St. Louis Post-Dispatch from St. Louis, Missouri • Page 153

eveiplay ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH SUNDAY, AUGUST 6, 1978 SECTION MM Colnmbiis, Ohio, Tries The intimate' Tmnn-On "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's go for $2.50 a shot. drive-in fare Killer Ants," "Big Bad gets $2. Classics (like "The Caine Mutiny" and "The Pink are cheap at $1, and special events (Nightclub Tour of Paris, George Burns in Cocnert) run from $1.50 to $2.50. Already there have been some minor adjustments in pay-programming, the big casualty being sports.

Qube's P-4 originally carried many Madison Square Garden events, plus Cleveland Cavaliers and Ohio State basketball. But when Ohio State's four-game winning streak turned into a two-game losing streak, the fans' eagerness to pay plummeted. Similarly, though surveys indicated Columbus wanted more TV sports, few sports fanatics, it seems, were accustomed or willing to pay. If the monthly subscription rate lags, if security devices are not yet sold, if TV viewers have to be slowly reconditioned to punch $2.50 buttons in their own living rooms, then Hauser and company have plenty of other revenue-producing schemes up their sleeves. To begin with: the Infomercial and Qubit.

These are actually elongated commercials (the Qubit is usually two minutes, the Infomercial longer) that might present a minidocumentary on, say, digital watches, followed by a low-key sales pitch you'd like to order a Timex, or receive a sample brochure, just touch button American Express purchased ads, as did a Columbus travel agency which polled viewers to find out if their dream vacation would see them in Amsterdam, Tahiti, Rome, London or Paris (Paris won) and then sent Paris tour brochures to Paris-touching viewers. An insurance salesman pitched various annuity and protection plans, patiently explained the intricacies of insurance, then asked for some button-' pressing. Only four viewers hit their buttons, but of those four, two bought policies and a third is mulling it over. Remember: Columbus, Ohio, is officially Test City, USA. Whenever there is a new fabric softener, a new ball-point pen or a new size of Coke bottle to be thrust upon the American consumer, the market research teams race for this perfectly proportioned, moderately sized prosperous heart of the Heartland, with its comfortable mix of white and blue collar and without the disruptive, distracting extremes of eastern sophistication, inner city ghetto or California hip.

How absolutely invaluable then that this perfect test city should now come equipped with its own perfect testing tool: Qube. Columbus is divided geographically among four cable franchises of which Warner has a potential 100,000 subscribers. When Qube was first inaugurated, Warner counted 26,000 subscribers to its conventional one-way cable. After several months, Warner had convinced about 10,000 of them that they wanted "the wondrous worlds of Qube." Is that success? Disappointing? Behind schedule? To all such questions, Hauser politely but firmly insists on remaining disruptive winter of blizzards threw all operations off schedule and, in addition, Hauser prefers not to indulge in head-counts. Qube is still very much an experiment.

In infancy. Far, far from the realm of conclusive results. "We are very, very encouraged," is all he will allow. After Columbus the next major target is Pittsburgh, which could prove interesting. If Pittsburgh does get Qubed, the reality of the wired society will have jumped a giant bound closer.

Can we all expect to be shopping at Tiffany's from our living room Lazy-Boy? Will we not only skip crowded faraway movie lines for comfy, convenient fee TV, but have electronic customized newspapers printed by Qube touch-in, as well? It could be. From New Times Magazine By Jonathan Black On Dec. 1, 1977, Warner Communications inaugurated Qube. And just as Columbus, Ohio, was the first U.S. metropolis to enjoy square milk bottles and push-button banking, so upward of 20,000 Columbus citizens were soon shelling out a $19.95 installation charge ($9.95 for those who were already plugged in to Warners' one-way cable) plus $10.95 monthly to become the ultimate wired society, the lucky recipients of the world's first and boldest unsophisticated, ultraexpensive two-way cable TV system.

It allows viewers to talk back to their TV. On the other hand, it allows the TV to keep a close, big-brother eye on the viewers. The Qube console is held gently in the hand, a mere eight ounces, measuring about the size of a large paperback. It is the Qube "console." It has three columns: a yellow for "premium" (or a green for and a blue for "television" (regular channels from Columbus and other Ohio cities). Ten rows afford 30 choices, which is how many channels you get on Qube.

To fully grasp the Columbian Connection you must follow the 25-foot wire across your carpet to the TV set, past the small black box (the in-house computerized terminal) behind the set, through the wall, into the street, then over utility poles or underground for miles and miles across Columbus until you reach Qube's Olentangy River Road complex. Secluded behind closely guarded, double-sealed doors, is the Data General monster. Data General's "Eclipse" may not be the world's most complex computer system, but it is the most elaborate ever hooked or, as Qube folks like to say, "married" into a cable TV network. Every six seconds this technological wizard sweeps its universe, asking its sets three questions: (1) Are you functioning properly? (2) What channel are you tuned to? (3) Which "response" button is tuned in? The first two questions alone provoke rather mind-boggling possibilities. Suddenly obsolete are the cumbersome, delayed and questionably accurate Nielsen and Arbitron ratings.

Qube executives get instant precision data on viewing patterns not every 15 minutes but every six seconds. No one can deny the Qube computer's revolutionary capability, which lies in its talent for reading a column of five black "response" buttons located on the right side of the Qube console. These buttons, too, are swept and tabulated "every six seconds and constitute Qube's instant "talk-back" facility. A question is flashed on the screen followed by five possible answers; or buttons 1 and 2 can serve as "yes" and "no" replies. Finally, Mr.

Columbus can talk back to his TV. Mr. Columbus could (and did) "vote" on Mayor Tom Moody's snow removal job, bid for a golf club auctioned by Gov. James A. Rhodes, book a table for Mother's Day at the popular Jai Alai Restaurant, register his opinion of his newscaster's haircut, and name a baby.

And all this as they are fond of saying at Qube is just the beginning. The Qube people call it touching in. When a response is requested, the words "touch now" flash at the bottom of the screen. Qube uses the word "touch" presumably to emphasize the effortless ease of command. The conventional TV dial is known as a cumbersome, sticky device.

Add on the cable box and you've increased channel selection but are still left with the same inhibiting appliance: the knob. The knob's structure influences viewing habits. The mind, for instance, is invariably "anchored" around the three prime network channels: CBS, NBC and ABC: In New York City these channels are 2, 4 and 7, respectively. In between these channels there is a perceptible device protects against assault outside the home. Narrowcast indicates the computer's ability to transmit a certain program only to prearranged select households (the rest of the universe gets snow).

Narrowcast means the Columbus Bar Association can broadcast its refresher course on torts to Qube lawyers only. With the cooperation of various colleges and universities Ohio State, Franklin University and Columbus Technical In- pornography fan. P-10 has also provoked sporadic concern that while Mom and Dad are curled up in bed with "Emannuelle in Bangkok," the Data General monster at Olentangy River Road is tabulating every Columbus pervert tuned to incriminating fare. Coupled with the on-line computer humming away in the downstairs living room, Qube has made a few edgy people wonder if the era of Big Brother may not be soon approaching. Absolutely not, insist the Qube execs.

The computer never records individual names and addresses, unless the viewer wishes it (as when booking restaurant reservations or bidding at auctions). No record is made of individual viewing habits. But isn't it possible, asked a troublesome group of journalists, that a political candidate might swipe his opponent's billing records and then parade the creep's lust before the public? "The answer to that, I guess," replies Warner Cable's chief executive and chairman, Gustave M. Hauser, "is that if you're in a position where you could be blackmailed, don't watch blue movies." The phrase "blue sky" is used around Warner's to peremptorily dismiss competitive cable schemes that sound great but are about as pretty and empty as blue sky. For instance, Qube's general manager in Columbus, Mike Korodi, said that just about every cable company talks about fancy two-way home protection schemes but only Qube is poised to market this protection.

Korodi's elegant, beige-carpeted office contains some surprises. Take one step across the' cushiony carpet and your senses are suddenly assaulted by wailing sirens and blue-flashing strobe lights. Behind the hanging asparagus fern Korodi has concealed an anti-vandal sensor. The sensor is standard equipment, avail able in the Yellow Pages. What makes it unique is its hook-up to Qube's coaxial cable, which relays the vandal's presence to Data General.

Next, Korodi takes a hank of rope from the glass coffee table, lights it, then holds it close to a ceiling smoke detector. There is a brief six-second delay; it takes that long from Data General to make sure the smoke means genuine fire not just burning toast. It can tell the difference. Should the computer decide there's a problem, a siren goes off in the home, the alarm is instantly triggered at the fire department, and while firemen speed to the burning building, the computer feeds them data on the nearest fire hydrant, age of building, its structure, possible flammables, locations and names of family dog and cat, etc. Similarly, the burglar-tripped alarm instantly relays all relevant data to the appropriate municipal police depart- ment.

In the room next to Korodi's office the "police" or "fire" computer instantly clacks out copy. The transmission has gone through Qube's 850 miles of cable first. Fire and burglar protection will soon be available to Qube subscribers, made possible by Data General's six-second sweep of households. The systems are all presumably tamperproof and unsnippa-ble. Also in the immediate offing are Emergency Medical Services: An elderly person within 150 feet of home can touch a small "panic button" necklace and ambulances will shoot to the scene, already in possession of the victim's history of heart attack, medication, possible allergies, name of doctor, "even the phone number of the mother-in-law in California," says Korodi.

A similar drop in "value." As you round 7 and head for the higher numbers (to the oasis of 13 PBS), the drop in value grows more emphatic. Qube is different. There is no dial. In its place is the Chinese-menu mode of selection, a calculator-type box. Button-operated, all 30 channels enjoy equal "weight" and so dispense with the familiar supremacy of network anchoring position.

And not only do buttons make all channels equally accessible all The folks at Qube provided Channel P-IO. stands for porn. the time, but the box encourages jumping around. No fear that to get from 2 to 11 you'll be subjected (even subliminally) to the offensive, distracting fare in between. And once you've arrived at Channel 11, the return trip to 2 will prove just as effortless.

The Qube console lends itself to playing hopscotch. Determined to give Columbus the ultimate in variety, the folks at Qube provided Channel P-10. stands for porn. Qube subscribers can skip all fleshly temptations by prerequesting "snow" instead of porn on P-10 and are provided the additional safeguard of the Qube key (atop the console), which disconnects all pay programming. Also, the hard-core X-material has been deftly edited to a blander soft-core R.

Though this last move has done little to curb what are quaintly known in Columbus as "P-10 parties," it has provoked an anguished outcry from more than one devoted successful films including "Capricorn One," "Damien: Omen II" and "The Buddy Holly Story." Each week brings its own new record. In one weekend (June 16-18), "Grease" and "Jaws 2" took in over $9 million apiece. Until then, only "Star Wars" had ever made as much as $7.5 million in a During the last week in June, Los Angeles box office figures reached $2 million for the first time in history. June itself set a United States record of more than $315 million. July has been better.

For the week ending July 5, Paramount set an industry record of $16,611,966 in film rentals to a single studio in a single week. Then, on July 21-23, "Star Wars" became the first picture to top $10 million in one weekend. "It is obvious," said Barry Diller, chairman of Paramount Pictures, "that the movie industry has made a lot of pictures that people want to see. But we can put our success to death quickly by making movies that are unappealing. And, if history is any indication, the chances are that we will.

"I look back at last year and wonder wfiat we were thinking about when we ax cv i OP MP kV6A THc Boring, Copycat TV And Escapist Films And all this, as they are fond of saying at Quite, is only the beginning. stitute Qube viewers can have various courses narrowcast to their living rooms, to audit or to earn credit. And because Qube is two-way talk, students are free to communicate with their professor. In the Qube studio, Dr. Calculus might ask, "Am I going too fast?" When, six seconds later, 89 percent tell him yes, back he heads for the differential.

No one will say exactly what Qube has cost. Original estimates of $8-10 million have jumped to the point where Hauser admits the lavish experiment has set Warner back "more than $15 million." Some TV insiders believe $25 million would be a more accurate figure. Whatever the cost, Hauser is convinced he's got a smash hit on his hands and is, for the moment, cavalier and unconcerned with bottom-line realities. It is hoped that double or triple the $10.95 monthly revenue will come from the column, where porn costs First-run Movies "Three Women," Jam Movie becomes your restaurant. Business has been building for two years; now people are back into the habit of going to the movies." Not all pictures are making money.

"The Swarm," "International Velvet" and "Convoy" have been obvious box-office losers from their first weekend. But the key fact of this summer is that people are indeed getting into the habit of going to the movies rather than a specific movie. Boone, who has studied the Los Angeles market carefully, says that, "as big as 'Grease' and 'Jaws 2' opened in June, they didn't get their customers at the expense of other movies. When 'Heaven Can Wait' came in the last weekend of June, it made $300,000. But it didn't siphon that money away from any other films.

The box office simply went up $300,000." The reason more people are swarming to more movies is not complicated. Boone is among several movie executives who give half of the credit for the movie renaissance to television. "Television has helped us enormously by being in a rut," he said. "It's called NOOtUB) i eoid. IS ing an automobile assembly line from heavy to light cars, "Rocky's" inheritors did not start reaching theaters until last fall.

By that time, the success of "Star Wars" had hammered the final nail into the coffin of films that, as Diller puts it, "made people feel bad." Ironically, Sylvester Stallone who became a movie star because of "Rocky" was swamped in the tidal wave of escapist films. His new movie, "F.I.S.T.," a somewhat serious account of corruption in the American labor movement that received a number of good reviews, died at the box office. Ashley Boone, senior vice-president for marketing and distribution at 20th Century-Fox, thinks that the genesis for this summer's success began two years ago. "It started at Christmas 1976 when you had in the marketplace 'The 'A Star Is a Pink Panther movie, 'Silver Streak' and the play-off of People went to the movies and enjoyed the experience. When they enjoyed it, they said, 'Let's do it It's like if you go to a restaurant and have a very good meal, you go back.

If you have a second good meal, that Houses If something is a successful formula, television copies it 41 times." Says Diller, "There has been a profound lack of interest in television this year. Television has finally bored even its bedrock customers." In addition, "The history of our business shows that a very successful film helps other films," Charles Powell said. Ashley Boone agrees that "the constant entry into the market of additional well-accepted motion pictures keeps the market alive. Our potential market is so huge that it can expand to encompass everything." One must be careful, however, not to take this summer's heady figures at face value. "Jaws 2," for example a movie that cost well over $20 million and must thus bring back nearly $50 million in film rentals to Universal before the profit participants receive any money does not appear to have very steady fins.

It will make a profit, but nothing as extravagant as the first box-office figures would indicate. And "The Cheap Detective," which also opened splendidly, has recently See MOVIES, Page 16 MY mil? made 'Black Why didn't we know that people wouldn't want to see a threatening picture about terrorism? And other studios had 'New York, New 'A Bridge Too II' all those heavy movies that fizzled when they got to the marketplace." Eighteen months ago, Diller said, "Paramount made a decision to make positive films, films that make people feel good." The results of that decision are in the marketplace this summer. "And apparently the public is starving for escapist entertainment films," Powell said. "Everything that's successful this summer a wild farce, a sweet comedy, a fight picture is pure entertainment." This cycle of escapist entertainment began with the unexpected success of "Rocky," a low-budget movie that won the 1976 Academy Award for Best Picture as handily as its underdog hero won his girl and his laurel, victory in the big fight. Because retooling a movie assembly line from heavy to light films takes approximately as long a time as retool 0Y By Aljean Harmetz l7l New York Times News Service LOS ANGELES This summer, people are going to the movies so frequently and in such numbers that the studios are giddy with surprise and success.

"Every May we sit around and say there are giant box-office films coming," said Charles Powell, senior vice president for advertising and promotion for Universal Pictures. "They all look big before they come out. Then, invariably every June, you open; and two-and-a-half pictures make money. Two of those make big money, and one does moderately well. But right now we have an unheard-of number of wildly successful films." Those pictures include Universal's "Jaws Paramount's "Grease," "Heaven Can Wait" and seven-month-old "Saturday Night United Artists' "Revenge of the Pink Columbia's "The Cheap Detective," and 20th Century Fox's 14-month-old "Star Wars." Just below the "wildly successful" movies are a bunch of solidly I HAVE WO KB) Jules Feiffer Looks At The World BY MY OOrJ 13 mf mo 1 I 1 i.