his eyes on Jason, knowing the only way to get back at him, “I know what a party is, Jason. Shall we remember who didn’t get wasted on your 21st birthday?”
Jason grabbed a beer and popped the cap off, rolling his eyes, “We’re not talking about that. Why are we here? Where’s the brat?” He mumbled. Tim nodded and fell to the couch, “Yeah, there aren’t insults being thrown at me.”
Bruce and Dick looked at each other, and Tim let out a laugh, “You don’t know where he is?” Jason paused mid-sip, “Holy shit, the little demon snuck out? Respect.” Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, Dick said you might know the area he’s in.” He tossed the phone to Jason.
The second eldest son nodded, “Yeah, I know this place. There’s no way Damian’s here.” Tim stood up and looked at the phone, “He went to Baratel?” Jason scoffed, “Like you know what Baratel is?”
“Who do you think set up the signal blockers?” Bruce stepped forward, “You did that?” He asked Tim. “Yeah. What? They paid good money; besides, it’s not like it’s anything shady going down there.” Jason scoffs, Bruce’s worries shooting higher. “B, relax. It’s just a club. Damn, Wayne’s really do know the best spots.” Jason mumbles, and Bruce takes the drink from his hand. “We’re going.” He starts towards the door, “Now.”
~~~~
Damian was leaning against the bar countertop, hand over a drink, while he took a sip of his own. He looked around, observing everyone, well, a specific person in particular: his girlfriend, Raven. Jon had suggested that the team come to Baratel, a club he was finally able to get into, as a ‘celebration’ for Damian’s birthday, even though he was only turning 18. When they got to the door, the bouncer seemed to hesitate before seeing who Damian was. “Mr. Wayne, come on in.”
Raven smiled at Damian’s groan, “Wow, the name really does have some perks.” She whispered, then kissed his cheek. He smiled down at her, taking in her outfit. Ever since getting her father out of her head and into a special gem containment made by John Constantine and Zatanna, she had gained more color, and her amethyst eyes had popped.
Especially against the dark purple dress she had slipped on, as well as some strappy heels, that even though they were a bigger height, still put her right at Damian’s jawline. “You look beautiful, habibti.” He whispers back, a smile growing on her face, “Happy birthday, dami.”
Now he was watching her walk back from the restroom where she was helping Donna clean up after someone spilled their drink over her, luckily only hitting her arms, but still sticking to the girl. When they approached, they were laughing, and Raven took her drink from Damian, who was watching it closely.
“Thank you.” She kissed his cheek. Jon Kent, who had over the years become Damian’s best friend, came up behind him, shaking his shoulders, in a way that only Jon could get away with…barely.
“My good bartending man, round of shots for the birthday boy.” He calls out over the loud music. The gentleman behind the bar nods with a smile and starts setting up a line of glasses down the bar top.
Damian groaned and set down his whiskey. “Kent, this is-” He was cut off quickly, “This is your birthday celebration. Look, my friend, the bouncer let you in because you are a freaking Wayne. Now, people are starting to notice that the son of billionaire bachelor party boy Bruce Wayne has been standing in the corner of the bar the whole night.” Seeing that Damian’s mind had not been changed, he smirked, “Think of it as an undercover mission. Unless the task’s too much of a challenge…”
Damian glared at the super-son and turned, taking his shot and downing it, calling for another round. Donna and Raven giggled and took theirs as well, followed by Jon. “That is what I’m talking about! Now, if you don’t mind me, I’m taking this beautiful girl to the dance floor.” He gently takes Donna’s arm, leading her to the group of people.
Damian took the remaining shot from his and Jon’s, and Rachel rested her hand on his upper back, “Dami, you can slow down. You know it was a dumb bet.” She said, nevertheless, finishing her second drink as well. Damian shook his head and turned, leaning his head down next to her ear, “He’s right. I’m a Wayne, and for tonight I’m gonna act like it.” She smiled up at him and took his hand as he led her to the dance floor.
He spun her slowly, her back ending up against his chest as his arms wrapped around her waist, a soft gasp leaving her mouth. Damian smirked and leaned down, kissing her shoulder. They continued dancing, and he spun her around, pulling her flush against him, not noticing the extra attention that they were receiving from some reporters on the balcony.
“This is a new side of you,” Raven said to her boyfriend, barely understandable under the loud music. He nodded and slipped his hand up to cup her jaw, “Trying it out, I suppose, beloved. Think you can keep up?” He finished with a signature smirk. She returned the look and pushed up on her toes to kiss him.
They continued the kiss till they stumbled off the floor, the alcohol ordered earlier now building their courage and dulling their rational thinking. They were now sitting in a booth at the back corner of the club, lips sealed.
They continued to blur out the scene around them until they felt a presence. Damian groaned and turned to tell off the person who had slid into the other side of the booth, filling all the way around, completing the circle, but instead saw four somebodies. “Oh اللعنة.”
His father and three brothers, each with a different expression. Dick looked like he wanted to kill Damian, but was also slightly proud of it. Maybe it was that he was getting out of his usual habits of being a shut-off assassin, only opening up to certain people.
Jason looked amused, somehow already holding a drink and a napkin with the phone number of one of the waitresses. He had a dumb smirk on his face and was giving Damian a thumbs-up. Tim looked horrified and in disbelief that the younger demon-like brother figure had been making out with a girl in a club at the edge of Blüdhaven.
His father, well, he had the worst look of all. Blank. There was no expression on his face, no mask of anger, disappointment, or horror. “Yeah, oh shit.”
Watercolour study by Maurice Sendak for a set piece for a production of Ravel’s opera, “L’Heure Espagnole,” that opened on 22 July 1987 at the Glyndebourne Festival Opera in England.
