Overview

This episode of 99% Invisible traces the surprising history of the American license plate, from Idaho's pioneering 1928 potato-adorned plate to two U.S. Supreme Court cases that pitted individual free speech against state authority. Reporter Daniel Ackerman shows how a simple bureaucratic identifier evolved into a contested ideological battleground, where the question of who gets to speak—and what they get to say—on a half-square-foot piece of metal has landed people in jail, sparked legislative clashes, and forced the highest court in the land to weigh in twice. The episode moves from quirky design history to serious constitutional law, all while maintaining the show's signature curiosity about the unnoticed design decisions that shape everyday life.

1:15The Birth of the Advertising License Plate

In 1928, Idaho license plates were being stolen at an alarming rate. Tourists visiting the state would pull up to motels or parks, spot the plates, and simply unscrew them as souvenirs. The reason for this sudden wave of plate theft was a radical design innovation: Idaho had produced the first advertising license plate in American history. The state's secretary of state realized that the half-square-foot of space on every car represented valuable real estate, and decided to use it to promote the state's most famous product.

The resulting plate featured a single giant potato—described by the reporter as "elongated, goofy looking," and by Idaho historian Rick Just as "almost fecal in nature"—stamped across the plate in brown, with registration numbers printed in green on top of the spud. Below the potato ran the slogan "Idaho Potatoes." The design was not aesthetically successful, but it was historically significant. Idaho historian Rick Just noted that before this, license plates were purely functional: state name, registration number, solid colored background. The potato plate transformed them into miniature billboards.

The idea spread rapidly. By 1940, Arizona had stamped "Grand Canyon State" on its plates. Minnesota followed with "Land of 10,000 Lakes" in 1950. New Mexico actually claimed "Sunshine State" in 1932, before Florida adopted the same slogan in 1949—despite the fact that Florida only averages 237 days of sunshine per year, compared to New Mexico's 310. Wisconsin became "America's Dairyland," Maine "Vacationland." Michigan went through multiple iterations: "Water Wonderland" in 1954, then "Winter Water Wonderland," then "Great Lakes State," and even a proposed but never-produced plate reading "The Michigans, the Almost Islands of the Great Lakes."

8:21The Backlash: When Plates Offend Their Own Citizens

The Idaho potato plate was not universally beloved. In fact, it was widely detested by the very people it was supposed to represent. Residents of northern Idaho, where potatoes are not grown, resented being associated with the state's cash crop. Newspaper editorials called the plate an embarrassment; one headline read "Why Bring That Up?" The state abandoned the design entirely in 1929, returning to plain numbers with no motto, no graphics, and certainly no potatoes.

This pattern of local backlash repeated across the country. Florida had to scrap a plate design after residents complained that a grapefruit with a stem attached looked more like a bomb than a piece of fruit. Massachusetts placed a codfish next to the state name, only to be blamed by fishermen for a poor catch that year—because the fish on the plate was swimming away from the word "Massachusetts," which locals interpreted as a bad omen. These disputes might seem trivial, but they foreshadowed far more serious conflicts to come, as the question of what belongs on a license plate moved from aesthetic preference to constitutional crisis.

10:43Live Free or Die: The Case That Went to the Supreme Court

The fight over license plates escalated dramatically thanks to Meldrim Thompson, a conservative firebrand who served three terms as New Hampshire governor in the 1970s. Thompson was an unorthodox politician who wanted to arm the New Hampshire National Guard with nuclear weapons and who hated Democrats with theatrical intensity. But his defining obsession was the state motto: "Live Free or Die," coined by a Revolutionary War veteran. Thompson believed the license plate was "the best billboard of all" and worked with allies in the state legislature to mandate the motto on every New Hampshire plate in 1971.

This mandate ran headlong into the beliefs of George Maynard, a Jehovah's Witness who had moved to Claremont, New Hampshire in 1972. As a Jehovah's Witness, Maynard believed that God-given life was more precious than freedom—the exact opposite of the state's message. He found the motto offensive and covered it with red tape. This was a violation of state law, and Maynard soon received a ticket while shopping with his wife. Rather than pay the $25 fine, he kept the tape on, accumulated more tickets, and eventually was sentenced to 15 days in jail. When he didn't show up for work, he was fired. His children watched him being taken away.

With help from the American Civil Liberties Union, Maynard sued, claiming the law requiring him to display the motto was unconstitutional. The state court agreed, but Governor Thompson appealed all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court. In November 1976, the Court heard *Wooley v. Maynard*. Maynard's lawyer argued that the government could not hijack private vehicles to force citizens to express a viewpoint they disagreed with. New Hampshire countered that the motto was just a fact of life on the plate, not a personal endorsement. Justice Thurgood Marshall admitted he had never paid attention to the motto before the case.

14:39The Compelled Speech Doctrine

The Supreme Court ruled 6-3 in Maynard's favor, establishing a landmark precedent about compelled speech. Caroline Mala Corbin, a First Amendment scholar at the University of Miami, explained the core principle: the First Amendment protects not only your right to speak, but also your right *not* to speak. The government cannot force you to express an ideological message you disagree with. George Maynard's strip of red tape—his homemade solution—was constitutionally protected.

The decision seemed to settle the matter. If you object to your state's motto, you can cover it up. Your car is not a government billboard on wheels. But the constitutional battle over license plates was far from over, because a new problem was emerging: specialty plates.

17:49Specialty Plates and the Confederate Flag Controversy

Unlike vanity plates, where drivers choose their own letters and numbers, specialty plates feature alternate designs with logos and slogans, usually created in collaboration with nonprofit organizations. Drivers pay extra for these plates, and the proceeds are split between the organization and the state DMV. The reporter's own family has a "Save the Manatees" plate from Florida. These plates are easy money for states, which typically approve them for almost any nonprofit that can demonstrate sufficient interest.

But an open-door policy means you might not like who walks through. In 2011, the Texas Department of Motor Vehicles held a standing-room-only hearing on a proposed specialty plate from the Sons of Confederate Veterans, which would feature the Confederate battle flag. The hearing was anything but routine. Senfronia Thompson, a Black Texas state representative born in 1939, testified about the pain of seeing a symbol that reminded her of a time when she "could not even come on the grounds of the Capitol because I was black." She called the flag "like sticking poop in the face of black people every day."

Jerry Patterson, the Texas Land Commissioner and a member of the Sons of Confederate Veterans, countered with a First Amendment argument: if enough people wanted a plate related to Texas history, the state shouldn't prevent them from having it. "No one has a right to go through life to be unoffended," he said, adding that if someone wanted a Mexican flag plate, he would say "bring it on." After two hours of tense testimony, the DMV board voted unanimously to deny the plate.

21:21Walker v. Texas Division, Sons of Confederate Veterans

The Sons of Confederate Veterans sued, arguing that Texas had violated their free speech rights by singling out their message for rejection. Because Texas had an open-door policy on specialty plates, the state was indeed treating this group differently. The case returned to the U.S. Supreme Court in 2015, and the decision was razor-thin: 5-4 in favor of Texas.

The Court held that specialty license plates are government speech, not private speech. Justice Stephen Breyer's opinion pointed to a legal symmetry with the *Maynard* case: just as a state cannot force an individual to display a message, so individuals cannot force a state to convey a message with which it disagrees. The government's right to speak is also protected by the First Amendment.

Caroline Mala Corbin observed that license plates will always be a contested space because they occupy a unique position: a government-issued document displayed on a private vehicle. It's as if both the government and private individuals are shouting into the same bullhorn. The *Maynard* case protected individuals from being forced to speak; the *Walker* case protected states from being forced to speak. But the underlying tension remains unresolved.

23:45The Ongoing Battle and the Collector's Perspective

The Supreme Court's ruling empowered Texas to keep the Confederate flag off its plates, but it also empowered other states to make the opposite choice. At least six states—South Carolina, Mississippi, Alabama, Louisiana, Georgia, and Tennessee—currently offer state-issued specialty plates bearing the Confederate battle flag. In Tennessee and South Carolina, lawmakers have introduced bills to ban the flag from specialty plates, but neither has received a vote.

Meanwhile, in Idaho, the state's official plate still reads "Famous Potatoes," and historian Rick Just wishes it would change. "I don't think that anybody really thinks it's a bad, evil thing or anything, but, you know, I'm just tired of it," he said.

The episode closes with a look at the subculture of license plate collectors, represented by Stuart Berg of Boston, whose collection once topped 100,000 plates. Berg's collection includes a 1909 Massachusetts plate made of porcelain—number five, registered to a bank president for a three-horsepower Pope Electric car—and First Lady Frances Cleveland's plate. Collectors like Berg see the evolution of plate design as a source of endless fascination. When asked if modern plates have become too busy and complicated, Berg simply pulled out another favorite: the Georgia peach plate. More graphics just means more plates, and more plates means more joy.

Conclusion

This episode matters because it reveals how a mundane object—the license plate—has become a constitutional flashpoint where fundamental questions about speech, identity, and government power collide. The story moves from the absurd (a potato-shaped plate that looked like feces) to the profound (a man who went to jail rather than display a motto he disagreed with) to the unresolved (the ongoing fight over Confederate symbols on state-issued plates). What stays with the listener is the realization that design is never neutral: every choice about what goes on a license plate is a choice about who gets to represent a state, and what values that representation enshrines.

Key takeaways

• Idaho produced the first advertising license plate in 1928, featuring a potato and the slogan "Idaho Potatoes," which sparked a national trend of states using plates as tourism billboards.
• The Idaho potato plate was deeply unpopular with residents, particularly those from northern Idaho where potatoes aren't grown, and was abandoned after one year.
• New Hampshire's "Live Free or Die" motto led to the 1977 Supreme Court case *Wooley v. Maynard*, which established that the government cannot force individuals to display ideological messages they disagree with (compelled speech doctrine).
• George Maynard, a Jehovah's Witness, was jailed for 15 days and lost his job for covering the state motto with red tape before the Supreme Court ruled in his favor.
• The 2015 Supreme Court case *Walker v. Texas Division, Sons of Confederate Veterans* held that specialty license plates are government speech, meaning states can reject designs they disagree with.
• At least six states currently offer specialty plates bearing the Confederate battle flag, and legislative efforts to ban them have stalled.
• License plates occupy a unique constitutional space where both government speech and individual speech rights are in tension, ensuring they will remain an ideological battleground.