Tannyed & Fit

The biggest chain of sweatshops in the U.S. is owned lock, stock and bar bell by wedge-shaped Californian Vic Tanny, 48, an ex-weight lifter whose sell is every bit as hard as his muscles. Capitalizing on the fetish of physical fitness, Tanny has lured more than a million Americans into some 80 chrome-and-red-carpet Vic Tanny gyms scattered across the U.S., signed them up to membership contracts of six months (typical East Coast price: $185) to "permanent" (seven years: $360) on the pay-as-you-perspire plan. Last week in Chicago, Tanny's muscular sell was sporting several Charley horses. In Cook County circuit court a blind man asked for an injunction to release him from a $385 Tanny membership contract, claiming he went to Tanny's for a job, was told by a Tanny salesman that he had to sign a free membership application first. In suburban La Grange, a Tanny salesman was waiting trial for false imprisonment, on a charge brought by a girl who claimed he had kept her locked in his gym office for an hour while he tried to persuade her to sign up. In a front-page series, Chicago's American was blasting Tanny gyms for high-pressure salesmanship and false health claims.

Shoot Yourself. Though unpleasant, for Vic Tanny such aches are the price of strapping success. "Volume is what counts" is his philosophy, and to get it he pushes his salespeople hard. Tanny spent $2,000,000 on advertising to entice people into his gyms last year. Once the customers are there, he expects his personnel to make sure they sign a contract. Regional Vic Tanny sales offices set new membership goals each day. Salesmen often work strictly on commission, are encouraged to take over the gym manager's job by outselling him--but may be dumped back to the sales staff the next day if the ex-manager outsells the new boss. Tanny once sent out mimeographed sales instructions to his staff with a list of suggested conversations when telephoning prospects. It concluded with, "If you fail to get an appointment, then take a gun out of the desk and shoot yourself."

Such internal pressure inevitably produces occasional overenthusiasm on the part of salesmen. Tannymen drew so many complaints in New York that the state attorney general's office last summer persuaded the gyms to sign a fair practices code to prohibit methods of selling that are deceitful, fraudulent or misleading. The New York complaints have slowed to a trickle. Actually, many of the complaints against Tanny across the U.S. are caused by fatigue, not fraud. Many a newly won health and exercise bug gets drooping wings after a few weeks or months of working out. His enthusiasm gone, he wants to get out of his contract, looks for any excuse to do so.

Fat Gains. The best of Tanny's gyms are modern, clean, superbly equipped, often house under one roof the gym, a swimming pool, steam rooms, an ultraviolet tanning room, even a private bowling alley. Moreover, Tanny's tactics have paid off. Since he gave up teaching junior high school and opened his first gym in 1935. sales have developed to $24 million a year. Tanny owns all his 80 clubs outright, together with six companies that service them with everything from exercise machines to health foods. He opened 35 new gyms last year at a cost of $3,750,000, hopes to open at least another 35 this year. His ultimate goal: 1,000 gyms in 300 cities. "Then I'll put out a stock issue," he says, "and get fat on capital gains."

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