Barbara Chase Riboud

One hundred and fifty years ago, a black-hulled schooner with shredded sails dropped anchor off Long Island, N.Y. For two months the vessel had been zigzagging northward, seemingly out of control. When a U.S. revenue cutter investigated, it found the ship to be the Amistad, a Portuguese slaver whose crew had been overpowered by mutinous slaves who were trying to sail the vessel back to Africa. The 53 Africans aboard, and two Spaniards who had purchased the Amistad slaves in Cuba and were carrying them to their plantations, were only half alive.

In the grand scheme of things, Sarah Baartman hardly seemed to count for much. Certainly not in the tumultuous events of Western Europe in the early 19th century. An orphaned girl from an obscure South African tribe of hunter-gatherers, she was one of the ordinary millions who pass through the world like grains of sand washed briefly onto a beach by the tide. She was one of "the invisibles of history," says novelist Barbara Chase-Riboud.

When we last saw Tom and Sally, they were back on the farm, entertaining friends, watching their children grow up and slowly, inexorably, going broke. He was, of course, our improvident third President, Thomas Jefferson, settling into uneasy retirement at Monticello, his northern Virginia plantation. And she was the mysterious Sally Hemings, a Monticello slave, with whom, according to some historians, Jefferson had seven children.

An author who had accused DreamWorks SKG of stealing ideas from her book about a slave revolt to make the movie "Amistad" has settled her $10-million claim after concluding "that neither Steven Spielberg nor DreamWorks did anything improper," the studio said in a statement late Monday. The statement provided no further details and did not say whether the agreement included any financial settlement.

In Claudia Eller's "Spielberg Lawsuit Pits Author vs. Auteur" [The Biz, Oct. 24], DreamWorks attorney Bert Fields dares to actually suggest that the author, Barbara Chase-Riboud, an African American who is suing DreamWorks for copyright infringement, should not cause waves because the project is about African Americans and, according to Fields, is based on the work of leading black historians. I don't really know who is legally correct in the copyright question, but for Mr. Fields to bring race into the issue seems completely inappropriate.

If no one can copyright historical events, does that mean that DreamWorks cannot copyright "Amistad" ["Novelist Urges Court to Block Spielberg Film," The Biz, Nov. 18]? DreamWorks attorney Bert Fields' claim that author Barbara Chase-Riboud is suing the studio "only for money" leaves me wondering. When artists write books or make films about historical events, are they supposed to do it solely as a public service? Is it wrong for them to expect to be paid for the laborious research and creative work they do?

An author who had accused DreamWorks SKG of stealing ideas from her book about a slave revolt to make the movie "Amistad" has settled her $10-million claim after concluding "that neither Steven Spielberg nor DreamWorks did anything improper," the studio said in a statement late Monday. The statement provided no further details and did not say whether the agreement included any financial settlement.

Steven Spielberg's "Amistad" will premiere as planned Wednesday, after a federal judge denied an author's request to stop the release of the movie that she claims steals from her historical novel on the 1839 slave ship revolt. U.S. District Judge Audrey Collins said that author Barbara Chase-Riboud "has raised serious questions going to the merits of her copyright infringement claim."

Unearthing what they say is evidence of "deliberate literary piracy," attorneys for an author claiming director Steven Spielberg stole ideas from her historical novel in making his movie "Amistad" filed for a preliminary injunction Monday to block the film's December release. While claims of plagiarism are common in the movie business, it's rare to seek such an injunction and even more unusual and costly to obtain one.

In the grand scheme of things, Sarah Baartman hardly seemed to count for much. Certainly not in the tumultuous events of Western Europe in the early 19th century. An orphaned girl from an obscure South African tribe of hunter-gatherers, she was one of the ordinary millions who pass through the world like grains of sand washed briefly onto a beach by the tide. She was one of "the invisibles of history," says novelist Barbara Chase-Riboud.

Steven Spielberg's "Amistad" will premiere as planned Wednesday, after a federal judge denied an author's request to stop the release of the movie that she claims steals from her historical novel on the 1839 slave ship revolt. U.S. District Judge Audrey Collins said that author Barbara Chase-Riboud "has raised serious questions going to the merits of her copyright infringement claim."

Seeking to turn the tables on the author bringing suit over Steven Spielberg's upcoming holiday movie "Amistad," DreamWorks has suggested in a court filing that writer Barbara Chase-Riboud's novel about the historic slave mutiny cribbed extensive material from an earlier book on the same subject.

If no one can copyright historical events, does that mean that DreamWorks cannot copyright "Amistad" ["Novelist Urges Court to Block Spielberg Film," The Biz, Nov. 18]? DreamWorks attorney Bert Fields' claim that author Barbara Chase-Riboud is suing the studio "only for money" leaves me wondering. When artists write books or make films about historical events, are they supposed to do it solely as a public service? Is it wrong for them to expect to be paid for the laborious research and creative work they do?

Unearthing what they say is evidence of "deliberate literary piracy," attorneys for an author claiming director Steven Spielberg stole ideas from her historical novel in making his movie "Amistad" filed for a preliminary injunction Monday to block the film's December release. While claims of plagiarism are common in the movie business, it's rare to seek such an injunction and even more unusual and costly to obtain one.

In Claudia Eller's "Spielberg Lawsuit Pits Author vs. Auteur" [The Biz, Oct. 24], DreamWorks attorney Bert Fields dares to actually suggest that the author, Barbara Chase-Riboud, an African American who is suing DreamWorks for copyright infringement, should not cause waves because the project is about African Americans and, according to Fields, is based on the work of leading black historians. I don't really know who is legally correct in the copyright question, but for Mr. Fields to bring race into the issue seems completely inappropriate.

When we last saw Tom and Sally, they were back on the farm, entertaining friends, watching their children grow up and slowly, inexorably, going broke. He was, of course, our improvident third President, Thomas Jefferson, settling into uneasy retirement at Monticello, his northern Virginia plantation. And she was the mysterious Sally Hemings, a Monticello slave, with whom, according to some historians, Jefferson had seven children.

Seeking to turn the tables on the author bringing suit over Steven Spielberg's upcoming holiday movie "Amistad," DreamWorks has suggested in a court filing that writer Barbara Chase-Riboud's novel about the historic slave mutiny cribbed extensive material from an earlier book on the same subject.

The Whole Spiel: Author Barbara Chase-Riboud is suing Steven Spielberg for allegedly plagiarizing her novel "Echo of Lions" for his film "Amistad." "Yesterday, she told reporters, 'I hope Spielberg doesn't try to steal my new novel about scientists who clone dinosaurs for an amusement park.' " (Premiere Radio) Birdbrain of Alcatraz: Actor Robert Downey Jr. was sentenced to six months in jail for using drugs while on parole.

One hundred and fifty years ago, a black-hulled schooner with shredded sails dropped anchor off Long Island, N.Y. For two months the vessel had been zigzagging northward, seemingly out of control. When a U.S. revenue cutter investigated, it found the ship to be the Amistad, a Portuguese slaver whose crew had been overpowered by mutinous slaves who were trying to sail the vessel back to Africa. The 53 Africans aboard, and two Spaniards who had purchased the Amistad slaves in Cuba and were carrying them to their plantations, were only half alive.