In the context of television, the term “TV company” can point in two distinct directions—on one hand, manufacturers that design and build television sets; on the other, broadcasters that create and transmit programming. Both have played defining roles in the evolution of the medium.
American companies set global standards in both areas through much of the 20th century. RCA pioneered electronic broadcasting with the launch of NBC. Zenith developed the first remote control and engineered advances in color transmission. CBS, ABC, and PBS shaped national culture with their programming. Yet today, very few televisions are built on U.S. soil, and even fewer networks fully control their own destiny in a market now dominated by streaming platforms and multinational corporations.
So what happened—and who held the title of the “last” American TV company? Understanding the answer reveals not just a shift in manufacturing, but a broader story about innovation, outsourcing, and how global media power has realigned in the digital age.
In the post-war boom of the 1950s, American television manufacturing entered its formative era. RCA (Radio Corporation of America) and Zenith emerged as dominant forces, setting the standard for consumer electronics at home and across global markets.
RCA, founded in 1919, combined its engineering muscle with vast resources, producing the first all-electronic television in 1939 and launching color television by 1954. Meanwhile, Zenith, established in 1918 in Chicago, carved out a competitive space by pushing innovations like remote controls (the first wireless "Space Command" in 1956) and early stereo sound systems. These companies didn’t just assemble TVs—they engineered them from the ground up, controlling design, components, and branding from plant to living room.
American firms not only led the domestic market but actively influenced global television infrastructure. By the late 1960s, U.S. manufacturers dominated TV exports, supplying tech and systems that shaped broadcast standards in Europe, Latin America, and parts of Asia. RCA's international licensing agreements allowed foreign manufacturers to build devices based on American patents, while Zenith's modular chassis designs were reverse-engineered globally.
At their peak, these companies turned cities like Camden, NJ and Chicago, IL into industrial hubs powered by high-precision electronics assembly lines. American-engineered picture tubes, casings, and tuners became global benchmarks well before Japanese firms began expanding aggressively into consumer TV sectors.
Between 1950 and 1980, domestic television production increased more than tenfold. According to U.S. Census Bureau reports, television manufacturing volume climbed from approximately 7 million units annually in 1950 to over 35 million sets per year by 1980. Color TV adoption, fueled by FCC standardization in the 1950s and major sporting events broadcast in color by the late ’60s, played a significant role.
The structure of American TV manufacturing during this period relied on vertical integration. RCA, for example, manufactured everything from cathode-ray tubes to cabinets. Zenith invested heavily in in-house research and domestic labor, rejecting offshore outsourcing until well into the 1980s. Factories in Indiana, Illinois, and Pennsylvania employed thousands in complex, high-skill electronics jobs. These plants not only assembled units but also housed laboratories developing tuner technology, integrated circuits, and improved deflection systems.
The federal government provided structural support to the TV manufacturing industry through defense contracts and regulatory frameworks. During the Cold War, RCA and Zenith secured military contracts to produce radar and communication devices, allowing R&D departments to cross-pollinate innovations between defense and consumer markets. RCA's Sarnoff Labs in New Jersey developed military communication systems alongside color TV patents that later became commercial cornerstones.
At the policy level, the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) created standardized broadcasting protocols (like NTSC for color TV in 1953), favoring domestic manufacturers already aligned with these guidelines. Import tariffs on foreign electronics offered limited protection into the late 1970s, though these would be scaled back by trade agreements in the following decades.
In tandem, private-public collaboration accelerated tech development while establishing American-made televisions as a dominant fixture in mid-century homes. By the dawn of the 1980s, however, this golden age would begin to fracture under global cost pressures and evolving trade policy.
In the 1960s and 1970s, American television manufacturers owned the domestic market. Brands like RCA, Zenith, and Magnavox produced millions of sets each year for American households. However, by the late 1970s, Japanese electronics companies began eroding that dominance with a simple advantage—better technology at a more competitive price.
In 1968, Sony introduced the Trinitron—an innovation in color picture tube technology that offered superior brightness and color reproduction. American firms failed to match this leap in quality. By the 1980s, Japanese TV manufacturers, including Panasonic and Toshiba, had not only improved user experience but also dramatically outpaced U.S. firms in production efficiency. South Korean companies followed. Samsung and LG entered the market aggressively in the late 1980s, offering high-performance sets at even lower prices, quickly winning over global consumers.
By the mid-1980s, American television companies began relocating production overseas. Labor costs in East Asia were significantly lower. Manufacturing television sets domestically became economically unsustainable for U.S. firms trying to compete with foreign prices. The outsourcing trend escalated during the 1990s when global supply chains enabled even complex electronics production to move offshore without sacrificing quality.
This shift decimated American factories. Employment in the U.S. electronics manufacturing sector fell sharply: in 1980, the U.S. had over 380,000 workers in this sector; by 2000, the number had dropped below 198,000, according to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics. Once-symbolic factories in Illinois, Ohio, and New Jersey closed permanently, leaving behind hollowed-out industrial towns and a legacy of disillusionment.
The downfall of RCA marked a turning point. Founded in 1919, RCA not only led in manufacturing but also in innovation—it introduced the first electronic television in 1939. Yet by 1986, General Electric absorbed RCA, selling off its consumer electronics division soon after, including its television arm. The RCA brand continues today, but only as a label licensed by French company Technicolor SA to Chinese manufacturers.
Zenith held on longer but also fell. Headquartered in Chicago and long considered the most independent of the American television companies, Zenith resisted outsourcing. That resistance cost them. Mounting debt and declining market share forced Zenith to sell controlling interest to South Korea’s LG in 1995. By 1999, LG owned the company outright. Zenith now functions as a research subsidiary of LG Electronics, its name a ghost of American manufacturing pride.
Today, brands like Vizio and Element may appear to carry the American TV industry forward—but appearances deceive. Vizio, based in Irvine, California, designs products domestically but outsources all manufacturing to factories in China and Mexico. Market share proves its commercial relevance—in 2023, Vizio held roughly 11.1% of the U.S. smart TV market according to Statista—but that alone doesn’t restore domestic manufacturing legacy.
Element Electronics, headquartered in South Carolina, advertises itself as "Made in America." The claim, however, rests on minimal domestic assembly. Most of the components still arrive pre-fabricated from Asia. Less than 10% of their televisions' value is created in the United States, based on industry cost structure estimates. That figure doesn’t equate to an American manufacturing revival—it redefines the term to fit contemporary branding needs.
NBC didn’t just arrive—it set the blueprint. Launched in 1926 as a radio network by RCA, the National Broadcasting Company became the first major American television network in 1939. Its early broadcasts from the New York World’s Fair established live television as a viable medium. By the late 1940s, NBC had secured coast-to-coast connectivity, thanks to investments from its parent company and federal partnerships.
CBS followed quickly. Columbia Broadcasting System, originally a radio powerhouse, pivoted aggressively toward TV by the mid-1940s. CBS introduced a model that prioritized high production value and journalistic integrity. Edward R. Murrow’s live reports from Europe during World War II gave CBS an early lead in TV news credibility. By 1951, the network aired the first coast-to-coast color broadcast—an adaptation of “Amos 'n' Andy”.
ABC entered as the underdog. Created in 1943 after a forced divestiture of NBC’s Blue Network, ABC lagged behind in infrastructure and audience share. What helped close the gap was strategic investment: in 1953, United Paramount Theatres, run by Leonard Goldenson, purchased ABC and infused funding for aggressive programming expansion. By the 1970s, ABC dominated prime-time ratings with hits like “Happy Days” and “Charlie’s Angels.”
Spectrum licensing shaped who got heard—and who disappeared. The Federal Communications Commission (FCC), created in 1934, began regulating television signal distribution in the 1940s. Through its allocation of VHF (Very High Frequency) channels, the FCC gave NBC, CBS, and ABC priority access to major urban markets.
In 1948, the FCC’s "freeze" on new licenses halted market entry for challengers, giving the Big Three uncontested dominance for nearly four years. This pause, intended to sort out technical and regulatory chaos, ended up cementing control in the hands of the first movers. Emerging regional broadcasters found themselves unable to compete once the freeze lifted in 1952.
The networks didn’t just report the news—they shaped the culture. CBS’s “I Love Lucy” created the sitcom formula still in use today. NBC’s “Today” show, launched in 1952, became the first of its kind to blend news, interviews, and lifestyle segments—setting the tone for morning television for decades.
Even more impactful was their grip on live news. When CBS aired live broadcasts of the McCarthy hearings in 1954, over 20 million viewers tuned in. NBC’s coverage of the 1960 presidential debates between JFK and Nixon redefined political campaigning, underscoring the visual power of through-the-lens messaging. ABC’s “Nightline,” born from the Iran hostage crisis in 1979, introduced nightly deep-dive reporting.
Together, NBC, CBS, and ABC didn’t just deliver entertainment—they monopolized the national conversation. Whether through scripted drama, hard journalism, or televised spectacle, their signals became the American lens on the world.
By the 1980s, the American television industry had begun its transformation from a collection of independently run networks into a complex web of media conglomerates. Ownership structures shifted, regulatory frameworks evolved, and a wave of strategic mergers redrew the broadcasting map. The period from the early 1980s through the early 2000s marked a decisive pivot — from regional programming and homegrown manufacturing to vertically integrated giants with interests spanning television, film, publishing, and technology.
Signed into law by President Bill Clinton, the Telecommunications Act of 1996 marked the first significant overhaul of American telecommunications policy in over 60 years. By removing ownership caps and cross-ownership restrictions, the Act enabled a rapid consolidation of media ownership. Radio, television, newspapers, and cable providers now fell increasingly under the control of fewer, larger corporations. The number of corporations owning a majority of U.S. media outlets shrank dramatically, moving from 50 in the early 1980s to 6 by 2000.
The Federal Communications Commission played a central role in shaping media consolidation. While its mandate included fostering competition and diversity, FCC approvals of major mergers often reflected political pressures and shifting philosophies under various administrations. Under Chairman Michael Powell (2001–2005), the FCC pushed to loosen media ownership rules further, a move that accelerated consolidation. Opposition from consumer groups and court rulings partially reversed some deregulatory efforts, yet the broader trend toward concentrated ownership persisted.
During Donald Trump's presidency (2017–2021), the relationship between government and media giants intensified. One of the most controversial episodes involved Sinclair Broadcast Group, which by 2017 owned or operated 193 local TV stations—reaching over 39% of U.S. households. The planned merger with Tribune Media would have given Sinclair access to 72% market reach, exceeding current FCC limits. Although the FCC, under Chairman Ajit Pai, initially appeared to support it, public outcry and scrutiny from both left and right derailed the deal in 2018. The episode spotlighted ongoing tensions between media consolidation, local journalism, and political alignment within regulatory agencies.
In June 1980, CNN launched as the world’s first 24-hour news network. That move recalibrated the structure and expectations of American television news. Unlike the rigid scheduling of traditional broadcast networks, CNN made real-time coverage accessible day and night—a format that proved powerful during the Gulf War in 1991. Audiences grew as viewers turned to CNN’s live battlefield reporting, placing a premium on immediacy.
Fox News entered the scene in 1996 under Rupert Murdoch’s News Corp, targeting a conservative-leaning demographic, while MSNBC, created the same year by NBC and Microsoft, positioned itself as a left-leaning alternative. This three-way structure segmented American cable news consumers along ideological lines, and the networks leaned into those identities throughout the 2000s, sharpening opinion-driven programming and fueling partisan loyalty.
Unlike broadcast networks, which adhered to a season-based model shaped by Nielsen ratings cycles and advertising schedules, cable news didn’t break for summer or rely on sweeps. Programming ran year-round—solving revenue challenges differently. Fixed costs for infrastructure and talent stayed high, but the rolling nature of breaking stories, from elections to scandals to international conflicts, offered opportunities for unexpected ratings surges.
This non-stop model changed consumer behavior. Viewers no longer waited for evening newscasts or appointment programming. They kept the news on in the background, throughout the day and night, which opened the door to a new kind of loyalty: not to a show or anchor, but to a channel’s ideological framing and tone.
From the mid-1990s through the early 2000s, cable television locked in a generational influence over public discourse. By 2009, nearly 90% of U.S. households subscribed to cable or satellite TV, according to the Federal Communications Commission (FCC). Cable news formed the information backbone for millions of American households post-9/11, especially during moments of crisis.
Flagship programs like The O’Reilly Factor on Fox News, Countdown with Keith Olbermann on MSNBC, and CNN’s Anderson Cooper 360 carved out predictable primetime slots, but the 24-hour format ensured that no major event went uncovered in real time. The nightly format survived, but was no longer the centerpiece.
As cable news matured, it became a focal point in national debates over media bias, regulation, and the reliability of journalism. The term “fake news”—popularized during and after the 2016 U.S. presidential election—was often weaponized against these networks, particularly Fox News and CNN. Politicians on both sides questioned the objectivity and motivations of cable newsrooms.
The FCC’s role came under scrutiny as issues like net neutrality, media ownership caps, and digital competition redefined the policy landscape. Although the FCC oversees broadcast licenses and not cable directly, shifts in media consolidation (such as the Comcast-NBCUniversal merger in 2011) triggered public concern over monopolization of information channels.
What cable had built—an empire of constant engagement and ideologically tailored content—began to show cracks not in reach, but in trust. A 2020 Gallup/Knight Foundation poll reported that only 20% of Americans believed cable news did a “very good” job of separating fact from opinion. For an industry once synonymous with authority, this marked the beginning of a credibility crisis that extended to its entire ecosystem.
Between 2007 and 2020, American media consumption habits underwent a radical transformation. Netflix pioneered the mainstream streaming model in 2007, transitioning from DVD-by-mail to instant online content delivery. Hulu followed in 2008 with a focus on television series, offering next-day access to network shows. While these services initially complemented traditional TV, their rapid audience growth began cannibalizing network viewership.
Amazon entered the arena in 2011 with Prime Video, leveraging its massive logistics and cloud infrastructure. Then in November 2019, Disney+ launched with overwhelming demand—over 10 million signups on its first day, according to Disney earnings reports. These platforms shifted audience expectations from scheduled broadcasts to personalized, bingeable libraries available across devices, 24/7.
Linear TV lost ground fast. In 2015, there were approximately 99 million U.S. pay-TV households. By 2023, that number had dropped below 72 million, according to Leichtman Research Group. Meanwhile, 49% of U.S. adults said they had canceled cable or satellite service altogether by 2022, based on Pew Research Center findings.
Ad revenue followed. Traditional network advertising saw stagnation and decline as marketing budgets shifted toward data-driven digital placements across streaming platforms and social video apps. Network reliance on live sports and reality programming increased as scripted content slipped behind paywalls.
TV’s long-standing syndication model—where popular shows like Friends or The Office could generate revenue for decades—suffered under streaming consolidation. Once Netflix paid $100 million to keep Friends for one year, WarnerMedia reclaimed the series for HBO Max. Universal later did the same with The Office, pulling it to Peacock.
This back-and-forth fractured content availability, but it also cut out third-party networks and local affiliates that once dependent on syndication. Film studios similarly shifted first-run movie releases to digital: in 2021, Warner Bros. streamed its entire theatrical slate on HBO Max, bypassing movie theaters and accelerating Hollywood’s pivot to streaming-first economics.
In response to shrinking ad dollars and cable revenue, major media conglomerates launched in-house streamers. NBCUniversal branded its service as Peacock; ViacomCBS brought CBS All Access to market in 2014, later rebranding it as Paramount+ in 2021. ABC fell under Disney’s umbrella, which folded much of its content into Disney+ and Hulu.
These services carry prestige back catalogs and sports rights, but their revenue lags behind Netflix’s $32 billion 2023 haul. Legacy TV networks still hold intellectual property, yet they can't capture the same market share or viewing hours as their tech-based rivals.
Founded in 2002 and headquartered in Irvine, California, Vizio stands out as one of the last major American-owned TV brands. However, the company’s televisions are not made in the United States. Manufacturing is carried out by contract partners, primarily in China and Mexico, including AmTRAN Technology and TPV Technology.
Vizio's business model focuses on low manufacturing overhead and revenue diversification through infotainment and data monetization. In Q3 2023, Vizio reported $66.3 million from its "Platform+” division — a 22% year-over-year growth — while hardware profits continued to shrink. This shift shows how Vizio no longer functions solely as a television hardware brand. Instead, it positions itself as a connected device and software ecosystem developer.
Roku, Inc., based in San Jose, didn’t start as a TV manufacturer — and technically still isn’t one. Roku licenses its OS to brands like TCL, Hisense, and Sharp, whose TVs come preloaded with Roku TV. These units are built outside the U.S., but their software and user experience are domestically developed. Although not a true "TV manufacturer," Roku controls part of the consumer interface traditionally owned by hardware companies.
SLING TV, owned by Dish Network in Colorado, adds another layer of complexity. It's not a TV hardware company, nor does it make televisions. Yet, it affects how Americans consume television content through IP-based delivery. This raises a legitimate question: If viewers don't distinguish between the box and the content, does it even matter who makes the device?
Element Electronics launched in 2007 and opened an assembly plant in Winnsboro, South Carolina in 2014. In 2023, Element moved its operations to an expanded facility in Fayetteville, Arkansas. What makes them stand out is their claim of building TVs in the U.S — but only the assembly occurs domestically. Key components like LCD panels and LED drivers are imported, primarily from East Asia.
The company touts the “Made in USA” badge, and technically meets the FTC guidelines for using that label when substantial transformation occurs stateside. Yet, by global supply chain standards, Element functions more as a final-assembly and logistics point than a vertically integrated manufacturer.
When consumers think of a television, are they picturing a physical object or the experience? Today, the distinction between hardware manufacturers and media platforms has blurred. Apple TV, Amazon Fire TV, Netflix
The redefinition of what constitutes a “TV company” demands context. If control over access, recommendation algorithms, and advertising delivery defines the industry, then today’s “TV companies” are largely software-driven and cloud-operated. Under that lens, the last American TV company may not be a hardware brand at all—it may be whoever controls the HDMI 1 input.
While scripted television and general entertainment have steadily lost advertising revenue and viewers to streaming platforms, news divisions remain financially viable. According to Kagan, a media research group within S&P Global Market Intelligence, local TV news generated approximately $16.1 billion in advertising revenue in 2022, maintaining a relatively consistent stream despite overall industry contraction. Live news content offers immediacy and relevance that on-demand platforms can't replicate—especially during election cycles, natural disasters, and social unrest.
Stations that shifted resources to bolster their newsrooms, rather than leaning on reruns or syndicated content, found stronger engagement and more robust returns. These trends created a lifeline for many regional broadcasters navigating shrinking margins elsewhere.
Two companies—Sinclair Broadcast Group and Gray Television—have capitalized heavily on news. Between them, they now own or operate over 400 local stations in the United States. Their strategies involve not only acquiring network affiliates, but also centralizing content production. For example, Sinclair mandates that many of its stations air “must-run” segments featuring commentary from headquarters, effectively standardizing editorial slants across diverse markets.
Gray Television, less overt in tone, still emphasizes political content with partnerships like VoterVoice and polling analysis tied directly to its on-air products. Through economies of scale and content replication, these broadcasters reduce costs while tightening control over message direction. It’s not merely about reporting the news—it's about defining its frame.
Between 2016 and 2020, news polarization escalated. Former President Donald Trump's frequent attacks on mainstream outlets, paired with his close ties to conservative-leaning broadcasters, elevated partisan framing. Nielsen data revealed that viewership bifurcated. Fox News surged, MSNBC solidified a counter demographic, and local Sinclair stations saw increased tune-in rates among Republican-identifying viewers.
This divergence encouraged local news operators to lean into opinionated formats. By January 2018, Sinclair’s “Terrorism Alert Desk” and “Bottom Line with Boris” were airing across dozens of affiliates, reinforcing conservative positions while framing them as otherwise neutral segments.
The shift in local broadcasting from reporter-led field coverage to anchored viewpoints created a measurable impact on audience perception. A 2021 Pew Research Center study found that only 36% of U.S. adults trust information from national news outlets “a lot,” down from 49% in 2016. Simultaneously, stations emphasizing commentary over beat reporting often experienced sustained or increased local market share.
For surviving American TV companies, news is no longer just information—it's infrastructure. Local broadcasters have morphed into regional power brokers with national influence. By leveraging audience outrage, playing to confirmation biases, and syncing with political cycles, they’ve created a reliable playbook to stay not just relevant, but profitable.
By the early 2020s, U.S. media giants faced an industry in flux. Legacy networks, cable titans, and once-dominant studios confronted streaming upstarts, shifting consumer behavior, cord-cutting, and an increasingly fragmented audience. How did they respond? Through radical realignments, high-stakes mergers, and monetization pivots built to salvage relevance and revenue.
In April 2022, WarnerMedia and Discovery, Inc. merged to form Warner Bros. Discovery, a $43 billion megadeal driven by the need to pool content libraries, cut costs, and bolster global streaming scale. Warner Bros. Discovery consolidated more than 20 networks, including CNN, HBO, Discovery Channel, and Cartoon Network, under one corporate roof, seeking to rival Netflix and Disney in the global entertainment arms race.
Disney’s multi-phase acquisition of 21st Century Fox, initiated in 2017 and concluded in 2019, left it holding a controlling interest in Hulu. While initially built as a joint venture between Disney, Fox, and Comcast’s NBCUniversal, by 2024, Disney began negotiations to acquire Comcast’s remaining stake to attain full control. This move is intended to fully integrate Hulu with Disney+, creating a unified U.S. streaming interface while eliminating backend redundancies.
These mergers weren’t just defensive. They sharpened focus, stripped operational excess, and consolidated subscriber bases to support the economics of direct-to-consumer distribution.
Paramount Global (formerly ViacomCBS) took a different path. Facing declining cable subscriptions and stagnant box office returns, it opted to merge its two flagship streaming services—Paramount+ and Showtime—into a single platform under the Paramount+ brand in 2023. The merger rebranded Showtime as “Paramount+ with Showtime,” bundling original series with blockbuster films in an effort to compete with bigger players offering expansive content catalogs.
This strategy aimed to concentrate efforts, unify marketing, streamline technology infrastructure, and retain subscribers under one roof rather than dilute engagement across fragmented services.
The pure subscription model proved unsustainable for many platforms unable to achieve the scale of Netflix. In response, most services embraced a hybrid approach by 2022, introducing Advertising-Based Video On Demand (AVOD) tiers to supplement income. Hulu, already a pioneer in ad-supported streaming, was joined by Disney+ and Netflix, each of which introduced lower-cost tiers with pre-roll and mid-roll ads.
Paramount+, Peacock, and Warner Bros. Discovery’s Max all adopted this strategy, balancing affordability for price-sensitive consumers with ad monetization. According to data from MarketCast, AVOD viewership in the U.S. grew by 28% in 2023 alone, outpacing growth in traditional subscription services. Brands welcomed the format, finding premium targeting capabilities and younger audiences often missing from linear TV.
By mixing revenue streams—ads, subscriptions, licensing, and syndication—American TV companies in the 2020s engineered lifelines rather than accepting obsolescence. Whether these maneuvers reinvent the industry or extend its decline remains an open question, but the strategies are unambiguously bold.
Trying to pinpoint the “last” American TV company depends entirely on how the word is defined—by hardware manufacturing, network broadcasting, or ownership structure. Each offers a different perspective and a different answer.
In terms of television hardware, Zenith Electronics holds the distinction as one of the final fully American-owned TV manufacturers. Founded in Chicago in 1918, Zenith produced televisions domestically for decades, becoming a household name. That legacy ended in 1995, when South Korea’s LG Electronics acquired Zenith, marking the close of large-scale American TV set production on U.S. soil. The brand still exists today, but it operates as a wholly owned LG subsidiary.
Since then, American companies like Vizio have maintained a presence in the television market, but their business models tell a different story. Vizio designs TVs in the U.S., yet contracts manufacturing to overseas factories, primarily in China and Mexico. Publicly traded and headquartered in Irvine, California, Vizio represents a hybrid—designed in America, built for the global supply chain. Whether that qualifies as truly “American” is up for interpretation.
Switching focus to content and network ownership reveals similar ambiguity. Once dominated by NBC, CBS, and ABC, U.S. broadcasting today reflects years of corporate consolidation. Disney owns ABC. Comcast controls NBC. Paramount Global (formerly ViacomCBS) runs CBS. None of the original networks operates independently anymore.
Some small-scale or ideological networks like the Christian Broadcasting Network and One America News Network remain outside major corporate umbrellas. Their reach, however, is limited compared to the giants. Even Fox Corporation, though not owned by a conglomerate like Disney, is tightly integrated financially and politically and operates in a thoroughly globalized media framework.
American television—across hardware and broadcasting—no longer rests in the hands of a singular, independent company. Manufacturing has been outsourced, networks have been absorbed, and streaming platforms like Netflix and Amazon—larger than many networks—blur the lines between tech and television.
So, what was the last American TV company? If referring to manufacturing: Zenith. If focused on continuing U.S.-based presence with some degree of independence: possibly Vizio. But placed in the matrix of worldwide mergers and transnational capital, the more accurate answer may be this: none. The industry no longer belongs to any one country.
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