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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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A conversation with Emma Uridge of the Kansas Health Institute.
This week’s conversation is with Emma Uridge, analyst with the Kansas Health Institute. Uridge spent copious hours analyzing state and local laws on data center development to best understand how policymakers are responding to the potential environmental public health impacts of large AI infrastructure, including power and water. The report, which came out this week, also goes in depth into those health impacts. I reached out to her to discuss what she sees as must-watch territory for our readers on this emerging policy arena.
Our conversation was lightly edited for clarity.
What is actually being done on policy when it comes to data centers — beyond moratoria of course?
So first I’d like to just talk about the point of moratoria. It’s helpful to talk about how these policies emerge in the first place. One area where moratoria are helpful is when a data center is proposed but the county has no approach for how they’d like to potentially regulate them. That’s temporary, most of the time. It lets local governments conduct research on the various impacts and also negotiate community benefits, ones that can mitigate any potential negative impacts — like Lancaster Pennsylvania, which instituted a community benefit agreement that maximized the potential benefits of development while mitigating what large data centers can do. That agreement looked at capping municipal water use at 20,000 gallons per day and requiring 100% clean energy. It had financial penalties for non-compliance. The company also committed $20 million to their local economic development and clean energy fund. There are ways to negotiate with developers.
We also see amendments to existing zoning. Data center proposals are increasingly popping up in rural areas, many of which are unzoned, so there’s no way a county can negotiate unless there’s a moratorium in place.
Other policy solutions include different performance standards or requiring on-site renewable energy, like what Jefferson County, Missouri, looked at. Also setback requirements, mandatory noise buffers, ending by-right zoning.
Where are local governments getting ideas for regulating data centers?
A lot of the technical information comes from developers. That can in cases be seen as a biased source of information. I wouldn’t say there’s a dedicated group providing assistance to local governments when a project is proposed — which is a similar story to wind industry development, where we have only a handful of consultants who provide technical advice. It can be really helpful to get a multi-disciplinary approach to hearing information. It can be helpful to have the utility commission, public health folks, those in academia, as well as the developer.
As of right now, especially in rural areas, local governments have a hard task of balancing pushback while getting the most accurate, evidence-based, neutral information to make decisions. That balance can be contentious.
What is the federal government doing on data center policy? How is the Trump administration approaching it?
A few things there. In the early days, the drive was for AI expansion and to be competitive with foreign adversaries. Now due to the amount of public pushback in red and blue localities and a more cautious approach.
I’m not seeing a lot of actual policy movement at this time.
I know the EPA is looking at the chemicals used in cooling data centers because when that water is cycled through the system, some of it is discharged into the water system, so they’re looking at the Toxic Substances and Control Act for monitoring that.
How much of an impact does this minimal federal role have on industry behavior?
Y’know, this isn’t specific to data centers. This is true for all kinds of large-scale development: there’s a need to require some sort of federal monitoring and regulation.
That’s where I see an emerging role for public health. At the federal level, there could be policy movement towards requiring some sort of environmental monitoring at data centers to make sure they’re operating responsibility. Looking at specific water use relative to water availability and what happens when there’s a time of severe, persistent drought. With air quality too — we’ve seen areas where the grid isn’t as reliable so their diesel generators are kicking on more and affecting air quality for residents.
We’re just not seeing all of that right now. We need corporate disclosure.
What do you see as the most important public health impacts from data center development?
It varies by localities. The most discussed obviously is water usage. One thing I’d note about my conversations with folks enthusiastic around emerging tech is, there are still questions that need to be asked about the capacity of localities to support a data center. Like a small town in Kansas may only be using 40% of their water for their utility needs. If a data center came online, how much of that water goes to the data center?
One area underexplored within the public health discipline is energy poverty and energy security. The ability of a household to meet the needs of everything energy provides in our lives. It’s known we have an aging electric grid but we’re not talking enough about large-scale blackouts when the grid is not sufficient to support some of these new data centers.
Plus more of the week’s big development fights.
1. Laramie County, Wyoming — Meta is fighting the fine it received in the Cheyenne data center water pollution controversy, and the conflict between the tech giant and the city’s small board of public utilities is continuing to spill out into the public.
2. Niagara County, New York — This county just rejected a solar project’s highway work permits in a show of retaliation against the state’s Office of Renewable Energy Siting.
3. Barron County, Wisconsin — The anti-solar protest is the new campaign stop in deep red Wisconsin.
4. Chesapeake, Virginia — A large battery storage project on the Virginia coastline is on the rocks amidst rampant local opposition.
5. Lewis County, West Virginia — West Virginia is now a key battleground in the fight over transmission, as a line spanning all of West Virginia and Maryland — and cutting through Data Center Alley in Virginia — causes compounding consternation.
The local government of Boulder City, Nevada had previously rejected a proposal for the computing facility, which would draw power from the existing electricity supply.
The U.S. government for the first time approved a data center on federal lands. What the Trump administration is pitching as a demonstration of bureaucratic speed and ambition in the era of artificial intelligence, however, is turning into the same sort of mysterious backroom deal that’s upsetting other communities.
On Monday, the Bureau of Land Management announced that it would allow a large AI data center to be built on a plot of federal land technically within the limits of Boulder City, Nevada. The approval was initially granted as a right-of-way in 2023 for the second phase of a solar project known as Townsite Solar, to be built by a joint venture between Skylar Opportunities LLC, a subsidiary of Houston energy trader Bill Perkins’ investment firm, and renewables developer Arevon. (Ironically, Perkins also just launched an ETF to profit from higher electricity demand.)
Earlier this year, the LLC overseeing the project — itself named Townsite Solar 2 — notified the city that it would change tack and instead construct a large data center on the site. There would be no new power generation installed — rather, the facility would hook up directly to an existing substation. This time, the backlash was immediate and fierce, and led Boulder City’s planning commission to reject the data center within city limits.
Quietly, Townsite Solar 2 had prepared a backup plan: The project would shift to federal land that was already approved to use for the second phase of the solar farm. It wasn’t until early July that the Boulder City government and its residents learned that BLM had given Townsite Solar 2 permission to advance the data center without any new public hearings or comment periods. According to BLM, the data center would be essentially like a solar farm, so it wouldn’t require any new review.
“The BLM concluded that the new proposed action — a data center — is essentially the same,” city government attorney Brittany Walker told the Boulder City council at a July 14 public hearing. “This is a departure from previous precedent and procedure as the BLM essentially sweepingly approved a new land use without following processes in federal law.”
Boulder City is now fighting the federal assessment. Walker claimed at the July 14 hearing they weren’t notified ahead of time that Townsite Solar 2 would be so quickly approved and built on this parcel of federal acreage, a form of government-to-government communication often required under federal land use planning statutes.
Mystery continues to swirl around what BLM did here — and how Townsite Solar 2 got the agency to do it.
Nada Culver, who served as No. 2 at BLM under the Biden administration, told me that BLM had veered from the usual course of business in approving this data center. Consulting local governments before a decision is made “sits at the heart” of the Federal Land Management and Policy Act, which is the primary statute governing BLM’s land use decision-making, she said. Both that law and the National Environmental Policy Act are “supposed to involve the government actually looking at environmental impacts and sharing them. so it’s not responsible or arguably even legal for the BLM to say, ‘We aren’t going to look at those impacts or share them with the public,” she added.
Boulder City officials have said this is the first major data center approval on federal lands, to their knowledge. Culver told me she believed that to be true, and hadn’t heard of such a thing happening before. “This isn’t a niche BLM issue, so to try and say this is just another use when we’re all surrounded with this loud discussion at the national level about data centers is particularly stark.”
Patrick Donnelly of the Center for Biological Diversity told me his organization and the Sierra Club, another legacy conservation group, are planning a separate legal challenge, one they say is intended to stop more such swaps from happening. Donnelly noted that at least two more data center projects — both powered by on-site gas — are poised to start the federal permitting process at any moment, according to the BLM’s online materials.
“This is the first one, and it’s going to set the stage for these things on public lands, and we can’t let this happen,” he told me.
The timing of this fight couldn’t be worse for the Trump White House, as officials try to pivot towards a “feel your pain” message ahead of the 2026 midterm elections. On Thursday, utilities and data center developers joined Trump cabinet officials at the Environmental Protection Agency for a joint event promoting the administration’s Ratepayer Protection Pledge, a voluntary set of industry practices geared toward ensuring the cost of AI infrastructure isn’t borne by those living near it.
With the BLM’s decision to advance the data center on federal land, Boulder City will lose an estimated $2.3 million in annual leasing and taxation revenue that it would’ve received if the project were built on city land, according to the Las Vegas Review-Journal. If the project is built on BLM land, Boulder City officials have said they’ll still be forced to front the cost for water and sewage hookup to the facility, as well as road maintenance.
Townsite Solar 2 told me in an unattributed statement that it wants Boulder City “to receive the greatest possible revenue and contribution benefits from the project, regardless of siting on federally-owned or city-owned land.”
“TS2 wants the project to provide meaningful, measurable benefits for Boulder City residents, local businesses, and the broader community. Our goal is to develop a responsible, sustainable project that Boulder City can be proud of and that can serve as a national model.”
The people I talked to for this story were largely flummoxed at BLM’s determination that the data center would be “essentially like” the solar farm that was approved in 2023. “These are two unrelated projects,” Culver told me. “I find it very hard to see how this would not trigger the need for a new analysis or public engagement.”
BLM’s logic made my head hurt, too. Among other things, the agency said “both proposals will use the exact same location, same acreage, and same perimeter,” and “both are proposals for industrial uses that will operationalize cutting-edge technologies that are predominantly electrical and solid state in nature.” The agency also claimed the data center was just like the solar farm because construction would take approximately the same amount of time, and would involve facilities and changes that “are visually geometric and less than 30 feet in height.”
You could describe a data center this way, but you could also describe any other number of things this way: a grocery store, a factory, a rollercoaster.
When I asked BLM for comment, a spokesperson simply sent me back the text used in the press release announcing Townsite Solar 2’s data center approval. A press representative for Townsite Solar 2 declined to provide details about who handled government affairs for the data center project, except to say that it hadn’t hired any federal lobbyists.
Some of Trump’s loudest critics told me they think this deal happened because Arevon, a joint partner described as a key financier in the project’s application with Boulder City, hired lobbyists with The Bernhardt Group, a government relations firm created last year by former Trump Interior Secretary David Bernhardt. Arevon hired the firm around the same time Townsite Solar 2 initiated the process to use the federal land for the data center, according to federal disclosures.
I have a history with Bernhardt. After leaving the Trump administration in 2021, Bernhardt went on to run the Trumpworld think tank America First Policy Institute and released a tell-all book, You Report to Me, that called for the bureaucracy to stand down against — as he put it to me — “the interests of the executive.” (I interviewed him around the time of its publication, after which he gave me an unsolicited copy of the book that I keep at my bedside as a form of dark humor.)
These days Bernhardt’s firm represents oil interests, including energy companies, mining, and large-scale agricultural interests that use lots of water (think: almonds). But it’s also pitching itself to the AI energy commentariat. In May, the former Interior secretary authored an op-ed in The Washington Examiner calling for rapid investment in U.S. artificial intelligence infrastructure. He then took to right-wing TV network Newsmax to promote the column, arguing that people fighting to stop data centers were just trying to “oppose the president’s vision for energy dominance.”
It would be easy to point at these federal disclosures and online comments and claim this bizarre data center land use swap is the work of a familiar Trump-era boogeyan. Except Arevon was effusive to me in saying that is not what happened here. In a statement, the company said that it’s a passive member of the joint venture, holds less than 25% ownership stake, and has “not directly hired consultants or lobbyists for this project.”
I didn’t get a response from Overwatch, a data center engineering and design firm contracted to help with the project. Overwatch does have a director of government affairs, but their hire was announced months after the application would have been submitted to BLM.
This leaves us sleuths to conclude the likeliest reason this happened is also the most obvious one: Trump just wants data centers on federal lands, and this was a way to make that happen. What happens next will have enormous implications for the future of data center development and federal land use in the United States, especially if more companies facing federal permit stonewalling seek to turn their solar farm permits into permission to build AI infrastructure.