The Real Story Behind Monopoly and Lizzie Magie

Portrait of Lizzie Magie, inventor of The Landlord’s Game, the precursor to Monopoly
Black-and-white portrait of Lizzie Magie, inventor of The Landlord’s Game, the precursor to Monopoly
Lizzie Magie, the mind behind The Landlord’s Game, which laid the foundation for what became Monopoly. Public domain image via Wikimedia Commons.

Lizzie Magie’s story is one that’s slipped through the cracks of popular knowledge. Though she’s the original creator behind Monopoly, a board game that’s achieved iconic status, her part in its history is largely overlooked. To add insult to injury, she gained minimal recognition, and even less monetary reward.

The Game Lizzie Actually Invented

Back in 1904, Lizzie Magie put together “The Landlord’s Game,” a board game that wasn’t just about rolling dice and passing go. She built it as a kind of lesson, a way to show how owning property can really shape the economy. She was deep into this idea called Georgism, which is all about how land taxes could make things fairer. Really, she wanted people to see how different ways of sharing wealth change how society works.

What made Magie’s game so remarkable was this clever trick: she designed it with two sets of rules. One showed you what happens when a small group hoards all the wealth. The other? It painted a picture where everyone got a piece of the pie when the economy did well. It was her way of getting people to think about fairness and how money gets spread around, way before those kinds of talks were common.

Magie wasn’t just throwing together a fun way to kill an afternoon. She actually went and got a patent for “The Landlord’s Game,” because she saw it as a way to explain how capitalism and owning land really worked. What she couldn’t have known was that her idea would get a makeover, a whole new name, and become this huge thing, a board game that families would play—and argue over—for years to come.

Color image of the 1906 edition of The Landlord’s Game board, designed by Lizzie Magie to teach economic principles.
A 1906 edition of The Landlord’s Game, designed by Lizzie Magie to illustrate the economic impact of land ownership.
Image courtesy of T. Forsyth, via Wikimedia Commons.

Then Came Charles Darrow…

Fast forward a few decades, right into the teeth of the Great Depression. That’s when Charles Darrow, a guy who’d lost his job selling heating, stumbled upon a take on Magie’s “Landlord’s Game.” He did some tinkering, slapped a new name on it—Monopoly—and, well, he claimed it as his own.

Swiping the Credit (and Dodging the Bill)

So, in 1935, Darrow takes his version of the game to Parker Brothers. They’re sold, thinking they’ve found a goldmine. They buy it up, thinking it’s all his, and start cranking out copies like crazy. Monopoly blows up, and Darrow? Well, he ends up swimming in money.

All the while, Parker Brothers stumbled upon Magie’s original patent. To keep things simple, they cut her a check for a mere $500, buying the rights. That’s all she saw for inventing what turned into a worldwide sensation. Then, they pushed this story, this idea that Darrow was the only one behind the game—a story that stuck around for years.

The difference couldn’t have been more glaring. Darrow walked away a rich man, while Magie’s part in the whole thing just…vanished. Her name almost disappeared, barely a mention in the story of how board games came to be. And that made-up story about Darrow? It got told and retold, until everyone just assumed it was the truth.

It Wasn’t Just Lizzie — A Familiar Pattern

Magie’s experience is not an isolated incident. Instead, it reveals a recurring issue: the systematic overlooking of women’s innovative work. Even in our modern times, the data is clear. Worldwide, women represent a mere fraction, less than 17 percent, of those listed as inventors on international patents.

What accounts for this ongoing problem? You have instances of outright theft, as was the case with Magie. But then you also have the more common occurrence of women’s ideas being ignored, dismissed, or handed off to the men around them. And that tired excuse, “she was just helping,” keeps being used to downplay their actual role.

This kind of thing isn’t just happening in one area. It’s a recurring theme across different fields. Take, for instance, Rosalind Franklin’s crucial discoveries about DNA, or Hedy Lamarr’s pioneering work in wireless technology. In so many cases, women’s accomplishments are brushed aside, and the men they worked with end up getting all the credit, the recognition, and the financial rewards.

Next Time You Play, Remember Lizzie

The next time you pass GO and collect $200, think of Lizzie Magie. Her game was designed to spark conversations about fairness and economic systems. It’s ironic that its own history reflects the very injustice she sought to expose.

The good news? It’s not too late to set the record straight. By sharing Magie’s story, we begin to shift the narrative—one conversation, one article, one “actually, that’s not how it happened” at a time. And that’s a roll of the dice worth taking.