I Am the April Fool

Every once in a while the world reaches out to you and does something totally unexpected. This is one of those times.

I came home at 2 am last night and found a letter waiting for me. The return ominously said “Hamfield | Davis LLP” but did not include a return address. I opened the envelope and found this treasure:

There are so many great things here, it's like a multi-course feast. Where to begin?

First, the letterhead. You can't see it, but this was printed on nice paper with a watermark. Hamfield | Davis LLP sure as hell sounds like a law firm, but it's unusal to not include the address or any other contact information in your letterhead. Still, it's a nice, imposing-looking font, probably bold.

The subject line suggests there's an ongoing lawsuit between the Alden Family Trust and Amchem Spirits. I don't know either of these parties, but the “et al” is meant to be ominous. I will learn, soon, that “et al” could mean me!

Next, a case number from the Northern District Court. Ah yes, that good old Northern District Court, I know it well! For the non-lawyers out there, I'll let you in on the joke: there is no Northern District Court. Federal courts are divided into districts, and every state has one or more districts that cover it. These are federal trial courts. In California, there are four: Northern District of California, Southern District of California, Central District of California, and Eastern District of California. Did they mean Northern District of California? Maybe, but they could have also meant Northern District of New York. This is clearly a federal case which means there's federal jurisdiction which means it might be heard anywhere in the country (depending on geography), and it's important to know where. A real attorney doesn't leave out that kind of information.

So, why is Hamfield Davis LLP writing me a letter regarding a federal case? They explain that my website, Koplowicz.com, refers to a drink known as an Old Fashioned. Damn right it does; it's my favorite drink. They explain that their client, the estate of one James Alden, patented the drink shortly after the Civil War, and the drink is properly referred to as “Whiskey in the Alden Fashion.”

Oh my gosh, they hold a patent! I certainly wouldn't want to get sued for patent infringement! Which is exactly what will happen, says the letter, unless I change my patent-infringing ways and start referring to an Old Fashioned as an Alden Fashion. They've already gone after Mad Men and artofmanliness.com, and I could be next. Gosh, that sounds scary! I'd better comply!

Hold on a sec.

First, if the patent is from the 1860's, then it's public domain by now. Second, as I like to point out, “saying it's so don't make it so.” You have a patent, eh? Where is it? What's the patent number? Patents filings public domain. (Which is why many corporations choose to keep their secret technology as trade secrets; if you patent it, you're just opening yourself up to imitation.) Let's not even get into whether a cocktail is patentable. (For one thing, it would have to be non-obvious. Mixing whiskey with syrup and bitters isn't obvious?) But if you can't show me your patent, and you can't show me that it hasn't already expired, then you don't have a patent.

Next, they mention a website that has the “true story” of the Alden Fashioned. Now I'm starting to suspect that this is some corporation's attempt to rebrand and market a classic cocktail as their own. I was tempted to not even link to their website out of resentment for their heavy-handed tactics. But then I took a look at the site:

There's nothing for sale. There's no branding. It's so innocuous, it's adorable!

My next reaction: I need to get in touch with these douchebag lawyers (am I repeating myself?) and tell them to go pound sand. They didn't include any contact information on their letterhead, or on the envelope they sent the letter in. A quick Google search showed . . . nothing. The letter is signed by “Franklin P. Hamfield, Esq.,” and a quick Google search of his name gives me . . . nothing. California lists all active and inactive attorneys on the State Bar website, but he's not there either. Martindale Hubbard and other services maintain lists of every attorney with a “grade,” but he's not listed on any of them either. The envelope is postmarked in San Francisco, so if he is an attorney working here and filing a suit in the Northern District of California, it would certainly be strange for him to not be a California-licensed attorney. It's not a requirement, but it would be strange.  What about the defendants in the suit?  Google has nothing for Amchem Spirits.  Companies that manufacture and sell alcohol usually advertise themselves.  Odd.

One final clue, and everything is starting to fall into place. Go back and look at the date on the letter. April 1.

Ah yes, you got me. To whomever concocted this brilliant story involving patent law, a popular TV show, my favorite website,  my favorite hobby, my favorite cocktail, and then executed the whole thing so brilliantly, I tip my hat to you, sir or ma'am. I myself have participated in my share of fine April Fool's pranks; I used to hack my mother's computer so icons ran away from the mouse. One year I got my evil French teacher to walk around all day with a fish on her back. But this is the most brilliant April Fool's joke I've ever seen, and I've seen my share. Happy belated April Fool's Day.

J<