The 19-Inch Supermarket

The hottest TV star in Tucson, Ariz., has a Trendex rating of zero. Equity has never heard of him. But to housewives in a 17-story, 411-apartment complex called Tucson House, Joseph J. Gorman is bigger than Judy Garland. Gorman is a grocer whose market, located in the new $6,500,000 building's basement, is hooked into a closed-circuit television system that gives its built-in audience laughs, punditry and laid-yesterday eggs at a moment's notice.

The Tucson House shopper simply summons Gorman by telephone, then switches her set to Channel 2. Is the lettuce crisp? The corn ripe? She can inspect each item as closely as could be without actual melon tunking or peach squeezing. Gorman rings up the order under her watchful eye, then hangs up the phone. The groceries are delivered within minutes. The lady need never get dressed. Gorman cannot inspect her.

Though it is the first such setup in the U.S., electronic marketing is not all that the housewives' network has to offer. Channel 6 provides 24-hour Big Sisterly surveillance of the lobby which allows a tenant to inspect her own callers before admitting them or to eavesdrop on a neighbor's callers. Switching to Channel 5, a mother can check on the kids in the swimming pool. A fourth camera continuously displays cards printed with news items, classified ads and unclassified gossip.

None of these rival attractions is likely to prove more popular than Grocer Gorman. In 15-minute sustaining spiels delivered three times each day, Gorman regales the folks upstairs with reminiscences, political commentary ("Lodge has gone as far as he can go; I see Rocky ahead in California") and laid-yesterday jokes ("Hello, this is Candid Camera"). Joseph Gorman may be short, paunchy, balding and pushing 60, but to his fans he means more than any matinee idol; he means idle matinees.

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