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New insights into Shakespeare’s writing offer cause to give pause, reflect on variety of other creative writing over time

By Paul Schaumburg posted 04-30-2018 09:32

  

Last blog, I noted that Thu-Huon Ha, on Feb. 8, 2018, on the internet, published an article he wrote, saying that scholars long have accepted that Shakespeare’s plays often featured plots and characters “borrowed,” from others, but also elevated in quality via Shakespeare’s own writing. What apparently is new is previously undiscovered connections to both the similar language and matching context of some of Shakespeare’s “borrowing.”

I then pointed out that Shakespeare wasn’t worried about copyrights or his legacy, neither of which existed at that time. Instead, he was concerned about getting the new play together on time for his company of actors. In contrast, we in modern times are very conscious of copyrights and plagiarism. However, even that is not always clear-cut.

Country music journalist Michael Kosser wrote in American Songwriter magazine Jan. 2, 2009, a tribute to Don Helms, Hank Williams’ steel guitar player, who had died a few months earlier. Kosser’s article asks, “Did (Hank Williams) write the songs he had his name on? Some say there’s no way he could have written ‘So Lonesome I Could Cry’ – that the song had to have been the creation of Hank’s mentor and publisher, veteran songwriter Fred Rose, who wrote ‘Blue Eyes Cryin’ in the Rain,’ probably wrote ‘Chattanoogie Shoeshine Boy’ and had a long and honored track record as both a pop and country tunesmith. Don Helms was there when most of the Hank Williams songbook was being written, and he knew. ‘I don’t know where he’d get his ideas – he’d just come up with an idea and he’d start writin’ it,’” Helms said of Williams.

Did Hank write all the songs attributed to him? I don’t know. However, my point, again, is that under the circumstances of his day, it was common for a songwriter of that era to get sole credit for writing a song that might have benefitted from the touching up of a colleague, especially a mentor and tunesmith.

Conversely, as the rewards of royalties in the era of recorded music became greater and more obvious, giving someone credit for writing or co-writing a song when no credit was due became  fairly commonplace. More than one recording artist has required getting at least partial writer’s credit (and, therefore, royalties) in order for the artist to record the song. As one example, Eileen Sisk boldly accuses Buck Owens of repeatedly doing so in her 2010 book, “Buck Owens: A Biography.”new-insights-into-shakespeares-writing-offer-cause

Such a common practice is a given point of Waylon Jennings’ “Nashville Bum:”

“Here's a song that I wrote by myself, note for note.
With a lot of help it might make Number 1.
You can change a word or two and I'll give half of it to you.
I'll be a star tomorrow, but today, I'm a Nashville bum.”

Willie Nelson apparently sold a song for a pair of cowboy boots early in his career.

The 2005 biopic of Johnny Cash, “Walk the Line,” has Cash telling his then-wife, Vivian, that he co-wrote “Ring of Fire,” while fishing with a friend (the co-writer, Merle Kilgore), but that he gave his half of the songwriting credit and royalties to June Carter. Even without the movie confession, Johnny Cash’s very DNA as a songwriter is unmistakable throughout that song, which still bears Carter’s name as co-writer, not Cash’s.

So, are there any circumstances that would qualify as plagiarism in popular entertainment? Oh, tons of them!

The writers of the 1950s hit song, “He’s So Fine,” successfully sued former Beatle George Harrison for using their tune in his song “My Sweet Lord.” Harrison didn’t overtly pursue the same melody, but undoubtedly had heard it many times and probably used it unconsciously.

Despite my tremendous respect for the late, great Johnny Carson, everybody knew that Johnny lifted the odd “oh-HO” of his TV matinee movie host character, Art Fern, directly from Jackie Gleason’s spoiled rich boy, Reggie Van Gleason III. After comedian Jonathan Winters won the Mark Twain Prize for Humor in 1999, journalist Joel Stein asked him, “You think stealing your Maude Frickert character for his Aunt Blabby will keep Johnny Carson from ever winning the award?” Winters, jokingly, but knowingly answered, “I hope so. I hope so.” Carson had retired in 1992. Still, back in the day, it’s more than logical that neither Gleason nor Winters complained, risking the ire of Carson, one of the most powerful men in show business and host of the then-premier late night network TV talk show.

My ultimate point in all of this is that originality, plagiarism, and writer’s credit are far more complex issues than one would think.

 

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