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Next: Tomorrow. Robert Moses' 1964 catalog of "man's achievements in an expanding universe" (the Fair's theme) is, to a great degree, Grover Whalen's 1939 World of Tomorrow come true. Many of the predicted wonders of Whalen's tomorrowland already seem old-hat after 25 years: superhighway networks, air-conditioned homes and television are long-established faits accomplis. The 1964 Fair forecasts a tomorrow of computers, Plexiglas, and vacations in outer space. Other samplings of man's latest (if less than major) achievements: > "Touchtone" phones (1,400 of them), with pushbuttons instead of dials, which the Bell System is installing in its pay stations. Also loungelike "family booths," in which the whole family can talk to some isolated loved one via a centrally placed microphone —thus providing lifelike conversation, complete with interruptions. Bell will have another marvel to show as bait for future phone users: a device first perfected by the redoubtable Tom Swift in 1914 and now called "Picture Phone" will put callers on house-to-house TV.
> Pay-as-you-nap slumber rooms provided by the Simmons mattress company, where half-hour rest periods will be supervised by "Beautyrest Ladies," who will "check and gently awaken any guest who may have drifted from a light nap to a deep sleep." Price per half-hour snooze: $1.
> A chance to photograph Mom as Serpent of the Nile on a set from Cleopatra at Hollywood, U.S.A., a concession masterminded by George Murphy, the former hoofer, now a candidate for the Senate.
> A lifesize, plastic Abraham Lincoln (in the Illinois pavilion) that wrinkles its brow, winks its eye, and recites the Gettysburg Address like a bewhiskered Chatty Cathy. > An actuary's-eye view of the U.S. in the Equitable Life pavilion, where a relief map will flicker with lights as citizens are born or die and a giant counter like a trip speedometer will chronicle the nation's minute-by-minute race toward population explosion. >Electronic pen-palships formed in the Parker Pen pavilion, where a computer will match the interests and languages of Fair visitors with those of overseas correspondents.
If the 1964 Fair promises to be high on achievement, it will be low on hootchy-kootchy. The Meadow Lake Amusement Area, a monorail-belted ghetto for fun and games, will have its share of dancing girls who will bump not, neither will they grind; the reason may be a matter of money as much as morals. Girlie shows at the recent Seattle fair were a financial disaster, and efforts by operators to stimulate business by stimulating the customers brought the paddy wagon for the peelers. But Concession Consultant former Judge Samuel I. Rosenman says that there is no objection to "artistic" shows like the Folies-Bergère or the Lido revue from Paris (though not so bare for the Fair). Says Rosenman: "We want entertainment, all right, but something the police won't raid."