Deborah Malewicki, program manager for the Wisconsin Innovation Service Center, affiliated with the University of Wisconsin, says, "Inventors not only want to believe their idea is patentable, they typically believe it's a major breakthrough. Many of these firms just tell inventors what they want to hear."

I decided to see how far some of these companies would go to make a buck. I filled out applications from every invention-development firm I could find. I sent legitimate ideas, but for hooks and tackle already patented. All firms responded with letters of "Congratulations! We reviewed the information sent us and your invention passes our initial screening." Initial screening, they tell me, is based on originality and marketability. Well, we already know fish hooks are marketable, but just how original was my idea?

The letters urged me to send from $200 to $750 for a patent search. Apparently prices vary wildly from company to company for the same basic service.

I decided to go one step farther with one of the firms. Using a product already patented by Gary M. Young of Michigan, something called the Sure-Set Hook, I applied for a patent search and paid the fee. The firm responded, claiming the coast was clear; they had turned up no conflicting patents. Hmmm. Now all we had to do was send them another $2,500 (minimum) for "patent application expenses, legal filings, submissions to industry, and followup work." All this just to get moving in the attempt to patent my brilliantly original though slightly patented idea.

They established deadlines. I was to have my paperwork (the most prominent document being my signed personal check) completed within three weeks. The most I'd have to pay, they told me, was $10,000 to get the Sure-Set Hook patented (again).

Ok, maybe they goofed. Could be an oversight, right? Even the Patent and Trademark Office of the U.S. Department of Commerce occasionally issues a patent on something already patented, right? (Unfortunately, that's right.)

Giving them the benefit of the doubt, I started a second campaign. This time I invented something original. There's nothing on the market quite like it and God willing there never will be. It's a scent product I called Salamander Essence, submitted to some firms, I'm deeply embarrassed to admit, as Hawg Slop.

I filled the application with red flags. The salamanders used to brew the concoction were described as an endangered species. The recipe included "waste solvents" obtained from a local factory. "Which I suspect is why the stuff glows in the dark," I wrote. I included two products already trademarked: Aunt Jemima Pancake Syrup and Vaseline. With a few fish skins, everything goes into a blender and voila. Salamander Essence.

With no preservatives in the recipe, I warned, "Leave it in the sun and it gets nasty, but it still works."

Applications were sent to a dozen firms. They all liked it. (Hey, Mikey!) Each firm congratulated me on my inventive spirit while making a spirited appeal to my pocket book.

We paid one company $200 for a patent search. They responded with an "Opinion of Patentability" from their patent attorney. I was in. In fact, they liked Salamander Essence so much they asked me for $4,950 to file a utility patent application with "no guarantee that a patent will be issued."

No guarantees exist in the invention business, but why ask for so much up front? Maybe they figure anyone stupid enough to come up with Salamander Essence is stupid enough to pay them five grand with the immediate stipulation that he might lose it all with no recourse for reimbursement.

And where would it end? We didn't care to invest the capital to see how far they might lead us down this splendiferous primrose path. All we know is that $5,000 represents a plenty big cut to a company that probably suspects the idea is going nowhere. I mean, if they don't know "Hawg Slop" is going nowhere, would you want them on your team?

Continued - click on page link below.