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- From: erikjosefsson@usa.net (erikjosefsson@usa.net)
- Subject: [Patents] The Patent King
- Date: Tue, 8 May 2001 07:02:16 -0400 (EDT)
A colleague has sent you this article from Fortune (<a
href="http://www.fortune.com">http://www.fortune.com</a>).<br>Reply to your
colleague at <a
href="mailto:erikjosefsson@usa.net">erikjosefsson@usa.net</a><br>Please read
this!
//Erik Josefsson<br>=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=<br>JEROME LEMELSON<br>The
Patent King<br>He has a staggering 558 patents, costing companies around the
world some $1.5 billion in licensing fees. But what did Jerome Lemelson
actually invent?<br>Nicholas Varchaver<br>Mon May 14 00:00:00 EDT 2001<br><br>
<div class='BodyText'><p>
This past February, Jerome Lemelson passed an impressive milestone: The
number of companies paying for licenses on his patents reached 750.
</p>
<p>
The list includes an amazing array of corporations: old-economy
stalwarts like Alcoa, Boeing, Dow Chemical, Eli Lilly, and GE;
manufacturing behemoths like Ford, GM, and U.S. Steel; technology
titans
like IBM, Hewlett-Packard, and Cisco. The portfolio of products covered
over the years by Lemelson's patents is equally staggering: They
include
components in such everyday consumer products as the Walkman, the VCR,
the fax machine, and the camcorder. At one time or another his patents
have covered Velcro darts and industrial robots, crying dolls and
semiconductors. He even holds patents--perhaps his most important ones,
as we'll see--on the ubiquitous bar-code scanner.
</p>
<p>
So far, these licenses have reaped nearly $1.5 billion. This is almost
surely more than any individual patent holder has ever earned from
licensing patents, and it hasn't come about by accident. Lemelson spent
his life thinking up patents--and then filing lawsuits to enforce them.
So rich is his patent portfolio that even now he remains in litigation
with some 400 companies (including AOL Time Warner, the parent of
FORTUNE's publisher). Well, not Lemelson, exactly--but rather a
for-profit foundation that holds the rights to his patents. Lemelson,
you see, has been dead for three years. When he passed away in October
1997, at the age of 74, he had just won his greatest patent victory,
crushing Ford Motor Co.
</p>
<p>
It would be appealing to view Lemelson as part of the great American
tradition of the small inventor battling the rapacious corporation.
Certainly there have been plenty of people who have seen him in this
light. The distinguished writer Tom Wolfe once hailed him as a "genius"
in a laudatory article. Two of the most prestigious institutions in the
country, MIT and the Smithsonian, have allied themselves with his name.
To many small inventors, Lemelson is a figure of heroic proportions.
</p>
<p>
Lemelson may well have been a genius: He earned 558 patents (some came
after his death), which leaves him four places behind the
inventore-di-tutti-inventori, Thomas Edison. But his was a different
kind of brilliance altogether. In truth, his most lucrative patents
were
the product of a masterful exploitation of the patent system, and they
created a huge legal web that to this day ensnares corporations.
Critics--especially the many businesses he has sued--portray Lemelson
as
the anti-Edison. They contend that he never invented the key
technologies for which he had the patents. Even one of Lemelson's
former
attorneys, Arthur Lieberman, questions whether Lemelson was an inventor
in the layman's sense of the word. Rather, he says, Lemelson would
figure out where an industry was headed--and then place a patent claim
directly in its path. "In many cases, Lemelson didn't patent
inventions," says Lieberman. "He invented patents."
</p>
<p>
The Lemelson litigation and licensing program--which has been
masterminded over the past dozen years by a wily lawyer named Gerald
Hosier--is unprecedented in its size and scope, and has become the
leading edge in a wave of patent litigation. Even as personal-injury
and
product-liability suits--the bane of most large corporations--have been
declining, federal patent lawsuit filings have increased 60% since 1993.
</p>
<p>
Now, though, the Lemelson litigation machine faces a serious threat, in
the form of a suit brought by a group of bar-code-equipment
manufacturers. If they win key rulings in the next year, the Lemelson
operation will, in all likelihood, finally wind down. But if they
don't,
the $1.5 billion collected so far by Lemelson will be just a down
payment on a much larger tab--payment not for the creation of new ideas
but for what can only be called an intellectual land grab.
</p>
<p>
You'd be hard-pressed to find a more appealing representative for
Lemelson's legacy than his widow, Dorothy. Petite, charming, and
ebullient at age 75, Dorothy was married to Lemelson for 43 years. For
many of those years they lived in Metuchen, N.J.--next door to Menlo
Park, the site of Edison's famous laboratory--where Dorothy worked as
an
interior designer while her husband waged his lonely battles with
corporations. These days she has homes in Portland, Ore., and Incline
Village, Nev., and heads the Lemelson family's charitable foundation (a
separate entity from the for-profit foundation that controls his
patents). Since the mid-'90s it has doled out millions for programs
that
foster innovation. Perhaps not surprisingly, MIT and the Smithsonian
have been big recipients of the foundation's largesse.
</p>
<p>
She is also, these days, the chief burnisher of her late husband's
image. She recalls him as a self-effacing man, a gentle soul. Most of
all, though, she wants him to be accepted as a Great Man, something he
longed for during his lifetime. "He wanted people to know what he had
accomplished," she says a little wistfully. "He actually saw very early
on a new world. All the things that he was working on were the things
that created the world that you guys are living in now." His ability to
foresee technological innovations, decades before others, was, in her
view, the true basis of his eventual success. His patent battles? He
simply wanted recompense for the ideas that corporations routinely
stole
from him.
</p>
<p>
Her reminiscences tend to revolve around his obsession with his work.
She recalls Lemelson dragging her to the Patent Office in Washington,
D.C., on the way back from their honeymoon in 1954. ("It was so hot
there," she says. "It was horrible.") Her husband would keep notebooks
by his side when he slept--in case he woke up with a brainstorm. He
would mutter ideas into a Dictaphone as he drove his family to the
beach, and then sit under an umbrella (to avoid skin cancer), writing
in
a notebook while his sons frolicked in the water. When he bought toys
for his boys, he would often disassemble them to see how they worked.
</p>
<p>
For Lemelson, being an inventor did not mean waiting for a "eureka
moment." The process entailed a great deal of study and hard
work--though not necessarily the kind you would assume. Lemelson, for
example, didn't build models to test his major high-tech inventions.
Inventing for him was a largely theoretical exercise. An engineer by
training--he had three engineering degrees from NYU--he would spend his
days poring through the 40-odd technical journals he subscribed to,
publications with names such as Automation and Modern Materials
Handling. And it was his immersion in this wide range of technical
information that spawned Lemelson's patents, as he drew connections and
synthesized new ideas.</p></div> <br><br><a
href="http://www.fortune.com/indexw.jhtml?channel=artcol.jhtml&doc_id=202216">http://www.fortune.com/indexw.jhtml?channel=artcol.jhtml&doc_id=202216</a><br><br>Colleague
at Fortune<br><a href="http://www.fortune.com">http://www.fortune.com</a><br>
- [Patents] The Patent King, erikjosefsson@usa.net
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