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Elizabeth Magie and The Real Origins of Monopoly: A Legacy of Creativity and Theft



Few stories in the history of intellectual property are as disheartening as the tale of Elizabeth MagieĀ and the board game now known as Monopoly. Beneath the brightly coloured properties and the gleaming prospect of winning big lies a darker history of theft, erasure, and the repackaging of a visionary anti-capitalist critique into a celebration of unrestrained greed. To understand this transformation is to understand the story of a brilliant woman, her groundbreaking ideas, and the systemic mechanisms that silenced her voice.


Who Was Elizabeth Magie?

Born in 1866 in Illinois, Elizabeth Magie, or ā€œLizzie,ā€ was ahead of her time. She grew up in an intellectually stimulating environment; her father, James Magie, was a newspaper publisher and political activist who counted Abraham Lincoln among his friends. This connection to progressive politics likely influenced Magieā€™s worldview, particularly her embrace of the economic theories of Henry George.


Henry Georgeā€™s 1879 treatise Progress and PovertyĀ argued for a single tax on land as a solution to growing economic inequality. George believed land could not be truly ownedā€”it was a communal resourceā€”and that taxing it would curb monopolistic exploitation while fostering a fairer society. Magie absorbed these ideas and channelled them into her lifeā€™s work.



Magie wasnā€™t just an intellectual. She was an inventor, writer, performer, and satirist who actively challenged the social norms of her era. In 1893, she made waves by placing an advertisement in newspapers, offering herself as a ā€œyoung woman American slaveā€ for sale to the highest bidder. This was not a genuine attempt at auctioning herself but a biting critique of the limited opportunities and wages available to women in the labour force.


Her inventive spirit was similarly unconventional. She filed multiple patents, a rarity for women of her time. Among them was a patent for a typewriter mechanism and, most famously, one for The Landlordā€™s Game, her 1903 creation that eventually evolved into Monopoly.


Lizzie Magieā€™s original patent for The Landlordā€™s Game, filed in 1903 and granted in 1904
Patent illustration for Lizzie Magie's The Landlord's Game, filed in 1903 and granted in 1904, showcasing the original design concept that inspired the modern Monopoly game.

The Creation of The Landlordā€™s Game

Magie designed The Landlordā€™s GameĀ as an educational tool. Its purpose was to illustrate the effects of economic inequality and to promote Georgist principles. The gameā€™s innovative mechanics featured a square board with properties to buy, rent, or tax. Importantly, the game included two distinct rule sets:

1. Prosperity Rules: Under this system, players pooled resources, paid a single tax on land, and worked together to create equitable wealth distribution. The goal was collective achievement, with all players prospering.

2. Monopoly Rules: Here, players aimed to dominate the market by acquiring properties, collecting rent, and bankrupting opponents. This version starkly showcased the inequities of a capitalist economy.



The dual rules were central to Magieā€™s vision. She wanted to show that monopolistic practices created suffering and economic disparity, whereas a system based on fair taxation could uplift everyone.


Magie self-published the game, producing a limited number of copies. Initially, it gained popularity among fellow Georgists, Quaker communities, and intellectuals along the East Coast. By 1910, The Landlordā€™s GameĀ even found an audience in Scotland, where a version called Brer Fox and RabbitĀ was introduced. Yet, without mass production or aggressive marketing, its reach was limited.


Illustrations from Charles Darrowā€™s patent for Monopoly, filed on August 31, 1935
Patent illustrations for Charles Darrow's Monopoly, showcasing the iconic game board and chance cards, filed on August 31, 1935.

The Path to Monopoly: A Game of Telephone

As the game spread informally, players began tweaking its rules and design. By the 1920s, it had morphed through several iterations, often reflecting local quirks. Property names changed to reflect hometown streets, dice replaced the original auction system, and the game became more focused on competition than education.



The game made its way into fraternity houses, Quaker schools, and middle-class living rooms. One significant version was created by Charles and Olive Todd, a couple living in Atlantic City, who codified many of the features familiar to Monopoly players todayā€”such as the misspelled ā€œMarvin Gardensā€ (originally Marven Gardens). The Todds hosted dinner parties where the game was played, and in early 1933, one of their guests was a down-on-his-luck heater salesman named Charles Darrow.


Darrow was immediately captivated. The Todds generously typed up the rules for him, unaware that they were handing over a goldmine. Darrow copied the game, hired a graphic artist to refine the design, and pitched it to Parker Brothers. The company initially rejected his prototype but reconsidered when Darrowā€™s self-produced version became a hit in local department stores. By the end of 1935, Monopoly was on its way to becoming a global sensation.


The Erasure of Elizabeth Magie

Darrow presented himself as the sole inventor of Monopoly, spinning a story about creating the game in his basement during the Great Depression. It was a narrative perfectly suited to the American Dream: a clever individual pulling himself out of poverty through ingenuity. Parker Brothers embraced this myth wholeheartedly, even going so far as to buy up homemade versions of the game to suppress evidence of its true origins.



But the truth was not entirely hidden. In 1935, Parker Brothers approached Magie to buy the patent for The Landlordā€™s Game. For $500ā€”a paltry sum even thenā€”Magie signed over her rights, believing Parker Brothersā€™ promise to market her game alongside Monopoly. The company did release The Landlordā€™s Game, as well as two other games Magie had designed, but with little fanfare or marketing support. Magieā€™s contributions were quickly overshadowed by Monopolyā€™s meteoric rise.


Magie, disillusioned and hurt, spoke to reporters about the injustice. In one interview, she lamented that her game had been co-opted to glorify the very systems she sought to critique. ā€œThere is nothing new under the sun,ā€ she remarked bitterly. ā€œThere is not an idea in the world that is not old.ā€


The Truth Comes to Light

Magieā€™s story might have been lost to history if not for Ralph Anspach, an economist who created Anti-MonopolyĀ in 1973. Parker Brothers, now a subsidiary of General Mills, sued Anspach for trademark infringement. Determined to fight back, Anspach dug into Monopolyā€™s history and uncovered Magieā€™s pivotal role. His legal battle revealed how Parker Brothers had built their empire on a false foundation.


Anspachā€™s research connected the dots: from Darrowā€™s dinner party with the Todds, to earlier versions of The Landlordā€™s Game, to Magieā€™s original 1903 patent. His findings forced a public reckoning with Monopolyā€™s origins, though by then, the damage had been done. Monopoly had become a cultural phenomenon, its capitalist ethos firmly entrenched in popular imagination.



Monopolyā€™s Legacy and Magieā€™s Vision

Monopoly is now one of the best-selling board games of all time, a symbol of cutthroat competition and accumulation of wealth. Yet its true roots lie in Magieā€™s radical critique of those very values. Her Landlordā€™s GameĀ was a warning about the dangers of monopolistic practices, an effort to educate and inspire collective action against inequality.


Elizabeth Magieā€™s legacy is a testament to the resilience of creative vision in the face of systemic injustice. Her story reminds us of the need to honour those whose contributions are too often erased, particularly women whose work is overshadowed by the men who profit from it.


While Magie never lived to see her work fully recognised, the rediscovery of her role in Monopolyā€™s history has sparked renewed appreciation for her brilliance. As we pass ā€œGoā€ and collect $200, we would do well to remember the lessons she tried to teachā€”and the price of forgetting them.

Ā 


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