Winnie-the-Pooh turns 100 — and Britain still can't get its bear back from New York

On October 14, 1926, A.A. Milne published a slim collection of children's stories about a stuffed bear and a little boy in an English wood. One hundred years later, Britain is marking the occasion with commemorative stamps, LEGO sets, anniversary editions, and a newly authorized sequel — and renewing a campaign that has so far defeated two presidents, several prime ministers, and a queen to bring the actual bear home.

Purchased at Harrods in August 1921 as a first-birthday present for Christopher Robin Milne, the original Winnie-the-Pooh — a 20-inch Farnell teddy bear — now occupies a glass case at the New York Public Library, where it stands alongside Piglet, Eeyore, Tigger, and Kanga. He has been there since the late 1980s. The library, which says the toys attract tens of thousands of visitors a year, has no intention of letting them go, even temporarily.

The centenary has sharpened British feelings about the arrangement. Author and broadcaster Gyles Brandreth, a longtime friend of the late Christopher Robin Milne and the emissary Queen Camilla dispatched to New York two years ago to negotiate an anniversary stay at Buckingham Palace, came back empty-handed.

It would be wonderful if it happens, but I can't see it happening anytime soon. The ball is now really in the court of the New York Public Library.— Gyles Brandreth, author and royal emissary

Earlier this year, the library received a royal visit from Camilla herself. Buckingham Palace would say only that she brought together the elderly Kanga and a replica of Roo — a Very Small member of the collection whose original has been lost — and offered no comment on what she and library officials may have discussed.

How the bears ended up in New York is not a story of theft or auction-house intrigue. After the Second World War, American publishers asked Milne — who by then was desperate to be known for something other than children's books, having written some 50 plays, novels, and other adult works — whether they could borrow the toys for a publicity tour. He agreed, with the adult Christopher's blessing, and sent them over in 1947. Four decades on, the publisher transferred ownership to the library. The toys are now displayed in a 'Treasures' gallery alongside Charles Dickens' desk, a first-edition Plato, and a Shakespeare First Folio.

The repatriation campaign has been running, with varying degrees of official seriousness, for nearly three decades. In 1998, Labour MP Gwyneth Dunwoody raised the matter in the House of Commons, comparing the bears' situation to the Elgin Marbles.

Just like the Greeks want their Elgin Marbles back, so we want our Winnie-the-Pooh back, along with all his splendid friends.— Gwyneth Dunwoody, Labour MP

Dunwoody's motion prompted Prime Minister Tony Blair, then in Washington for talks with President Bill Clinton, to address the question on Good Morning America. He said it would be low on the agenda. The government's position, as stated by Blair's spokesperson, was that the aging toys would be well looked after by the Americans. Clinton reportedly said losing them would be 'unbearable.' Asked about the matter, State Department spokesperson James Rubin said that because the toys were privately owned, the U.S. would not weigh in, while also denying he would ever 'pooh-pooh an issue of this significance.' The New York Post ran the headline: 'GET STUFFED!'

Then-Mayor Rudy Giuliani showed up at the library with reporters and white-gloved hands to make the case for New York.

Winnie-the-Pooh is an example of the very best in immigration. Hey Winnie, you got a green card?— Rudy Giuliani, then-Mayor of New York City

Bronx-born Democratic Rep. Nita M. Lowey introduced a congressional resolution to keep the toys in the United States. Nothing moved.

Years later, Prime Minister David Cameron raised the matter with President Barack Obama. According to Brandreth's new biography of Milne, Somewhere, a Boy and a Bear, an aide phoned the library's then-president, Anthony Marx, from the Oval Office to ask whether the two leaders could announce the toys were going home at their joint press conference.

You don't understand. I'm speaking on behalf of the president of the United States.— White House aide, as recounted by Gyles Brandreth

You don't understand. I am the president of the New York Public Library — and the answer is no.— Anthony Marx, then-president of the New York Public Library, as recounted by Gyles Brandreth

According to Brandreth, that rejection led Pooh's British supporters to adopt a more diplomatic strategy. The king and queen have offered the toys a room at Buckingham Palace or Windsor Castle. The library has not accepted.

While the diplomatic stalemate continues, Britain is celebrating the centenary in other ways. Ashdown Forest in East Sussex — the real landscape that inspired the Hundred Acre Wood — is a focal point. The footbridge spanning a River Medway tributary known as Mill Brook, where Christopher Robin and his father played Poohsticks for the first time, draws visitors from around the world. Brandreth was there recently with Queen Camilla and a group of children. Brandreth recounted that Camilla had arrived with sticks gathered from her Wiltshire home and from the gardens of Buckingham Palace, played three rounds, read the current, shifted her stance, and took the third game.

The stories themselves have sold more than 50 million copies in over 70 languages — some estimates put the figure closer to 100 million when reprints and translations are included. Disney acquired the rights in the 1960s, making the red-shirted bear one of its most lucrative merchandising properties. The books' hold on readers, Brandreth argues, comes from something simpler than nostalgia.

The Hundred Acre Wood — the world that Winnie-the-Pooh lives in — is a world of innocence, generosity and friendliness. It's a world of laughter. It's a world without danger. When you think about how horrible the real world is at times, it's wonderful to know there is a place of enchantment where a boy and a bear will always be playing; where you can feel safe and happy. Winnie-the-Pooh is your passport to happiness.— Gyles Brandreth, author

The boy at the centre of the stories did not share that feeling in later life. Christopher Robin Milne, who died in 1996 at 75, grew to resent his childhood fame. He was teased at boarding school for being the boy in the storybooks, and the association followed him into the Army and into job interviews. Christopher Robin charged that his father had built his own name on the shoulders of a small boy, and the relationship between the two deteriorated near the end of A.A. Milne's life — a falling-out described by Brandreth, who was acquainted with Christopher Robin from the 1980s until his death.

For now, Pooh, Piglet, Eeyore, Tigger, and Kanga remain on Fifth Avenue — a long way, as Pooh partisans note, from the Hundred Acre Wood.

Why it matters — The centenary standoff between Britain and the New York Public Library over five stuffed toys has become a proxy for larger questions about cultural ownership, national identity, and who gets to decide where beloved objects belong.

Reported by washingtonpost.com, inquirer.com, israelhayom.com, express.co.uk