Lifestyle
'Steamboat Willie' is now in the public domain. What does that mean for Mickey Mouse?
The original 1928 script for Disney’s Steamboat Willie, the first cartoon to star Mickey Mouse.
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Robyn Beck/AFP via Getty Images
The original 1928 script for Disney’s Steamboat Willie, the first cartoon to star Mickey Mouse.
Robyn Beck/AFP via Getty Images
An early Walt Disney movie featuring the first appearance of Mickey Mouse is among the copyrighted works from 1928 moving into the public domain on Jan. 1, 2024.
But the cartoon creature who stars in the animated short Steamboat Willie isn’t a lot like the Mickey we know today. He’s more rascally and rough. His roots in the blackface minstrel shows of the time are more apparent.
And he’s not exactly cuddly. For much of the movie, Mickey amuses himself by forcing barnyard animals into being unwilling musical instruments.
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“You know, he’s evolved so much and become more 3D and colorful,” observes Ryan Harmon, a former Disney Imagineer, of the character today. He remembers anxious talk, when he worked at the company in the 1990s, about the beloved icon eventually entering the public domain.
But that’s not happening, says Kembrew McLeod, a communications professor and intellectual property scholar at the University of Iowa.
“What is going into the public domain is this particular appearance in this particular film,” he says.
That means people can creatively reuse only the Mickey Mouse from Steamboat Willie. Not the Mickey Mouse in the 1940 movie Fantasia. Nor the one on Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, a kids’ show that aired on the Disney Channel for a decade starting in 2006.
New versions of Mickey Mouse remain under copyright. Copyright applies to creative characters, movies, books, plays, songs and more. And as it happens, Mickey Mouse is also trademarked.
“Trademark law is entirely about protecting brands, logos and names — like Mickey Mouse as a logo, or the name Mickey Mouse,” McLeod says.
“And of course, trademark law has no end,” adds Harvard Law School professor Ruth Okediji. Disney and other corporations, she says, use trademarks to extend control over intellectual property.” As long as the mark remains distinctive in the supply of goods and services, the owner of the trademark gets to protect that trademark.”
Jennifer Jenkins, director of the Duke Center for the Study of the Public Domain, made this conveniently mouse-shaped explanation of what you can and can’t do with the Steamboat Willie version of Mickey Mouse as of Jan. 1, 2024. Find out more here.
Jennifer Jenkins and Sean Dudley
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Jennifer Jenkins and Sean Dudley
Jennifer Jenkins, director of the Duke Center for the Study of the Public Domain, made this conveniently mouse-shaped explanation of what you can and can’t do with the Steamboat Willie version of Mickey Mouse as of Jan. 1, 2024. Find out more here.
Jennifer Jenkins and Sean Dudley
“It’s something copyright scholars like myself have been concerned about,” she continues. “This effective undermining of the public domain by allowing trademark law to effectively extend the life of a copyrighted work. And it’s my hope that either Congress or the courts will restore the full balance between the protection of creativity and the protection of the public domain, which is also the protection of creativity.”
Now, people should still be able to do things like incorporate clips of Steamboat Willie in an art project, or maybe sell a T-shirt reproducing a frame from the movie. But Okediji cautions if those things infringe on the trademark, or threaten to dilute the trademark because of the way it’s used, then Disney can use the law to assert its ownership.
This could keep people from making, for example, a Mickey Mouse slasher movie. Which someone actually did when Winnie the Pooh went into the public domain last year.
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“You also can’t just call your restaurant Mickey Mouse on January 1st,” Okediji chuckles. “You can’t say, ‘I’m the Mickey Mouse restaurant.’ That would be a clear trademark violation.”
The Walt Disney Company has earned a reputation for aggressive litigiousness over such matters. In 1989, it threatened to sue, for example three Florida daycares for painting Disney characters in a mural on its walls.
But more recently, McLeod says, the company has turned its focus from copyright and trademark related lawsuits to curbing online piracy. It’s possible, he says, an old cartoon from 1928 may not be all that valuable in 2024. The company even made Steamboat Willie available on YouTube for free back in 2009.
“Here is the irony,” McCleod says. “Steamboat Willie is based on a popular film at the time.”
Steamboat Bill, Jr. was a Buster Keaton hit that came out earlier that year. Steamboat Willie is a play on its name.
“Mickey Mouse made an appearance in a film for the first time that very much relied on another copyrighted work that helped propel its popularity,” McLeod continues. “When you’re referring to something that’s popular, most likely it’s going to create wider audiences and audiences who are recognizing that that particular reference.”
As enshrined in the Constitution, he says, copyright was originally intended to protect creators for fewer than 30 years. While copyright extensions may enrich corporations, they impoverish the cultural conversations that rely on relevancy, innovation and creativity to drive artistic and technological progress.
Lifestyle
How actress Laverne Cox became the woman of her dreams (CT+) : Consider This from NPR
NEW YORK, NEW YORK – APRIL 21: Laverne Cox attends the “Animal Farm” New York Premiere at Regal Theater on April 21, 2026 in New York City.
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In 2013, when the Netflix series Orange Is the New Black came out, the world met the character Sophia Burset — a Black trans woman serving as the resident hairstylist in prison.
For much of the audience, it was also the first time they met actress Laverne Cox — who landed the role of Sophia at the age 40, just when she was thinking of quitting acting altogether.
In her new memoir Transcendent, Cox talks about the challenges she faced long before Netflix came knocking: a mother who withheld love, a father who was never around and the brutal denigration she encountered growing up Black and trans in the deep South.
To unlock this and other bonus content — and listen to every episode sponsor-free — sign up for NPR+ at plus.npr.org. Regular episodes haven’t changed and remain available every weekday.
Email us at considerthis@npr.org.
Lifestyle
Judy Blume says she’s done writing: ’50 years is enough!’
Scott Simon talks with author Judy Blume at the Santa Fe International Literary Festival in May.
Tira Howard Photography./Courtesy Santa Fe International Literary Festival
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Tira Howard Photography./Courtesy Santa Fe International Literary Festival
Judy Blume is the legendary writer of books for young adults including Are You There God It’s Me Margaret, Deenie, Tiger Eyes, Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing and Blubber.
Her last book, 2015’s In The Unlikely Event, was published more than a decade ago. Blume now spends her time reading children’s books behind the counter at her bookstore in Key West, Florida. Though she says she is done writing, her books remain beloved; her readers numerous and devoted.
Judy Blume spoke with NPR’s Scott Simon at the Santa Fe International Literary Festival in May. Here are excerpts from that conversation, edited in parts for clarity and length.
Scott Simon: How did you begin to write? What do you think made you a writer?
Judy Blume: I was a reader. And, you know, I meet so many kids and they say, “I want to be a writer when I grow up, but I don’t like to read.” And I say, “You know what? Forget being a writer.” Because I think every writer — that I know anyway — grew up a reader. And certainly that was true for me.
Simon: What was the spark that set it in motion from reading to writing, do you think?
Blume: I was married young. I had two kids young. And I was desperate for a creative outlet. I loved taking care of babies, but I needed something else and it could have been anything.
Simon: I have read that at one point in your life you made felt art pieces?
Scott Simon with Judy Blume in Santa Fe in May.
Tira Howard Photography/Courtesy Santa Fe International Literary Festival
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Tira Howard Photography/Courtesy Santa Fe International Literary Festival
Blume: Oh God, my first career. You know, I stopped because the Elmer’s glue — I’m an allergic person — started to give me funny things on the tips of my fingers. I made $300 selling those. And I bought myself a small electric typewriter. And the rest is history.
But I always had stories inside my head — when I was 9 years old. I bounced a rubber ball against the side of my house for hours. But really what was going on were stories. Fabulous stories, very melodramatic. I never told anybody. I never asked a friend, “Hey, do you have stories inside your head all the time?” Because I thought they’d think I was weird, which I might have been. So the stories were always there.
Simon: When you were writing, what was the process like for you?
Blume: Well, I kept a notebook for each book and I scribbled everything in it. Everything, everything, everything for a long time. For months.
And then on the day that I feel ready to start, well, that’s either the scariest part of writing or the best. Because, you know, when you have a good day — I mean, I had kids, and I would sit down at the dinner table and I would say, like, “You will never believe what Tony did today.” Because they’re real. They’re real to you. And you’re living with them for months, sometimes years. And you’re locked up in a little room all day with them. That’s why 50 years is enough. I was ready to come out into the world.
But I have found another career that I love dearly. I have a bookstore and I love that.
Tira Howard Photography/Courtesy Santa Fe International Literary Festival
Simon: I get the idea that you, at least for the moment, don’t miss writing right now.
Blume: I don’t miss writing but I’m very glad that I wrote. I mean, writing changed my life. But it was time to let it go. Could I have come up with more ideas and written more books? Yes. But I’m really happy that I found something else that I love to do.
Simon: Do characters ever come calling on you?
Blume: No. They know better. They’re quiet.
You know how many letters I get? “We need Judy to write a book — Margaret In Menopause.”
Margaret is always going to be 12. She’s not knocking, saying, “Let me out. I’m in menopause!”
They are what they are. They stay in the book. They stay in the book. They live for me in the book. And then I have to let them go.
Lifestyle
James Burrows, director of classic shows ‘Cheers’ and ‘Friends,’ dies at 85
Director James Burrows attends the “Will & Grace” start of production kick off event and ribbon cutting ceremony at Universal City Plaza on August 2, 2017 in Universal City, California.
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LOS ANGELES — James Burrows, who helped create volumes of laughter as director of more than a thousand episodes of such classic television comedies as “Cheers,” “Taxi,” “Friends” and “Will and Grace,” died Friday. He was 85.
His family confirmed his death in a statement to People, saying he “passed away peacefully today surrounded by his family.” No location or cause of death was provided.
Burrows spent his career behind the camera specializing in situation comedies. Few viewers recognized him or knew his name, other than to see it flash quickly on the screen in the opening credits. But they knew his work.
Burrows got his start in television relatively late at age 35 in 1974, directing episodes of “The Mary Tyler Moore Show,” “The Bob Newhart Show,” and “Laverne & Shirley.”
He co-created “Cheers,” directing 243 of the 273 episodes, as well as all 246 episodes of “Will and Grace.”
He also helmed multiple episodes of such hits as “Frasier,” “Friends” and “Mike & Molly,” and the pilots of “Two and a Half Men” and “The Big Bang Theory.”
“When I direct a television show, I try to reach that sweet spot where the best script meets the best performance and the best chemistry between performers,” Burrows wrote in his 2022 memoir “Directed by James Burrows.” “Hitting that exact moment, where these factors land in combination, results in the sweetest and most enduring laugh.”
His family said, “Burrows understood that great comedy was never simply about laughter. It was about humanity, connection, and truth. That understanding became the foundation of a career that forever changed television.
“But beyond his remarkable achievements, Burrows will be remembered for something even greater: his kindness, generosity, and unwavering belief in the people around him. He possessed a rare ability to make everyone better and was known for remembering every person he met by name, making colleagues at every level feel seen, valued, and appreciated,” the family statement said.
Born James Edward Burrows on Dec. 30, 1940, in Los Angeles, he moved to New York when he was 5 years old. He spent five years in the Metropolitan Opera Children’s Chorus until his voice started to change. He attended LaGuardia High School of Music & Art.
His father was writer, director and producer Abe Burrows, whose Broadway hits included “Guys and Dolls” and “Can-Can.” The elder Burrows also mentored Larry Gelbart, future creator and producer of the TV show “M(asterisk)A(asterisk)S(asterisk)H.”
The younger Burrows spent hours of his youth in theaters and studios watching his father work, dining with him at such famed New York haunts as Sardi’s and Gallagher’s and meeting celebrities who attended his father’s New Year’s Eve parties.
After earning a bachelor’s degree from Oberlin College, Burrows attended the graduate program of the Yale School of Drama, where his classmates included actor-comedian Robert Klein, playwright John Guare and film director John Badham.
At Yale, he was required to take directing classes and he got hooked.
Burrows’ first sitcom experience was as Burl Ives’ dialogue coach on “O.K. Crackerby!” which was directed by his father and ran for one season on ABC in 1965.
From there, he was an assistant on “The Patty Duke Show.” He moved back to New York and worked for Broadway producers Lee Guber, Frank Ford and Shelly Gross. He first met actor Moore while working on the Broadway production of “Holly Golightly,” an adaptation of “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” that was directed by his father.
Burrows eventually worked as a stage manager for various road productions, where he met such actors as Hugh O’Brien, Zsa Zsa Gabor and Julie Harris.
By 1974, after working in dinner theater and summer stock, he turned on his television and saw Moore’s eponymous TV show. He wrote her a letter asking if there was any opening “small or smaller” at her production company that he could fill, according to his memoir.
Moore’s husband and business partner, Grant Tinker, invited Burrows to Los Angeles to direct an episode of the comedy. He apprenticed for MTM Enterprises, which had four sitcoms on the air at the same time.
Burrows cited his theater background for learning how to give actors direction and block out scenes. He’s credited for being one of the first sitcom directors to increase the typical multi-camera television shoot from three to four cameras.
The common thread between Burrows’ shows were the bonds between friends and unrelated families, whether it was the motley crew of regulars meeting at the bar in “Cheers” or the drivers working toward a better life in “Taxi” or the 20-somethings sharing the same apartment building in “Friends.”
“The best sitcoms transcend the screen and reach out and grab the audience by the throat and by the heart,” Burrows wrote in his memoir.
He relished discovering new acting talent while directing more than 75 pilots that were picked up as series.
“Having directed over a thousand shows means that almost any night you can turn on your television or go online and find a show that I directed. I’m very proud of that,” he wrote in his memoir.
In 2019, Burrows was an executive producer on live productions of “All in the Family” and “The Jeffersons” with famous actors re-creating episodes of those 1970s comedies.
Burrows was married in 1997 to Debbie Easton, whom he met when she worked as a hairstylist on “Frasier.” Daughters Kat Schatzow, Ellie Gluck and Maggie Burrows, who followed her father into directing, are from his first marriage to Linda Solomon, who died in 2004. His stepdaughter Paris is from his wife’s previous marriage. He has a sister, Laurie Burrows Grad, and seven grandchildren.
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