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An animation historian on Reddy Kilowatt, the cartoon charged with electrifying everything in the early 20th century.

With all the attention paid to electric vehicles and heat pumps, the 2020s might seem like the decade of home electrification — but nothing might ever rival the boom of the original Roaring Twenties. By 1929, 70% of all American homes had access to electricity, double the figure from the beginning of the decade – bringing home electrification from minority to majority.
Home electrification was so big back then, it even had a mascot: Reddy Kilowatt. Invented by a marketer at the Alabama Power Company in 1926, this cheery spokescharacter with a lightning-bolt body and a lightbulb nose was licensed to hundreds of utility companies throughout the greater part of the 20th century to promote electricity – and more specifically investor–owned utilities. Reddy was even used as a tool to link government-owned utilities to socialism or communism in years following World War II.

I first came across Reddy Kilowatt last year when a climate tech peer emailed me an image of him, probably from the 1950s, powering everything from a hot water heater to a record player with the headline “Your all Electric Home.”

For weeks I couldn’t stop thinking about that headline because I kept hearing people in the decarbonization movement say similar things (does Electrify Everything ring a bell?). Itching to learn more of the history of Reddy, I reached out to an expert.
Dr. Kirsten Moana Thompson is a professor at Seattle University who teaches and writes about animation. Her paper, Live Electrically with Reddy Kilowatt, Your Electrical Servant, explores the history of this “phenomenally successful and ubiquitous spokescharacter.”
I chatted with Dr. Moana Thompson over a video call from her office where a framed illustration of Reddy Kilowatt hung behind her. I went into the call thinking about positioning this article, “Is America ready for another Reddy?,” but by the end I learned he may be best left in the 1900s. The following interview was edited for length and clarity.
Mike Munsell
Can you introduce yourself and tell me how you ended up researching Reddy Kilowatt?
Dr. Kirsten Moana Thompson:
I'm a professor and chair of the film and media department at Seattle University, and Reddy Kilowatt was part of my research into animation that has been used in sponsored media — that is media used for non-traditional, non-entertainment purposes to do something else, like sell something, instruct you, persuade you. It forms a chapter in what will be a new book coming out in the next couple of years on animation and advertising. I think Reddy Kilowatt is a great example of how popular it was in the post-war period to use animated spokescharacters to sell products or ideas.
Munsell:
I’m curious: Are animated mascots less prevalent today than back in the post-war period?
Thompson:
My research doesn’t focus on the contemporary era, so I couldn't give you a precise example. But certainly, as late as the ‘70s, animation characters still were extensively used to promote products, not just cereal, and toys, but things like bubble bath and candy and, well into the ‘70s, alcohol as well.
There are lots of reasons for that, because certain types of animation were fairly cheap to produce, were appealing, often comedic, and attention grabbing. They were a great means to sell a product — also great to use for abstract or more complex processes, like, how do you make oil or petrol or gas? How do you convey a concept like capitalism? Animation, as opposed to live action, was often a more successful way to convey or target topics of that nature.
We have to anthropomorphize the things that are too abstract, too conceptual, or too inhuman to make them translatable into something that we can comprehend and relate to. Hence the Geico lizard or the Aflac duck.
Munsell
And that makes sense then for Reddy Kilowatt to advertise electricity back when it was new, right?
Thompson
Yes, it really emerged around the time electrification was in two thirds of American households — by 1930. And electrical utility companies needed to find an appealing way to sell their product and to encourage consumer consumption of things like appliances, which themselves were emerging — things like dishwashers and washing machines and hair dryers and so on. But also rural electrification, and electrification for business purposes and factories, and on farms.
[Reddy Kilowatt] emerged targeting a fairly affluent consumer, by, for example, turning electricity into a servant – an abstract servant that was personalized and anthropomorphized.
But it was also a way of rather cleverly justifying rate increases as well, which occurred a little later, by making Reddy Kilowatt literally a figure that earns wages and was regarded as an employee by many electrical utility companies. So it's a clever way to say to people, hey, everybody deserves a wage and Reddy Kilowatt deserves a wage and prices are going up, so we're going to put his wages up. And that's a fair thing.

Munsell:
The Smithsonian has a huge collection of Reddy Kilowatt material. Did you get to go check that out?
Thompson:
Yes, I did. The archives are extensive. And so you can read all about how [Reddy Kilowatt creator] Ashton Collins promoted the product, and what the kinds of speeches that he gave to many other business companies and electrical utility companies in the 30s and 40s.
But he's part of a wider movement. There are other leading figures like Walt Disney and Walter Lantz, who were animation studio heads. Walter Lantz, of course, ran what he would pick the Walter Lantz studios that produced Woody Woodpecker and Andy Panda, and a number of other popular cartoons of the 40s. And Walt Disney, of course, we're all familiar with. But they all believed that the kinds of skills that animation studios were doing in the 1940s — by making cartoons to train troops to operate machinery or rifles, and by making propaganda to translate the values of the fight for democracy against fascism — they believed that those skills could be applied to the commercial market in the post-war period. And that animation was a key element of visual culture that could translate to a sometimes illiterate population or partially illiterate population.
So Ashton Collins is not alone there. He's part of a broader movement in the film industry and in the animation industry, to understand the unique power of animation to communicate and to sell and persuade.
Munsell
Did you find anything in your research particularly surprising?
Thompson
In addition to extensive print materials in the Smithsonian, you see dozens and dozens of objects that featured Reddy Kilowatt. His image is on everything from stickers to comic books to toys, and other giveaways for kids to little marionettes, and robots, which were used in trade shows and trade fairs. [Author’s note: eBay has an extensive Reddy Kilowatt collection]
It was used in the 1939 World's Fair, for example, to communicate and to encourage the public to interact with Reddy Kilowatt as if it was a real figure. I was quite taken with this – it's really an early form of animatronics. They were using an avatar, a spokescharacter, who was fairly ubiquitous in the American home, on people's electricity bills, and combining it with a large three dimensional object with a record player attached and somebody who operated the speaking, to interact with kids at fairs and to communicate basic ideas. So that was really exciting in a way because it shows how ahead of its time Ashton Collins was at understanding interactivity.
Mike Munsell
I was thinking about copyright and trademark law and the public domain. Reddy Kilowatt was, in his original form, created in 1926. We're coming up on that 100 year mark. Is there a chance he enters the public domain?
Dr. Moana Thompson
I'm not sure about that. Because you can renew copyright. Which of course Disney did repeatedly before it finally had to succumb to the end of copyright. And Reddy is also a trademark as opposed to a copyrighted image. So he has not just appeared in what is public access now, some of his films and TV commercials, but he's also a trademark figure that has a continuing commercial currency. And Ashton Collins was absolutely rigorous at paying attention to trademark law. He sued other companies that had similar characters, like Willie Wired Head.

I suspect that Xcel Energy [who now owns the rights to Reddy Kilowatt] is going to be very strict in policing its trademarks. Because if this product has value as a commodity of nostalgia for a certain generation, or multiple generations, or even if it has a new function in Xcel’s future corporate identity, he's going to have value.
Munsell
I guess your research sort of doesn't get quite into the present day, but for my understanding Reddy Kilowatt is not really used much today. It was used by a utility in Barbados and an Ecuadorian soccer club more recently, but from your understanding do you know why he stopped being used?
Thompson
Well, I'm not sure that he stopped being used. I have seen the return of Reddy Kilowatt as a consumer figure and as a licensed product that appears on T-shirts and stickers. Amazon has been selling quite a lot of Reddy Kilowatt products. So it's possible that Xcel Energy that owns the trademark sees the value of the product for a new market, which is the nostalgic market, where you can sell a cartoon character itself.
Munsell: I do think that with the emergence of heat pumps, and induction stoves, there is a push toward home electrification and moving away from fossil fuels in your home. I wonder if that’s an opportunity for a reemergence of Reddy?
Thompson
Yeah, it could be an opportunity for them to repurpose the trademark.
Munsell
Is there anything else you wanted to add about your research into Reddy?
Thompson
I thought it was interesting, the blend that Reddy Kilowatt had of both the impersonal and the personal. On the one hand, we've mostly been talking about it as this cute cartoony character of appeal and personality. But on the other hand, he represents an abstract concept, which is almost robotic. He was literally a robot as part of his marketing. This concept of the kilowatt as one and a half horsepower was part of this wider discursive emergence in the ‘20s that electricity was both a servant, as an anthropomorphized figure, and an abstraction that is there at the flick of a switch.
And in their marketing, they used imagery that of course would never be used today. The association of kilowatt as both a “coolie” – which was the specific language used – and a slave.
So this kind of racist imagery is interesting because it gets to the roots of this idea of the dehumanized, depersonalized aspects of Reddy Kilowatt – that electricity represented by using this imagery, and they had little pictures of kilowatt, which were described as a slave or a “coolie” to explain that, basically, this was free labor and unlimited labor. So obviously addressed to an implicitly white consumer. [The idea that] racial imagery of course affected all kinds of aspects of American advertising is well known to scholars in this field and often played on imagery of blackness or whiteness, in the case of soap advertising, for example, but Reddy Kilowatt in particular is this machinic identity.
And who knows, maybe that'll come back again in the future, because machines are so much more part of our lives now, as compared to 1926 or the mid century with computers and artificial intelligence.
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The facility will power OpenAI’s 10-gigawatt data center in Pike County, Ohio.
The Trump administration aims to complete its environmental review of what would be the biggest fossil fuel power project in the country in just a few months, Heatmap has learned.
This news follows Monday’s announcement from OpenAI that it intends to lease a new 10-gigawatt data center under development in Pike County, Ohio, financed by a mixture of money from a SoftBank subsidiary and the chip company Nvidia. This AI hyperscale facility — known as the PORTS-Pike project — is expected to draw power from the largest gas power facility ever built in the United States, a 9.2-gigawatt facility sited on federal lands that would be built and owned by the Energy Department.
According to OpenAI, the data center campus will be built and started up in phases, with the first 800 megawatts starting construction this year and operational in 2028. That first phase will rely mostly on existing power infrastructure operated by AEP Ohio. How things progress from there will depend at least in part on the permitting and construction timelines for the new power plant.
Building large infrastructure of any kind on federal land or with significant federal investment typically triggers a review under the National Environmental Policy Act. I’ve been curious to find out what kind of review this particular project was going to get, especially after the administration allowed a NEPA review for a solar project to be repurposed for a data center on federal lands earlier this year.
Turns out some information about the PORTS-Pike permitting process is public. Before OpenAI confirmed its involvement with the site, the Trump administration added the project to the federal FAST-41 permitting dashboard, where it posts regular updates on the timeline for getting federal sign-offs. Per the lone federal notice available about the PORTS-Pike project, it will include “several data center buildings and power plants.” That will require at least two federal greenlights: an Army Corps of Engineers permit and approval from the Fish and Wildlife Service, which is being consulted about potential endangered bats in the project area.
The NEPA permitting work for this historically large data center-plus-fossil fuel power project began on July 10 and will conclude on December 23, the day before Christmas Eve, according to the Trump administration’s estimates. This comes after paperwork to begin the review was submitted to the Army Corps in May, per the federal notice — a total timeline of about seven months.
Those familiar with NEPA and the debate over permitting reform will likely be surprised by the speed of this review. It’s moving fast in part because the project is receiving just an Environmental Assessment, the lesser and smaller type of analysis than the EIS. I do not know why the government decided to take this route because the government’s NEPA review determination is not currently public, but I have asked the Army Corps to explain this move.
I’m not sure exactly how air permitting will fit into this NEPA review, as the Clean Air Act isn’t listed as a review step on the federal dashboard. The Ohio EPA has primary authority over permitting projects like these under the Clean Air Act, and I’ve reached out to them to confirm whether PORTS has submitted a permitting application. The state agency’s permitting database does not have any information on air permitting for the project, though it does include reports from third-party consultants confirming wetlands and protected species warranted reviews from the Army Corps and Fish and Wildlife.
Lastly, these timetables are not sacrosanct. Under the Fiscal Responsibility Act of 2023, agencies are supposed to complete environmental assessments within one year, but nevertheless they regularly fail to meet them. The White House’s Council on Environmental Quality said in a report to Congress last year that from mid-2023 to mid-2025, the Army Corps was the agency that most often missed these statutory NEPA deadlines for environmental assessments.
Still, news of this speedy review for a priority Trump project is sure to excite pro-data center advocates who see expedited construction as an imperative in the global AI arms race. It’s also guaranteed to put a foul taste in the mouths of environmentalists already frustrated by federal revisions to NEPA regulations they say elide analysis of climate impacts.
What’s undebatable in all this is that, as my colleague Robinson Meyer wrote, the PORTS project could ignite a new era of mega-gas plants. This permitting timeline couldn’t be more important for the future of the data center boom — and the nation’s greenhouse gas emissions.
SB Energy, the SoftBank subsidiary behind the data center project, did not provide comment before publication.
A new front opens in the data center wars.
A series of lawsuits filed in federal court asks a big question – are data center moratoria constitutional?
In early August, data center developer DC Blox sued the city of Nashville in federal court to overturn a zoning moratorium stopping them from building a hyperscale facility adjacent to the city zoo. “The Data Center Moratorium, moreover, is a targeted attack against DC BLOX, in violation of federal constitutional protections,” the suit argued, claiming that it defied the corporation’s due process and equal protection rights.
Around the same time, another developer – Wixom Industrial One – filed a federal lawsuit against the city of Wixom, Michigan, to try and “invalidate the city’s illegal police power moratorium” blocking their data center.
These two cases were far from novel or the first of their kind, and they’re now a fresh front in the battle over hyperscale data centers. At least that’s what some who work on these cases say: In April, attorneys with the law firm Vorys published a “client alert” asserting “many moratoria may be vulnerable to statutory, procedural, and constitutional challenges.” The attorneys advised that constitutional arguments against moratoria “may be stronger where a government singles out data centers without a sound factual basis, treats similar land uses differently without a reasonable basis, or adopts a restriction driven more by political pressure than by defensible planning or regulatory objectives.”
Months later, according to court documents, the Vorys attorneys who authored the alert now represent real estate firm Thor Equities in a federal case against the Ohio city of Urbana, arguing the city’s decision to reject their data center project broke “fundamental protections” under the U.S. Constitution. (Vorys and Thor Equities did not respond to requests for comment.)
It’s unclear how many of these kinds of cases have been filed to date. Data on federal court cases is quite opaque. But legal experts and industry attorneys tell me we should expect them to be on the rise as developers seek whatever tools they can find to get projects built.
“Bringing a lawsuit like this is fairly cheap, something they can do at a relatively low cost, and imposes a real cost on local governments to defend themselves,” said Daniel Metzger, director of the Cities Climate Law Initiative at Columbia Law School’s Sabin Center. “The cases out there will be bellwethers. And if successful, there’ll be a lot more of them.”
What developers probably want looks a lot like Hill County, Texas, where an LLC proposing an $80 million data center project was stymied in May by the state’s first countywide moratorium. (It predated Governor Greg Abbott’s temporary freeze of data center development in Texas by three months.) Within a period of only a few weeks, the LLC sued and the county rescinded the pause on approvals. The case was dropped a month later. Local reports state the county had to afterwards pay the corporation $100,000 in legal fees – a drop in the bucket compared to what a drawn-out court battle would have cost the rural county.
Metzger said whether the companies will win these cases is ultimately not the point – their goal is to win a finished data center, not a judicial ruling. By filing expansive litigation in the national court system, a hypothetical developer can exhaust the coffers of a city or county with legal expenses that are chump change compared to would-be billions in private financing for compute infrastructure.
“These lawsuits may deter some local governments from taking steps to oppose data center development, just because of the cost it would impose on them to defend a lawsuit, even if they know they have a strong legal basis for the action they want to take.”
Those I spoke to in private practice about data center developers’ constitutional arguments agreed with Metzger’s assessment that it’s too early to tell whether the companies will win. Generally, they said, a city or county will win this kind of case if it demonstrates a rational basis for its decision-making and courts typically want to defer to governmental autonomy. The onus will be on the developers to prove a moratorium was meritless – that’s the due process challenge – or unfairly targeted their industry in a way other sectors don’t face, which is the basis of the equal protection claim.
“What they’re saying is in essence that these actions the municipality is taking are arbitrary and capricious, which is one of the sort of catch-all standards,” Thomas Allen, a partner at K&L Gates, told me. “They say the laws lack a rational basis. And then they make equal protection claims, saying data centers are being singled out because of political concerns as opposed to actual things relevant to the legislature’s directive. They’re not basing their decisions on the underlying merits of the project but reacting to political pressure.”
“It’s a reliance question and it’s about the treatment of their projects,” added Laura Morton, an attorney with Ashurst Perkins Coie. “It’s always been important to talk about and engage with communities where your infrastructure is planned. Here, I think this is the developers going in, maybe having conversations, and then suddenly they’re getting a reversal after already receiving these approvals and making investments based off of what the conversations and rules were.”
The likelihood of these constitutional challenges reaching higher courts anytime soon is quite low. It’ll be a long time before we see one of these cases reach a verdict, let alone some kind of appeals process come to fruition. Nevertheless, the new legal ambiguity around these local restrictions is an important new facet of the data center wars, including for developers.
“Companies want to act within the law to get [things] done, so whatever tactics they can do to help get the project over the line that are legal and ethical, they may try those,” Allen told me. “And if that includes the pressure of a lawsuit, that’s a judgment they’ll have to make.”
And more on this week’s conflicts around project development.
1. Montgomery County, Pennsylvania – We reached a new normal in the data center backlash, and it all seems to have started in King of Prussia.
2. Columbia County, Wisconsin – The gubernatorial race in this state is transforming local fights over wind projects into must-watch popcorn fodder for anyone obsessed with the state of the energy transition, or national politics for that matter.
3. Shelby County, Alabama – One quick update on the intervention of John Rich, the country star turned Trump’s “special envoy for American landowners,” in an Alabama Power transmission project: it’s getting a lot more elected officials involved.
4. New Jersey – We try to conclude every Hotspots on a positive note. So this week’s silver lining comes to you from the Garden State, where state regulators have approved more than a dozen agrivoltaics projects.