Margaret Mitchell's Gone With the Wind (34 page)

Mitchell's enjoyment of the foreign editions fell by the wayside in November when a Dutch court denied her motion for an emergency injunction against ZHUM's unauthorized edition. Pending a full trial on the merits of the case, which could take months, ZHUM was free to sell its translation of
Gone With the Wind
. Mitchell likened the news to an explosion of shrapnel.
⁷⁴
Because overseas communication was so difficult in those days, the Marshes did not have a firm understanding of what had gone wrong. The best they could figure is that the Dutch court had made its decision based on a misimpression that the first American edition had been released in May 1936, rather than June. Pot, Knipscheer's associate who had appeared in court on Mitchell's behalf, failed to explain that the May date in the first printing did not reflect the actual month of publication in the United States.
⁷⁵
The Marshes blamed Knipscheer for the adverse ruling, claiming he had not consulted with them in preparing his pleadings.
⁷⁶

Angry and ready to wrangle, Mitchell explored her options for challenging the decision. Not willing to risk further misunderstandings, the Marshes looked to the U.S. government to clarify matters with the Dutch court. Expecting a speedy resolution, Mitchell and her brother traveled to Washington, D.C., where they met with Georgia senator Walter F. George, who escorted them to the Department of State. They met with, among others, Wallace McClure in the Office of Treaty Affairs, an expert on international copyright law who had experience with Dutch publishers in similar cases. With McClure's support, the department wired the American ambassador in Holland asking him to confer with Pot and to approach the Dutch government about protecting her interests.
⁷⁷
Although the U.S. government could not officially intervene, Mitchell appreciated McClure's support. Over the coming months—and for many years thereafter—she would rely on him for guidance in navigating the murky waters of international copyright law.

From McClure's perspective, the timing of Mitchell's problem with ZHUM was fortuitous. The Berne treaty happened to be up for ratification before the U.S. Senate that December. If America joined the convention, American publishers and authors would automatically have copyright protection in most of Europe without having to go through the hoops of the convoluted “backdoor” provision. McClure encouraged Mitchell to take a stand. As he explained to her brother, “Patriotic citizens from Mark Twain to the present day, over a period of many years, have sought to bring about this result. If your sister can achieve it, I suggest that she may be doing a service to her fellows that is at least somewhat comparable to that of producing a masterpiece like
Gone With the Wind
.”
⁷⁸
Ratification would not affect Mitchell's current case against the Dutch publisher, but she agreed to help. As she saw it, joining Berne would encourage the development of American literature if writers in the United States were protected by their government and did not have to waste time, energy, and money fighting for their rights in foreign countries.

At McClure's invitation, the author made plans to appear before the Senate Committee on Foreign Relations. Although reluctant to draw attention to herself, she seemed energized by the chance to tell her story—a rare state for her in those hectic and stressful days. She wrote to Brett that she was “all a-twit” and wondered “if I am to have a secret service man for my very own. Things do get curiouser and curiouser!”
⁷⁹
To Mitchell's disappointment, the ratification issue bogged down in committee, and the hearing date was postponed. She apparently did not make the trip to Washington.* But McClure had planted a seed in the author's mind about the importance of Berne ratification, and it became a cause she supported the rest of her life. She also became more strongly convinced that she had to fight ZHUM in court, no matter the cost or inconvenience.

When Macmillan learned that Mitchell had failed to secure an injunction against ZHUM, George Brett began to see that his firm could no longer take a disinterested position in the case. If Mitchell was denied coverage under Berne's “backdoor” provision, it would have serious implications for all American authors and publishers. He was not willing to accept responsibility for Macmillan's missteps that had created the problem or join the case with her—as Saunders thought the firm should—but he did reach out to Mitchell and offer support. He told the author he was frightfully worried about the “low down snide piece of business” and encouraged her to fight.
⁸⁰
He suggested that she hire Macmillan's lawyer, Taft, to help develop a legal strategy on appeal. He also expressed an interest in working with the Department of State and traveled to Washington to meet with McClure.

Sensing that the legal team Saunders had arranged was not up to par, the Marshes took Brett's advice and hired Taft to assess how matters were being handled by the Dutch lawyers. Taft looked into Knipscheer's qualifications and came away underwhelmed. According to a report Taft received from government sources, it appeared the Dutchman had not been admitted to the bar in the Netherlands and had been disciplined for unauthorized practice of law. Worse, rumors were circulating that he might have been involved in a blackmail incident, although he did not have a criminal record.
⁸¹
Taft fired Knipscheer and Pot and replaced them with J. A. Fruin, whom Taft's sources assured him was one of the best lawyers in the Netherlands.

The ordeal with the lawyers behind them, the Marshes hoped things would be put to rights in short order. Through Mitchell's clipping service, the couple learned that the Dutch publisher had released the first two of its planned three-volume edition of
Gone With the Wind
. By all accounts, the books were beautifully made with attractive illustrations. Although pleased with the quality, Mitchell noted with frustration that ZHUM could well afford to spend money on the edition given that the firm was not bothering to pay her royalties. In a small attempt at humor, Saunders commented that the Dutch reviews were rather “flat” and suggested that “perhaps the flatness of the country is responsible.”
⁸²
Mitchell, too, managed to make light of a serious situation. When she eventually obtained copies of the pirated book, she sent Latham a set inscribed with a line from an old poem: “In matters of commerce, the fault of the Dutch is granting too little and taking too much.”
⁸³

* Mitchell purchased the meager assets of Davis's estate when it was auctioned in 1940. Consisting mostly of the elderly woman's personal papers and other assorted “junk,” Mitchell paid thirty dollars for the lot and considerably more than that to have the items shipped to Atlanta. Perhaps she was curious to learn more about Davis or wanted to make sure that any papers related to the lawsuit did not end up in the hands of the press or a third party.

* In a 1947 letter to George Brett, Mitchell referred to having appeared before a Senate subcommittee on the issue of international copyright protection. However, no details about when such a presentation occurred have been uncovered.

11
From Greenland's Icy Mountains
to India's Coral Strand

I
f the Marshes held a grudge against Marion Saunders for bringing J. M. W. Knipscheer into their lives, they kept it to themselves. Yet, her handling of the matter must have been on their minds when they were confronted with a new set of problems brewing with the foreign accounts. In the early days of 1938, the couple learned of two additional unauthorized translations. The first was an Italian edition, to be published by Mondadori, a firm with which Saunders was negotiating a contract. John Marsh was waiting for the deal to be formalized when he read in a press clipping that Mondadori's edition would be on the market any day. The publisher also sent Macmillan copies of its promotional materials, as if the deal was already final.
¹
Marsh wrote Saunders, demanding to know why the contract had not been signed and where the royalties were. As usual, the agent acted unconcerned; she blamed the delay on difficulties exporting money from Benito Mussolini's Italy.
²
The situation worked out amicably, but it was further evidence to Marsh that the overseas contracts—and Saunders—had to be watched carefully.

When Margaret Mitchell received the Italian edition, she could not help but be charmed. She found the dust jacket “colorful and spirited” and was amused to discover that Scarlett's name had been changed to Rossella, which she guessed meant “little Rosie.”
³
She reported to Harold Latham that her hairdresser, a second-generation Italian, had been thrilled with the book when she showed it to him: “He was so enthusiastic about the translation that he cut off most of my . . . hair while describing it.”
⁴
However, there were problems with the quality of the volume. She noted the covers were spotted and warped easily. The back was so cheaply put together that she feared it would “come apart in one reading.”
⁵
The publisher apologized for the substandard stock, blaming it on a paper shortage. With Europe on the brink of war, Saunders speculated that the rag material used in higher quality paper was being used for sandbags and soldier's kits.
⁶

More difficult to resolve would be an unauthorized Spanish-language edition circulating in South America. The book had been published in Chile, a non-Berne nation that had signed a reciprocal copyright agreement with the United States. An American author could obtain copyright protection there by registering a work with the government in Santiago. However, neither Macmillan nor the Marshes had done so for
Gone With the
Wind
, and the book was not protected. In the fall of 1937, two savvy Chilean publishers had realized that the book was fair game and raced to release a translation. The winner was a firm named Ercilla that pulled together a flimsy paperback edition.
⁷
When Saunders learned of the unauthorized translation, she decided to pressure the publisher into signing a contract, just as she had tried to do with Zuid-Hollandsche Uitgevers Maatschappij (ZHUM). Without bothering to consult Marsh, she sent Ercilla an airmail letter threatening to go to the newspapers and cry theft if the publisher did not sign a contract.
⁸

When Marsh learned what Saunders had done, he was furious. He worried that negotiating with the rogue publisher would open the door for other firms to slap together cheap editions to weasel their way into obtaining the rights to
Gone With the Wind
. He told Saunders she had overstepped her boundaries by not consulting him. Yet, for all his certainty that Saunders had done the wrong thing, Marsh had no idea what they should do. Mitchell's contract with David O. Selznick obligated her to protect the copyright internationally. Did this mean she had to fight every unauthorized edition that popped up anywhere in the world? Marsh had no idea. Again in over his head, Marsh sought advice from George Brett. It must have been a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that if Macmillan had done its job as Mitchell's agent on the movie contract, foreign piracies would not be her problem. On top of that, Brett had advised the couple that foreign rights were nothing but trouble. They had ignored his warning and now were having to defend the copyright in countries they knew nothing about. “Our greatest difficulty in this situation,” he admitted to Brett, “is that we are constantly confronted with problems that are wholly new and strange to us.”
⁹

The situation presented a new and strange problem for Brett as well. Other American authors had been pirated, but few had bothered to put up much of a fight, given the logistics and the relatively insignificant amount of money involved. Because Mitchell was breaking new ground, Brett could not point her to other precedents as a guide. Once again, he referred the couple to Walbridge Taft.

Marsh asked the lawyer how to deal with the Chilean publisher and what, if anything, could be done to prevent similar situations in other countries. He also instructed Saunders that Taft now called the shots on the foreign editions and nothing should be done on any of the accounts until the lawyer had things under control.
¹⁰
Saunders did not welcome this additional layer of oversight. She had several deals in the works, and her income from them would now be on hold indefinitely. She also did not appreciate Marsh's complaints about her handling of the Chilean situation and vented to the author, “I felt rather like the little boy who discovered a fire, but was not exactly in favor because it was thought he might have prevented it!”
¹¹
To make matters worse, the Marshes were relying on the advice of Macmillan, which, after all, was at fault for not having protected the copyright to begin with. Saunders believed it had been a grave misjudgment on Macmillan's part distributing the books containing the May 1936 copyright date and failing to register the copyright in non-Berne nations. Yet, she did not want to go on record and hash it out with the powerful publisher. “I do not wish to be quoted, you understand,” she told Mitchell, who bore the brunt of her frustration. “We all make mistakes, agents as well as publishers!”