Calendar Girl aside, there was a general lack of films for the American audience. Film creation was not keeping up with the rapidity with which the top 40 music chart evolved. Frequently, the films inside the Scopitone were for songs that were outdated. Those films were supplemented with French films featuring musicians unknown in the United States and in a language most Americans did not understand. Tel-A-Sign hoped to remedy this film shortage by hiring a company called Harman Enterprises, a production company partially owned by singer/actor Debbie Reynolds, who was the female lead in Singing in the Rain. Harman Enterprises agreed to produce 48 Scopitone films per year, including films featuring Debbie Reynolds.

Their partnership may have been successful if Tel-A-Sign's skeletons were never dragged out of the closet. While Tel-A-Sign was enjoying windfall profits and Haman Enterprises was ramping up production, the Scopitone’s association with organized crime began to catch up with it. In 1964 the Justice Department, then helmed by Robert Kennedy, began looking into the original deal brokered between the business consortium and Tel-A-Sign. Two years later, in 1966, when the Justice Department felt it was getting close to handing out indictments, someone leaked the investigation to the Wall Street Journal. They printed an article about the investigation, which sent the Tel-A-Sign stock into a tailspin. In a Faustian bargain, the devil always comes to collect.

On May 4th, smack in the middle of the fallout from the Wall Street Journal article, Tel-A-Sign's CEO resigned. In the press release, the former CEO emphatically denied the article had anything to do with the decision. Around the same time, Tel-A-Sign was beginning to have money problems. They had given their trusted West Coast Scopitone distributor a substantial number of Scopitones on credit and that trusted distributor failed to pay them back. Things just spiraled downward from there. Soon, Tel-A-Sign stopped filing quarterly reports with the Securities and Exchange Commission, who responded by de-listing Tel-A-Sign stock from all stock exchanges. Then on August 9th, 1967 Tel-A-Sign’s cash-flow problems forced them to file for chapter 11 bankruptcy (that's the restructuring bankruptcy).

Soon production of new Scopitone films came to a halt. The machines themselves began to be sold in classified sections of newspapers for well under the list price of $3,500. One investor decided to purchase the Scopitone distribution rights and film catalog in the restructuring process, but nothing ever came of it. Debbie Reynolds's company, Harman Enterprises, lost everything they invested into making films. According to Scopitone collector Bob Orlowsky, many people have tried to interview Debbie Reynolds about her failed investment, but she has no interest in discussing it.

For all the media attention and damage to Tel-A-Sign’s reputation the Justice Department caused, they ended up dropping their case. The only person to receive a conviction was Genovese associate Vincent Alo (Jimmy Blue Eyes) for giving false and evasive answers under oath. Finally, Tel-A-Sign, mired in lawsuits, fizzled out and the public’s interest in music videos died with it. The music video as a form of entertainment wouldn't catch on in the United States until the success of MTV over a decade later. You can hear that story on episode 3 of the Between the Liner Notes podcast entitled "I Want My MTV."

Whether it was the organized crime allegations or extending a line of credit to the wrong person that ultimately ended the Scopitone’s short reign is not completely agreed upon. However, it is known that when Tel-A-Sign folded in 1969, the Scopitone went from being a promising new technology to a technological dinosaur fit for ownership only by nostalgic collectors...and Jack White. His Scopitone sits in Nashville’s Third Man Records like a museum piece reminding people of a past they barely remember or were never aware existed. When I was there, most of the patrons walked by the Scopitone, not knowing what it was, and not really all that curious. They were much more intrigued by the vintage wax disc recorder.

I, however, am intrigued by technological dinosaurs, so before I left, I bought a token from the girl at the checkout counter and plunked it into the Scopitone. I selected a video (Jack White loaded the machine with contemporary videos released by his record label) and watched. Having checked off one more item on my bucket list, I finished my venti iced coffee and wandered into the Nashville streets, back towards the hurly-burly of Broadway with a smile on my face.

By Matthew Billy (Host of the BetweenTheLinerNotes.com podcast)