The New Fortress America

By John Greenwald

Fear of crime transforms home protection into a runaway growth industry

In Phoenix, metal lawn signs in front of homes warn burglars that gun-wielding guards will greet them if they enter. In Cleveland, a school for canines turns tail-wagging family pooches into snarling guard dogs. In Los Angeles, uniformed attendants at a bunker-like command post study screens and consoles day and night, watching for signs of home break-ins. When an alarm goes off, they lift a red telephone to summon police, or bark out a microphone command that dispatches members of their own gun-toting security force.

Across the U.S., the rising fear of crime has turned the once sluggish home-security business into a runaway growth industry. Sales of burglar alarms and other residential safeguards have zoomed to nearly $900 million a year, up from $500 million in 1979, and are expanding at the dazzling annual rate of about 30%. Firms in the field range from industrial giants like Honeywell (1982 sales: $4.6 billion) to one-person outfits selling burglar alarms.

While costly security systems once were mainly for the rich, they are now being eagerly sought by the less affluent. Says H. Tim Crow, vice president and secretary of Atlanta-based Rollins Protective Services (fiscal 1983 sales: $28.5 million), a supplier of detection equipment and services: "Yes, we're still protecting the wealthy--athletes, entertainers, top executives, the heirs to fortunes. We've always protected them. But now we are also protecting the middle class, or the man who is retired and lives with his wife on a pension." A survey commissioned earlier this year by Security Distributing and Marketing, a trade publication, found that of some 42 million homes in the U.S., no fewer than 3 million had residential-alarm installations. Some 2 million of those were homes worth $100,000 or less.

A typical electronic surveillance system costs about $3,000. For that the homeowner gets a network of sensors that can detect break-ins. An intruder sets off a piercingly loud alarm and triggers a signal in the central monitoring station or at a police station. Charges for the monitoring service: about $30 a month.

For some wealthy people, electronic surveillance is not enough. They have taken refuge from crime inside enclaves that, like medieval towns, are surrounded by walls. The homes inside are generally protected by alarms as well. Such "gated-off" compounds include the likes of MountainGate (pop. 400), a condominium complex in Southern California, and the Palm Beach County community of Golf (pop. 110) in Florida.

Elsewhere, some frightened citizens are resorting to less elaborate precautions. In the Cleveland suburb of Garfield Heights, Nuns Mary Assumpta and Augustine Marie recently enrolled their Siberian husky Tanya in the nearby Inter national School for Dogs. For about $500 per pet, that academy teaches normally docile canines to bark, growl and bite. "We've had occasions when there have been people trying doors," says Sister Mary of her 32-bedroom convent. At the school, Head Trainer Howard Denton said business stayed strong even during the recession. "Any dog can do protection," he asserts. "I've trained poodles so that they won't kissy-face everybody."

In New York City last week, visitors flocked to one of the largest displays of high-technology protection gear ever assembled. The vast and ear-splitting array was on view at the International Security Conference and Exposition. Among devices in the more-than-500-booth exhibit was a $2,000 alarm made by Texas-based Sennet Systems that is equipped with a computer-synthesized voice. When activated, the unit can phone a homeowner anywhere in the U.S. and use its 256-word vocabulary to alert him to the precise nature of a security problem. Linear Corp. of Inglewood, Calif., showed off a $199 outdoor surveillance system that, when tripped by an intruder, floods a home and its surroundings with up to 500 watts of light. Linear also displayed a $49, three-quarter-ounce transmitter that can be worn as a necklace. When pressed, it silently triggers a main alarm.

Although the exhibitions have traditionally focused on commercial-and industrial hardware, nearly half of the items displayed last week were for residential use. "The industry didn't create this market," said Albert Janjigian, chairman of the Security Equipment Industry Association. "It was the increase in crime that did it." Janjigian called home protection the fastest-growing segment of the $20 billion security business.

Experts cite several reasons, in addition to a parade of scary headlines, for the rush to buy security equipment. The surge of women into the work force, for example, has meant that many houses and entire neighborhoods are now largely empty during the day. In addition, brisk sales of home computers, videotape recorders and other expensive items have left many households with more to protect.

Cutbacks in the amounts cities spend on police service have also helped fuel homeowners' fears. "People feel they're not getting enough protection," says Sergeant Norris Solomon, coordinator of private patrols for the Los Angeles police department. "A void has been created, and private enterprise has jumped in to make a buck." The Los Angeles area alone has some 500 security companies, roughly triple the number of just three years ago. Says former Los Angeles Police Chief Tom Reddin, 67, who retired in 1969 and now runs Reddin Security Services: "Business is crazy."

Homeowners are frequently galvanized into buying security systems after suffering a burglary or having one happen to someone they know. "There is a high correlation between the experience of crime and the purchase of security equipment," observes Samuel Hagler of the management-consulting firm of Booz, Allen & Hamilton.

Many people claim that electronic surveillance offers peace of mind and a huge sense of relief. Ginny Tyzzer, a Los Angeles microelectronics inspector, paid $3,000 for a system last year after several houses in her area were burglarized. "It's a great comfort knowing you won't be surprised coming home," says she. "I don't worry about that any more."

The home-security boom has made winners out of many firms. These include Westec Security (1982 sales: $26 million), a California-based electronic-alarm maker that began twelve years ago with a $150,000 investment. Last year it was sold for $14 million to Secom Co. Ltd. of Japan. In Colorado, Denver Burglar and Fire Alarm Co. (1982 sales: $12 million) has quadrupled its residential business in just the past three months by offering a $595 security system that can be installed by one person in a single day. Three workers had previously needed up to five days to put in one of the company's $3,000 units.

Cable-television companies are also finding a market in home security. Warner Amex Cable Communications has sold protection systems through its security division to some 7,000 subscribers on its Qube cable service. A computer at Qube studios in four cities checks customers' homes every ten seconds through terminals mounted in the households and linked to the subscribers' television cables. Each terminal collects data from sensors inside a house.

Like many hot new fields, home-security equipment has attracted a number of fast-buck artists. "A lot of these guys have run in yelling The sky is falling, buy an umbrella!' " declares Los Angeles Police Sergeant Solomon. "There are boiler-room shops that promise the world but don't deliver. The situation is made-to-order for con men."

Some observers are now growing concerned that the home-security field may be overcrowded and that profits will start to fall. "The market is so fragmented that there are no truly dominant players around," says Garry Brathwaite, a leading security-industry analyst for Shearson/American Express. "Things are spread so thin that nobody will make any decent money." Brathwaite fears that the rising demand will lure a spate of new companies into the market and trigger a ruinous price-cutting binge.

The proliferation of home-protection systems is also plaguing police departments across the country with an epidemic of false alarms. Chicago police found that 98.4% of the security alerts they responded to in 1980 were caused by culprits such as cats, wind or even the midday sun setting off alarm systems. The Los Angeles police department now bills homeowners $42.50 for any spurious summons--but only after a maximum of four within twelve months.

The rash of false calls has been caused in part by security companies that relay incoming messages to the police without bothering to screen them. Many large and well-staffed firms, by contrast, first telephone the home to make certain that a problem exists. Some alarm systems even activate microphones that allow the distant monitors to listen to sounds inside a house. Companies promote such safeguards as major selling points for their wares. "False alarms can put you out of business," says Jerry Thompson, a consultant for Rampart Security Systems in Somerset, N.J.

Even the most costly safeguards can be useless, however, when people fail to exercise ordinary caution. "The real danger is still public carelessness," declares San Jose Police Chief Joseph McNamara. "Let your newspapers pile up on the sidewalk and you'll get hit, no matter how good a system you've got." Despite the outpouring of fancy electronic wares, he says, the best protection is still good locks and good sense. --By John Greenwald. Reported by Thomas McCarroll/New York and Richard Woodbury/Los Angeles, with other bureaus

With reporting by THOMAS McCARROLL, Richard Woodbury This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.