A guest rant by Dee Nash/Red Dirt Rambling

Writing about gardening isn’t rocket science or even brain surgery, but it isn’t easy either.  It’s not enough anymore to correctly identify a plant by its botanical, cultivar and common name. In the last decade, plant hybridizers and propagators began to patent their new creations with gusto and then trademark them. To say this causes garden writers and editors a lot of headaches is an understatement.

In journalism school, I was taught to write clearly and concisely about my subject. I’m essentially providing information to the reader, but when writing about my great passion, I also want to capture the romance of fauna, flower and vegetable while encouraging other gardeners.

In the past, if I wrote about a modern rose, it was fairly simple. I identified it botanically and by class and then listed the cultivar in single quotes.  Now, with plant patents and trademarks, it takes more than a correct botanical i.d., and don’t get me started on the taxonomists—coleus recently changed to the nearly
unpronounceable Solenostemon scutellarioides which perplexed everyone.  I must also determine if the plant’s name is a cultivar or a trademark (or if they are one and the same). If a cultivar, it should be surrounded by single quotation marks. If a trademark, hybridizers would like an ® or a ™ behind the name depending on where it is within the process. Add to this that editors and writers can’t agree whether the trademark symbol should even be listed, and you’ll begin to understand the complexity.

It’s been my experience editors usually want cultivar names listed, and with some of the newer plants, these are becoming more difficult to find because hybridizers want us to promote their trademark. 

According to one magazine’s guidelines, the crapemyrtle Tightwad Red®, would be Lagerstroemia indica ‘Whit V’ Tightwad Red® (crapemyrtle). If I include all of this information in the article every time I list the plant, even while shortening Lagerstroemia to L., it makes for some clumsy writing.

To be fair, I wondered why patenting and trademarks became de rigueur, so I called Dr. Carl Whitcomb, who is a crapemyrtle breeder, and asked him.

 “A plant doesn’t leave the farm until it is distinctly different from one in the trade, and it takes numerous tests and trials to make sure you’re satisfied this plant is unique and will make enough royalties to justify the expense,” he said.

In the twenty-six years of his business, Dr. Whitcomb grew over half a million plants and yet, as of now, he’s patented only eight. He feels patents and trademarks protect his property rights. If a company wants to grow L. indica ‘Whit II’ Dynamite® for example, it signs a license agreement and pays a royalty fee for each plant sold. Plant patents only last twenty years. So, Dr. Whitcomb also trademarks a name he hopes will resonate with the public. The trademark application requires a unique cultivar name, and Dr. Whitcomb chooses one which is less desirable. As long as he continues to renew the trademark, even when the patent expires, he hopes Dynamite® becomes the standard, and companies will continue to sell the plant as such.

After my talk with Dr. Whitcomb, I understand his reasoning. However, it doesn’t make my job any easier, and sometimes, I think the use of so many names puzzles the public especially when writers make mistakes. How many times have you seen trademark names incorrectly identified with single quotes?

By the way, Dr. Whitcomb wants you know that the common name for L. indica should be written as one word, not as crepe myrtle or crape myrtle because it isn’t a myrtle tree, and the USDA database agrees with him.

Yet, if you search the common name, you’ll find it written as two words almost everywhere.

See what I mean?