The Monopolists

The Monopolists Plot Summary

Introduction

In millions of homes across the world, families gather around colorful cardboard squares, rolling dice and trading properties in the beloved game of Monopoly. But behind this iconic game lies a surprising tale of deception, innovation theft, and corporate manipulation that remained hidden for decades. The story begins not with Charles Darrow, the man long credited as Monopoly's inventor, but with a progressive woman named Lizzie Magie who created the game in 1904 as a protest against monopolistic business practices. The remarkable journey of Monopoly weaves through utopian communities, Depression-era struggles, wartime espionage, and culminates in an epic legal battle that exposed the truth. This historical account challenges our understanding of intellectual property, revealing how a passionate economics professor named Ralph Anspach fought a corporate giant to uncover the game's true origins. Through this exploration, readers will gain insight into how history gets written by winners, how ideas evolve through folk culture, and how corporations can literally bury challenges to their authority—both figuratively and literally.

Chapter 1: Forgotten Origins: Lizzie Magie's Anti-Monopoly Game (1904)

At the dawn of the 20th century, as America grappled with the consequences of unbridled capitalism, a remarkable woman named Elizabeth "Lizzie" Magie developed a board game that would become the unacknowledged precursor to Monopoly. Born in 1866, Lizzie was the daughter of James Magie, a newspaper editor who had traveled with Abraham Lincoln during his famous debates with Stephen Douglas and who instilled in his daughter progressive political values and a critical view of monopolies. In an era when women rarely held patents, Lizzie Magie applied for and received a patent in 1904 for her "Landlord's Game." Her invention featured a square board with properties arranged around the perimeter, railroads, utilities, a jail, and even a "Go to Jail" space—elements that would later become familiar to millions of Monopoly players. But Lizzie's intention was not merely entertainment. As a follower of economist Henry George, she designed the game to demonstrate the negative effects of land monopolies and the potential benefits of George's "single tax" theory, which proposed that individuals should own what they create but land should belong to everyone. The Landlord's Game was revolutionary in offering two sets of rules. Under the "anti-monopolist" rules, all players were rewarded when wealth was created; under the "monopolist" rules, the goal was to crush opponents by acquiring monopolies. "It is a practical demonstration of the present system of land-grabbing with all its usual outcomes and consequences," Lizzie wrote in a 1902 issue of Single Tax Review. This educational purpose reflected her belief that games could serve as powerful teaching tools, especially for children who "like to handle the make-believe money, deeds, etc." Despite Lizzie's innovation, her role as the game's creator would be almost entirely erased from history. In 1910, she sold another game called Mock Trial to Parker Brothers, establishing a relationship with the company that would later play a crucial role in obscuring her contribution to Monopoly. The Landlord's Game spread organically among progressive communities, especially at the single-tax enclave of Arden, Delaware, where residents made their own handmade versions. From there, it traveled to university campuses and intellectual circles in the Northeast, gradually evolving through folk transmission. By the 1920s, the game had evolved significantly from Lizzie's original design, but her core mechanics remained intact. When Parker Brothers later purchased rights to her game in 1935—paying her just $500 with no royalties—they buried her contribution to history, focusing instead on promoting Charles Darrow's false creation story. Lizzie, who died in obscurity in 1948, wrote poignantly to George Parker: "Farewell, my beloved brain-child. I regretfully part with you, but I am giving you to another who will be able to do more for you than I have done."

Chapter 2: The Quakers' Role: Atlantic City and Folk Evolution (1920s-1930s)

In the prosperous yet tumultuous 1920s, Atlantic City stood as America's premier seaside resort—a playground for the wealthy with its grand hotels, famous Boardwalk, and Steel Pier. Behind the glitz of this vacation destination lived a community of Quakers whose contribution to Monopoly's development would prove crucial, yet remain largely unrecognized for decades. In 1929, a young Quaker teacher named Ruth Hoskins arrived in Atlantic City, bringing with her a version of the "monopoly game" that she had learned in Indianapolis. The Atlantic City Quakers, particularly Ruth and Cyril Harvey, embraced the game and began making their own versions on oilcloth boards. What made their contribution unique was their decision to replace the generic property names with specific Atlantic City locations. Pennsylvania Avenue, Baltic Avenue, Marvin Gardens (misspelled from the actual "Marven Gardens"), and Boardwalk—these now-iconic names reflected the socioeconomic geography of their city. The expensive Boardwalk and Park Place represented upscale areas, while the affordable Baltic and Mediterranean Avenues corresponded to poorer neighborhoods where many African Americans lived. Jesse Raiford, a real estate agent and friend of the Harveys, contributed further by assigning realistic property values to the locations. The Quakers also added other innovations, including the colorful grouping of properties into monopolies and the use of small wooden houses and hotels. "We wanted a real game," Cyril Harvey later recalled. "A game that fit our situation, was the whole idea of it." These Quaker players typically gathered around card tables late into the night, developing the game through collective play without bothering to write down formal rules. What the Quakers participated in was a classic example of folk game evolution—a process where games evolve organically through person-to-person transmission. Similar to how folk songs change as they pass from one singer to another, the monopoly game acquired new features and lost others as it spread. The Quakers eliminated the more complex auction rules from Lizzie Magie's original game, for instance, possibly because they found them morally questionable or simply too complicated for children. The game passed beyond Atlantic City when Ruth and Eugene Raiford, relatives of Jesse Raiford, learned the game and took it to Philadelphia. There, they introduced it to their friends Charles and Olive Todd, who in turn taught it to their old school friend Esther Darrow and her husband, Charles. This seemingly innocent act of sharing a beloved pastime would set in motion one of the greatest appropriations in board game history, resulting in millions of Monopoly sets that would feature Atlantic City street names without acknowledging the Quakers who put them there.

Chapter 3: Charles Darrow and Corporate Rewriting of History (1935)

The Great Depression gripped America in the early 1930s, bringing unprecedented economic hardship to millions. Among those struggling was Charles Darrow, an unemployed salesman living in Philadelphia with his wife Esther and their two young sons. One son, Richard (known as Dickie), had suffered brain damage from scarlet fever, adding medical concerns to the family's financial troubles. It was amid these dire circumstances that Charles Darrow encountered the monopoly game through his wife's childhood friend, Charles Todd. After learning the game from the Todds, Darrow recognized its commercial potential. He began producing handmade sets, with the help of a local printer named Patterson & White, and selling them for four dollars each. The game featured the Atlantic City street names from the Quakers' version and the exact same rules that Charles Todd had written down for him. Even the misspelling of "Marvin Gardens" (instead of the correct "Marven Gardens") was copied directly from Todd's board, an error that would later become crucial evidence of plagiarism. In 1934, Darrow attempted to sell the game to both Milton Bradley and Parker Brothers, but both companies initially rejected it. Parker Brothers' executives thought the game was too complicated and would take too long to play—an ironic assessment given Monopoly's later reputation for marathon sessions. Undeterred, Darrow continued selling his version, which became increasingly popular, especially after being featured in F.A.O. Schwarz's catalog. By early 1935, Parker Brothers reconsidered and purchased the rights to the game for a reported $7,000 plus residuals. What happened next transformed board game history: Parker Brothers and Darrow constructed an origin story that completely erased the game's folk evolution and Lizzie Magie's original invention. According to their tale, Darrow had invented the game from scratch while unemployed, drawing Atlantic City properties on oilcloth in his basement to entertain his family. This rags-to-riches narrative—of an ordinary man creating a game that saved both himself and Parker Brothers from financial ruin during the Depression—was tucked into every Monopoly box sold for decades. The company was aware of the game's earlier existence. In fact, Parker Brothers president Robert Barton took extraordinary steps to secure control of the game, purchasing Lizzie Magie's 1924 patent and buying out potential competitors like Darrow's Finance. When asking Darrow to provide a written history of the game's creation, Barton noted it would be useful "if any patent questions do come up." Despite these concerns, on December 31, 1935, Darrow received a patent for Monopoly—a remarkable achievement given that the U.S. Patent Office typically rejected applications with strong similarities to existing patents. By crafting and promoting this fictional narrative, Parker Brothers and Darrow engaged in what Ralph Anspach would later call "the billion-dollar Monopoly swindle." The true collaborative, folk evolution of the game was replaced with a single-inventor myth that served corporate interests. This fabrication would stand largely unchallenged for nearly four decades, as Monopoly became the world's best-selling board game and Charles Darrow became America's first millionaire game designer.

Chapter 4: Parker Brothers' Dominance During the Great Depression

As the Great Depression devastated the American economy, Parker Brothers found itself in dire financial circumstances. By 1932, the company's sales figures had plummeted to half of what they had been before the economic collapse. Founded in 1883 by sixteen-year-old George Parker, the Salem, Massachusetts-based firm had built its reputation on games like Banking and Ping-Pong, but now faced potential bankruptcy. In this climate of uncertainty, George Parker stepped down in 1933, appointing his son-in-law Robert Barton as president with complete control of the company. The acquisition of Monopoly in 1935 transformed Parker Brothers' fortunes almost overnight. In its first year at Parker Brothers, Monopoly sold 278,000 sets. By 1936, that figure skyrocketed to 1,751,000, generating millions in profits. The company's manufacturing facilities struggled to keep pace with demand, reportedly receiving so many telegraphed orders that employees filed them in laundry baskets. One order for three million dice was placed with a manufacturer in Rhode Island—a staggering figure that demonstrated Monopoly's explosive popularity. Why did Monopoly succeed so spectacularly during an economic depression? Paradoxically, the game gave players a chance to vicariously experience wealth and property ownership at a time when such opportunities were vanishing in real life. As Edward Parker, George's grandnephew, later observed: "During the Depression, people did not have enough money to go out to the shows... So they stayed home and played Monopoly. It also gave them a feeling of wealth." The fantasy of buying and selling properties, collecting rent, and potentially bankrupting opponents provided psychological escape from the harsh economic realities of the 1930s. With Monopoly's success secured, Robert Barton took aggressive steps to eliminate any potential threats to Parker Brothers' control of the game. When a Texan named Rudy Copeland attempted to market a game called Inflation in 1936, Parker Brothers promptly sued him for patent infringement. Copeland countersued, claiming that Monopoly had been widely played before Darrow's patent and therefore was in the public domain. Rather than risk exposure of Monopoly's true origins, Parker Brothers settled with Copeland for a reported $10,000 in exchange for his silence. Similar legal actions were taken against other game manufacturers, including Milton Bradley, which produced a game called Easy Money. Rather than pursue a lengthy court battle, Parker Brothers allowed Milton Bradley to continue producing Easy Money through a royalty agreement—a shrewd move that prevented Milton Bradley from potentially suing Parker Brothers for patent fraud. These aggressive legal maneuvers, combined with international licensing agreements like the one with Britain's Waddingtons, cemented Parker Brothers' global dominance in the board game market. By the 1940s, Monopoly had become so embedded in American culture that it even played a role in World War II. According to some accounts, special Monopoly sets were created for Allied prisoners of war, containing hidden maps, compasses, and other escape tools. While the full extent of this operation remains unclear, the story illustrates how thoroughly Monopoly had penetrated society in just a few years. Through shrewd business tactics, aggressive legal action, and the calculated promotion of a compelling but fictional origin story, Parker Brothers had transformed a folk game into a corporate empire.

Chapter 5: The Anti-Monopoly Crusade: Ralph Anspach's Legal Battle (1970s)

In 1973, at the height of the OPEC oil crisis, Ralph Anspach, an economics professor at San Francisco State University, found himself engaged in a heated discussion with his twelve-year-old son about monopolies. The professor had been explaining how the oil cartel's price-fixing was harming consumers when his son raised a perceptive question: If monopolies were so bad, why was Monopoly such a fun game? This innocent query sparked a chain of events that would eventually lead to one of the most significant trademark battles in American history. Inspired by his son's question, Anspach created Anti-Monopoly, a game designed to teach players about the dangers of concentrated economic power. Instead of rewarding players for building monopolies, his game rewarded them for breaking them up. Players took on the role of trustbusters, indicting fictional companies like "Egson Oil" and "Fort Auto" for anticompetitive practices. The game reflected Anspach's progressive economic views and his belief that competitive capitalism was being undermined by corporate monopolists. Initial sales of Anti-Monopoly were promising, but in February 1974, Anspach received a threatening letter from Parker Brothers' attorney. The letter demanded that he cease using the name "Anti-Monopoly," claiming it infringed on Parker Brothers' trademark. Faced with the prospect of legal action from a corporate giant, most small business owners would have capitulated. Not Anspach. A Holocaust survivor who had fought in the Israeli War of Independence and protested against the Vietnam War, he was accustomed to standing up for his principles. The legal battle that ensued was David versus Goliath in every sense. Parker Brothers' parent company, General Mills, had virtually unlimited resources for litigation, while Anspach was financing his defense with credit cards and a professor's modest salary. His attorney, Herbert Rubin, initially advised him to take a settlement, but Anspach refused, convinced that the word "monopoly" was generic and should not be exclusively controlled by one corporation. As the case progressed, Anspach's son Mark made a crucial discovery: a book mentioning that Monopoly had been based on an earlier game called the Landlord's Game, patented in 1904 by a woman named Lizzie Magie. This revelation transformed Anspach's legal strategy. If he could prove that Monopoly existed before Charles Darrow's 1935 patent, he might be able to invalidate Parker Brothers' trademark claims altogether. Anspach embarked on an exhaustive investigation, tracking down elderly players who had played versions of monopoly before Darrow's patent. His search took him across the country to interview witnesses like Daniel Layman, who had published a similar game called Finance; Charles Todd, who had taught Darrow the game; and members of the Atlantic City Quaker community who had created the version with Atlantic City street names. Each testimony further unraveled the official Darrow invention story. By 1977, despite amassing compelling evidence about Monopoly's true origins, Anspach suffered a devastating legal defeat. Judge Spencer Williams ruled that Anti-Monopoly had indeed infringed on Parker Brothers' trademark, and ordered all remaining copies of Anspach's game destroyed. In a dramatic show of corporate force, Parker Brothers buried approximately 40,000 Anti-Monopoly games in a Minnesota landfill. But Anspach, now deeply invested in both his game and the historical truth, refused to give up.

Chapter 6: Truth Revealed: Supreme Court Victory and Historical Reckoning (1983)

After Judge Williams's ruling, most people would have accepted defeat, but Ralph Anspach was determined to continue fighting. Working with a new attorney, Carl Person, he appealed the decision. The core of their legal argument shifted to focus on what trademark lawyers call "genericide"—the process by which a trademarked term becomes so widely used that it loses its protection and enters the public domain. Words like "aspirin," "escalator," and "thermos" had suffered this fate, and Anspach argued that "monopoly" should too. The appeal centered on a survey that asked consumers why they bought Monopoly. An overwhelming 82 percent gave responses related to the product itself, while only 2 percent mentioned Parker Brothers. This supported Anspach's contention that people bought Monopoly because it was Monopoly, not because it was made by Parker Brothers. In 1982, after nearly a decade of litigation, the United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit sided with Anspach, invalidating Parker Brothers' trademark on "Monopoly" and declaring that the word had become generic. More significantly, the court also stated: "The court's reference to Darrow as the inventor or creator of the game is clearly erroneous." This judicial acknowledgment of what Anspach had spent years proving was a vindication of his research. Parker Brothers and its corporate allies were stunned. Companies like Procter & Gamble and the U.S. Trademark Association joined the fight, warning that the ruling "immediately jeopardizes many of the most successful marks on consumer products." Parker Brothers appealed to the Supreme Court, but in February 1983, the Court declined to hear the case, allowing the appellate decision to stand. After nearly a decade of legal struggle, Anspach had won. The settlement that followed exceeded the original offer he had rejected years earlier, providing enough money to cover his legal expenses and allowing him to continue selling Anti-Monopoly. Most importantly, the truth about Monopoly's origins had finally been made public. The corporate response to this defeat was swift and far-reaching. Trademark lawyers and lobbyists descended on Capitol Hill, pushing for legislation to strengthen copyright protection for corporations. Senator Orrin Hatch proposed an amendment to federal trademark laws that would effectively overturn the consumer motivation test that had helped Anspach win his case. The provision passed easily as part of a larger bill, making it harder for future challenges to established trademarks to succeed. Meanwhile, Parker Brothers quietly began revising its official history of Monopoly. A 1985 rulebook subtly changed the wording to say that Darrow had "presented" Monopoly to Parker Brothers rather than invented it. Later versions acknowledged the influence of the Landlord's Game but still minimized Lizzie Magie's contribution and omitted any mention of the Quakers or Ralph Anspach. Even today, Hasbro (which purchased Parker Brothers in 1991) begins its official Monopoly timeline in 1935, effectively erasing three decades of the game's development. In 1989, Anspach arranged for a plaque to be placed in Atlantic City honoring the Quakers' contribution to Monopoly. Standing before a group that included several of the original Quaker players, he declared: "Parker Brothers supported the Darrow myth for years and bought up a lot of patents and versions of the game that were popular at the time. They monopolized Monopoly. Actually the game was in the public domain. But now the truth is coming out."

Summary

The true story of Monopoly reveals a remarkable pattern where collaborative folk innovation was systematically erased and replaced with a corporate-friendly, single-inventor myth. Throughout its evolution from Lizzie Magie's 1904 anti-capitalist teaching tool to Parker Brothers' global phenomenon, the game's history shows how intellectual property can be manipulated by those with power and resources. The game itself embodies a profound irony: created to demonstrate the dangers of monopolistic practices, it became the centerpiece of aggressive corporate monopolization, with Parker Brothers using legal intimidation and literally burying challenges to maintain control. This historical account offers important lessons that extend far beyond board games. It reminds us to question official histories, especially those that conveniently serve powerful interests. It demonstrates how ideas evolve through folk transmission and how that collaborative process is often erased in favor of heroic inventor narratives. Perhaps most importantly, it shows the value of principled resistance in the face of overwhelming odds. Ralph Anspach's decade-long legal battle not only vindicated his right to produce Anti-Monopoly but also recovered a crucial piece of erased history, giving credit to forgotten innovators like Lizzie Magie and the Atlantic City Quakers. In an age of increasing corporate control over intellectual property, this story serves as both warning and inspiration about the ongoing struggle to determine who owns our cultural commons.

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Mary Pilon

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