INDUSTRY: The Rising Wages of Fear

One tie that binds urban Americans is that most of them have had their homes broken into—or know someone who has. Burglaries rank first among all U.S. crimes, and fewer than a third of them are ever solved. Fed up with being victimized, apprehensive homeowners and apartment dwellers are replacing the welcome mat with an arresting array of security devices and services. Unwanted visitors now run the risk of being temporarily blinded by intense lights, deafened by screaming alarms, stung by electric fences or sprayed with tear gas. For the fledgling industry that supplies this security, the wages of fear are handsome. Sales in the home-protection market climbed from $5,000,000 in 1966 to $20 million last year, and are destined to rise at least as fast as the crime rate.

Howling Horns. Thousands of manufacturers have pried their way into the beat-the-burglar business. 3M Co., for example, sells a lock containing a small alarm that wails at the touch of a burglar’s pick. Pinkerton’s is promoting a $449 microwave unit called Minuteman II that rings like a fire siren when anything breaks its circuit. Sears, Roebuck’s $99.50 Deluxe Ultrasonic Intruder Alarm blinks on lamps and sets off a shrieking noise if tripped; for a few dollars more a companion attachment outside the house will add a howling horn to the cacophony. Advertisements for security products often play on the public’s fears of the prowly world of burglars, narcotics addicts and psychotics. Alarm-tronics Engineering of Newton, Mass., claims in its ads that its earsplitting electronic screamer “overcomes intruders with a compelling psychological desire to flee area.”

Unwilling to trust gadgetry alone, more and more people are signing up with a growing number of home-protection services. The leader in the field is Westinghouse Electric, which sells its services in 29 cities. For a fee of between $700 and $2,000, plus $50 to $200 annually for maintenance, clients get an alarm system that is linked electronically to a Westinghouse monitoring station. If the alarm rings, the security officer at the station calls the police.

Home-security firms usually affix seals on the windows or doors of their clients’ homes to warn would-be prowlers. Householders unable to afford central-station service can buy security seals. “Scare off a burglar” urges an ad for stickers for a nonexistent Federal Detection Alarm System. Price: 40 for $5. More sophisticated hucksters covertly peddle reasonable facsimiles of the decals of reputable firms, including Holmes Electric Protective Co. The fakes cost $100 or more.

Super Sensors. All electronic detection systems have certain similarities. The detecting devices, called sensors, come in many shapes and sizes and generally emit one of three kinds of waves: ultrasonic, light and microwave. When anything disturbs the waves given out by the sensors, the circuit is broken and the alarm is tripped. The sensors can be placed anywhere: in an electric socket, on a tabletop, at a window sill, under a door mat, and even in special wires of a flyscreen.

Annoying problems are built into some systems. Ultrasonic units are so sensitive that they can be triggered by starting up an air conditioner. A common and controversial antiburglar device is the “automatic dialer” system, which is rigged to a telephone. It works this way: 1) the homeowner activates the system by pushing a button whenever he leaves his house; 2) if a burglar opens a door or window or in any other way breaks the alarm circuit, the system automatically dials the police, and 3), a prerecorded tape then cries for help. One trouble is that there are too many false alarms. The automatic dialers were banned in Los Angeles and Philadelphia after police complained that they were ineffective.

Going to the Dogs. Rather than cope with the cost and complications of these advanced systems, most people rely on a daunting array of door locks—as many as five on a door in Manhattan luxury apartments. Even the best lock is not pick-proof. Says Robert J. McDermott, a leading security expert who is a Holmes vice president: “A dedicated guy can get into Fort Knox. But if you have a good lock on your door, he will probably go down the hall to the next apartment.”

To prevent picking, the locks are becoming miniversions of those on bank vaults. C & S Security Devices of Olathe, Kans., has brought out a lock that is equipped with a pushbutton panel like that on a telephone. The lock opens only when the right combination of numbers is pushed—and there are twelve buttons for a prowler to scratch his head over. Eaton Corp.’s new Identi-Lock, which looks like a tiny mail slot, operates on electronic impulses. The lock, which costs about $100, is opened by inserting in its slot a binary-coded circuit shaped like a collar stay. A lock produced by Gasguard Corp. of Plymouth Meeting, Pa., spits a stream of tear gas when tampered with. Many experts say that the best lock for the price is the particularly pick-resistant Medeco Cylinder, made by Mechanical Development Co. of Salem, Va. It is easily installed in any standard local frame, sells for $20 and is opened by a snaggle-toothed key.

Many families are taking a renewed interest in one of the oldest forms of protection: guard dogs trained to attack savagely. Price: $550 to $1,500. Unfortunately, the beasts sometimes attack members of the family or bite innocent strangers. Manhattan’s Leisure Data Inc. has developed a briskly selling item that gives many of the benefits and few of the problems of a guard dog. For $2.50, it offers a 20-minute tape recording of a dog barking, snapping and growling, certain to give pause to the bravest burglar. The tape can be played on a recorder, or attached to an alarm system in place of a siren. Company officers maintain that the record has a satisfying tone of viciousness, the result of a carefully concocted and highly secret recipe of dog sounds, including a base of German shepherd and just a soupçon of weimaraner.