Dam! Buc-ee's wants the Beaver

I've never met a beaver who cared much about trademarks.

Beavers are generally busy building dams, chewing wood and minding their own business. They don't spend a lot of time worrying about intellectual property law.

Big corporations, however, are a different story.

That brings us to the legal showdown involving Buc-ee's, the Texas travel center giant known for its enormous convenience stores, pristine restrooms, beef jerky and smiling cartoon beaver.

The company is suing Beaver's Mini Mart in Beavercreek, alleging trademark infringement over the use of a beaver logo. Lawyers will debate the size of the teeth, the shape of the face, and whether consumers might somehow confuse the two businesses.

A federal judge will eventually sort through the legal arguments. Here in Ohio, many people are asking a simpler question:

How exactly does a Texas convenience store chain get to claim ownership of a beaver in Beavercreek?

The irony practically writes itself.

If this dispute had happened in Centerville over a centipede, or in Lebanon over a cedar tree, maybe people wouldn't notice. But we're talking about Beavercreek. The city literally has "beaver" in the name.

At some point, common sense deserves a seat at the table.

Now, before anyone accuses me of ignoring the law, let me be clear: trademarks matter. Businesses invest time and money building their brands. They should be protected from counterfeiters and bad actors trying to profit from someone else's reputation.

Nobody should be allowed to slap golden arches on a burger stand and pretend to be McDonald's. Remember the movie Coming to America? McDonald's had the Golden Arches. McDowell's had the Golden Arcs. The joke worked because everyone knew one business was borrowing heavily from the other. That's exactly the kind of confusion trademark law is meant to address. 

There is a difference between protecting a trademark and acting as though every smiling cartoon beaver in North America belongs to one corporation.

That's where many Ohioans begin to lose patience.

Too often, large corporations know they don't have to win immediately to get their way. They simply have to make litigation expensive enough that a small business owner decides it's easier to surrender than fight.

When one side arrives with a fleet of attorneys and the other side is trying to keep the lights on and stock the cooler, the scales aren't exactly balanced.

Conservatives have long been skeptical of concentrated power. Usually, we think about the government. But power deserves scrutiny wherever it exists. Whether it comes from Washington regulators or corporate legal departments, ordinary people shouldn't feel steamrolled by institutions with vastly greater resources.

That's why so many people instinctively sympathize with the local business.

Main Street businesses are still the backbone of communities like Beavercreek. They sponsor youth sports teams, donate gift cards for charity auctions, and  support police officers, firefighters, veterans and local causes. They know their customers by name.

Small businesses are part of the community, not just another location on a corporate map.

Meanwhile, Buc-ee's recently arrived in Huber Heights with one of the largest convenience stores many of us have ever seen. The place is so big that first-time visitors sometimes need a navigation plan just to find the coffee.

Buckeyes welcomed the Buc-ee's. Many still do. But there's a difference between opening a store in Ohio and claiming exclusive rights to every cartoon beaver within driving distance.

The company may have a legal argument. The Federal courts will decide that.

From a public relations standpoint, this lawsuit feels a little like a grizzly bear picking a fight with a squirrel and then expecting applause.

Americans are increasingly tired of seeing local institutions pushed around by larger and more powerful interests. They want communities to retain their identity and want small businesses to have a fair chance. They don't particularly enjoy watching hometown establishments become targets of expensive legal battles.

In the end, a judge will determine who owns the trademark rights, but nobody needs a court order to know who owns the spirit of Beavercreek.

Doubt I'm taking a leap, but I suspect the residents of Beavercreek don't believe it belongs to a cartoon beaver from Texas.

Rob Scott is the Kettering Clerk of Court, an attorney and a small-business owner. Contact him at rob@robscott.us.