[Claudia Gary]

Can anyone tell me whether an email from an author is a sufficient document to prove (if ever challenged) that one has received permission from the author to use a particular work?

If so, are there specific requirements regarding the email itself? (Wording of the question, wording of the reply, identifiability of author, etc.)

And if not, what kind of document must be obtained?

Thanks --

Claudia

[Roger Slater]

Assuming there is no dispute about the authenticity of the email itself, I can't see why it wouldn't be sufficient. There's no magic language that is required other than language that clearly and unambiguously give you permission to do what you want to do.

[john savoie]

And some formal permissions are just hard to acquire.
I would use what you can in good faith, and sort it out later if necessary.

[Claudia Gary]

Roger:

Thank you. I believe in hoping for the best and preparing for the worst. If heirs are friendly, I'm sure they will not look for anything to dispute. If, on the other hand, they do want a dispute, I suspect they will try to find something. I'm trying to be sure that if they ever feel that way, there will be no room for doubt. I'm thinking, maybe, a printed email with a "live" signature added to it....


John:

If only!


Thanks again --

Claudia

[Roger Slater]

Claudia, that's why I stressed the use of clear and unambiguous language spelling out precisely what rights they are giving you. It need not be lawyerly language, just absolutely unambiguous and specific. Make sure you cover everything that you anticipate, e.g., what rights, how long, are the rights revocable, etc.

Though not necessary, if you want to make it arguably even more iron-clad, you could provide that they are giving you these rights in exchange for some form of consideration, e.g., $10, and send them that token sum.

[Claudia Gary]

Roger,
Thank you. Does the "token sum" apply even if the author is still alive, and a friend? Or only if the request is posthumous and addressed to heirs?

[Allen Tice]

Claudia, in this case, though I'm sure the idea of money to be made played some part, from what I saw of the son's paintings that hung in his father's place of business, I'd guess simple jealousy could be a factor, as well as possible political pressures from the son's peers. The father was not wealthy, but ran a small business to make expenses. What I saw of the father's poetry was not heavily promoted, and was not expensive. There were translations of a sort already, but they were not accurate or exciting, and were also very inexpensive and casually reproduced. The father had some local fame as a poet, which (I may be wrong) almost certainly overshadowed that of his son. His son's work was intense, surreal, and seemed ambivalent but very political. Athenian politics is a hell of it's own.

[Roger Slater]

Claudia, the idea of the peppercorn is simply a reflection of the notion that courts will not typically inquire into the adequacy of the consideration being received or offered by either party. That means that a contract is a contract, and you can't get out of it by arguing later that you got a raw deal and gave up a lot more than you received. So even a peppercorn is sufficient.

I'm not sure that anyone ever actually gave a peppercorn by way of entering into a contract. I suspect it was actually just a figure of speech some judge or legal scholar came up with to express the idea that courts will not inquire into the value of the consideration.

Ultimately, from the perspective of contract formation, what matters most is that both parties clearly express their intention to be bound by a contract. The function of consideration is symbolic, since whatever it is (even a peppercorn), if the parties recite consideration they are clearly acknowledging their intent to be bound.

In the very early days when the whole idea of a contract was still new, there were other symbolic ways of indicating the parties' intent to be bound, including wax seals and witnesses and such. And if the contract was for the sale of land, it could only become effective if the parties were standing on the land itself and perhaps engaging in a symbolic act such as exchanging roses at midnight (or something like that . . . it's been a long time since I studied this).

[Claudia Gary]

Roger,

Thank you for this explanation. If only most lawyers were familiar with this historic use of a peppercorn, I would be sorely tempted to revise my contract to include same!


Allen,

That's very sad. But it might be sadder still if the father were jealous of the son.

The following quote from Abraham Mendelssohn Bartholdy (from a Wikipedia article about him) is exemplary of what I would consider a healthy attitude -- even if he was complaining:

"The son of the philosopher Moses Mendelssohn, Abraham is supposed to have complained to a friend, 'Once I was the son of a famous father, now I am the father of a famous son.' "


Claudia