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Last October Ralph Willard,
president and CEO of The Hinckley Company, issued a statement saying the
company would “address the problem of the growing number of copycat
boats.” Referring to the Hinckley Picnic Boat and Talaria 40 and
44, Willard contended that the proliferation of lookalike versions “threatens
to erode the investment our owners have made in buying a Hinckley, as
well as the significant investment the company has made in research and
development, new production facilities, and marketing.”
If you read this magazine,
attend any major boat show, or only just stroll a dock or two, you’re
familiar with the Hinckley powerboat line. It shares one of the most recognizable,
admired, and imitated profiles in pleasureboating. The progenitor, the
Picnic Boat, was a breakthrough when introduced in 1994, but like all
breakthroughs, it didn’t spring from a vacuum. Many elements—the
long cockpit and relatively short house, flush deck, low aft freeboard,
and high plumb bow—had been seen for years in various craft built
by small Downeast yards such as Sim Davis, Royal Lowell, and Vinny Cavanaugh.
But the Picnic Boat
was different. To those elements it added new levels of comfort, finish,
construction, and technology. It was elegantly appointed and flawlessly
finished and had a proprietary waterjet drive system that let it maneuver
unlike any pleasureboat at the time, save a few megayachts. Just as remarkable
was Hinckley’s marketing acumen. It had identified an elite customer
base for the line and, capitalizing on the golden Hinckley name, tagged
the Picnic Boat with a price that reserved it for the fortunate few.
Success came quickly,
and so did boats that shared in varying degrees the Picnic Boat’s
styling cues. First came a propeller-driven 38-footer, then a 41-foot
express. Another classic-style 38-footer debuted at the Fort Lauderdale
International Boat Show, and although it doesn’t look much like
a Hinckley, it does have an integrated control system for its waterjets
and bow thruster. And there were others—some virtual knock-offs—until
the folks at Hinckley finally felt that the identity of their line was
being compromised, if not robbed, and decided they had to take steps to
stop it.
The legal basis for
Hinckley’s claim is an interesting concept called “trade dress,”
which can be briefly defined as a product’s total commercial image.
Trade dress is violated when a new product looks so like the original,
a consumer can’t tell which is which. Say you invent a new, dark,
effervescent soft drink that tastes like Coca-Cola and call it Copy-Cola.
No problem. Now say you package Copy-Cola in hourglass-shape bottles that
look just like Coke’s. The courts would say that’s a violation
of trade dress if they felt Joe Consumer might grab a bottle of your stuff
thinking it was a Coke. Trade dress has been upheld in cases involving
the layout of a publication, the design of outdoor furniture, and perhaps
most germane to this case, the appearance of the Ferrari Testarossa and
Daytona.
Hinckley isn’t
contending that builders are replicating its boats, just copying enough
key elements to cloud their identity. The builders in question argue that
similarities may indeed exist, but that this is hardly unique in the boating
industry and that their boats are demonstrably different. One even sent
me a profile of his boat overlaid on a profile of a Hinckley to prove
it.
Courts and lawyers will
eventually decide whether Hinckley prevails, but if it does, there could
be some serious implications in an industry where frankly an awful lot
of boats look an awful lot alike and always have. It can take a pretty
keen eye to discern one convertible, midcabin cruiser, or center console
from another. If Hinckley is successful, it might literally change the
face of boating.
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