This left the channel at a loss, so it continued its case against OSS, and the court ruled that Nine PBS had all the rights to access its data stored with OSS and that the latter should "facilitate its transfer to a new vendor."
In a plot twist that sounds like a poorly-scripted movie, Nine PBS in St. Louis has decided to take legal action against Iron Mountain, an information management corporation, over an alarming issue: access to 50 terabytes of archival data that has seemingly gone MIA. Now, if you’re wondering why this matters, let me enlighten you: this is 70 years’ worth of local television history we’re talking about. That’s enough footage to make a documentary about the rise and fall of local TV mustaches.
So, what exactly happened? Well, it turns out that Nine PBS’ cloud-storage vendor, Open Source Storage (OSS), decided to play the ultimate game of hide-and-seek and abruptly cut off access to the data without so much as a courtesy call. I mean, come on, OSS, at least leave a note saying, “Gone fishing!” or something. Instead, they went defunct, leaving Nine PBS in a bit of a pickle—or perhaps a giant data jam.
The lawsuit was filed in Denver District Court on July 28, and it alleges that Iron Mountain is refusing to hand over the archival materials because they claim OSS technically owns the physical space housing the data. Talk about a classic case of passing the buck! The station’s complaint reads like a soap opera: “Dear Judge, our data is stuck in a limbo of corporate bureaucracy, and we just want our stuff back!”
In a move that must have made them feel like they were living in a courtroom drama, Nine PBS requested temporary relief to prevent Iron Mountain from deleting or modifying their precious materials. And guess what? The judge granted that motion, setting the stage for an upcoming hearing that could either lead to a triumphant data retrieval or a cliffhanger that leaves us all on the edge of our seats.
Leah Freeman, Nine PBS’ VP and CCO, confirmed the lawsuit, expressing a commitment to recovering their archival content. She emphasized the historical importance of this data for St. Louis, which is a nice way of saying, “This isn’t just any old footage; it’s our legacy, and we want it back!”
In a twist of fate that would make any legal drama proud, District Court Judge Eric Elliff ordered Iron Mountain to cooperate with Nine PBS. He ruled that the station is the rightful owner of the materials and is entitled to access them. It’s like a courtroom version of “The Great Escape”—only instead of prisoners, it’s 50 terabytes of archival video footage on the run!
Under the judge’s order, Nine PBS is tasked with finding a third-party vendor (maybe a former OSS employee who just wants to help out) to assist in accessing the data. They have 30 days to make it happen. No pressure, right?
This whole saga serves as a reminder of how fragile our digital lives can be. One day you’re sitting on a treasure trove of local broadcasting history, and the next, it’s locked away because someone else decided to take a permanent vacation. So, here’s to Nine PBS—may they recover their archives and perhaps even produce a documentary about this wild ride. After all, if anyone deserves to tell the story of their own data heist, it’s them.
Stay tuned, folks! This might just be the beginning of a long and winding road to data recovery.
Inspired by: “Nine PBS in St. Louis sues Iron Mountain over blocked access to 50 terabyte of archival data spanni…” (r/mildlyinfuriating)