Archibald Cox: What Are His Choices?

In most major Harvard crises during the last 18 months, Archibald Cox '34, Williston Professor of Law, has stepped in and taken control of the University's response. His closemouthed approach and calm self-confidence have earned him the nickname "The General" from his colleagues in the Administration.

In his rare encounters with reporters, he seems clearly to relish the role. He dominates the gatherings of administrators and calmly assures the press that he does have the authority to take steps he feels necessary.

New Archie Cox is the man who will decide what to do about the women. After the first day of the occupation of the Architectural Technology Workshop at 888 Memorial Drive- when Maurice Kilbridge, dean of the Design School, issued his first and only statement about the takeover of a GSD building-Cox has been the sole spokesman for the University.

At a press conference last Tuesday, he made it clear to reporters that he was now vested with the full authority to order police action. And a reliable Faculty source said Wednesday that the Deans had given Cox full authority to order a raid whenever he felt it necessary.

Such power to act independently is now for Cox. He first made his name as a University strategist when he headed the blue-ribbon panel appointed by the Columbia administration to investigate the causes of the massive student strike which paralyzed that university in April of 1968.

However, the report which built Cox's reputation as the nation's leading confrontation expert proposed a strategy for student disruptions which has since proved bankrupt: it chided Grayson

Kirk for delaying police action and suggested that quick and effective use of force could keep the disruptions caused by future such occupations to a minimum.

The Harvard Administration employed such a strategy a year later after consulting Cox, when faced with a militant building occupation. The result was a massive and broad-based student strike which effectively paralyzed the University for nearly a month, radicalizing many students and politicizing many Faculty members.

In September 1969, the Corporation quietly gave Cox a full mandate to handle all such future situations. Although in theory every University official must report to the President. Cox answered only to the Corporation.

Since then, Cox has played a major role in all major crises. In each he has acted independently, keeping his intentions to himself and insisting on his own authority to set University policy.

Although Cox has dealt with varying degrees of success with two takeovers of University Hall by the Organization for Black Unity, a major disruption of the Annual Meeting of the Visiting Committee of the Center for International Affairs, and a student Strike, the one incident which now weighs most heavily on his mind came in April of last year when a group of students, community residents, and street people seized Lawrence Hall and declared it a "Free University." The situation bore many resemblances to the current occupation of the Architectural Technology Workshop: the building was old, little-used, and rundown, and it was slated for demolition.

Cox decided to do nothing and wait for the demolition. But his strategy backfired: a fire broke out three weeks later on an upper floor of the building where a group of street people had started a commune, and the resultant blaze gutted the building. Four firemen were hospitalized when a wall fell on them.

Cox said Tuesday that he held himself responsible for the injury to the firefighters, and went on to say that fear of a possible repetition was one of his reasons for wanting the architectural building cleared as quickly as possible. "Suppose this time I let some one get burned to death?" he asked.

The massive statement released yesterday makes clearer the strategy Cox may be relying on to deal with this newest crisis. Cox is caught with no precedent which has led to success.

Cox undoubtedly hoped that the temporary restraining order he obtained Tuesday would begin clearing the building and isolating the occupiers from student support. Cox had delayed seeking the order since Saturday in order to avoid presenting the image of an inflexible, repressive administration; he sought to present a reasonable face to the students from whom the largely non-student occupiers might hope to draw support.

When the injunction was issued, it contained provisions which might make Harvard and Radcliffe women hesitate before rushing to join the occupiers: even supplying food and bedding was illegal.

At the same time, however, the University refrained from identifying and punishing those students who could be identified, hoping that they would fall away in time. Quiet pressure was applied to some.

Now, in the massive memorandum, Cox forcefully presents the image of a man at the end of his patience. A police raid, he implies, is becoming less and less avoidable.

Cox clearly feels that the University cannot give in: the precedent might lead to a rash of seizures by groups angered at University policies, presenting him with an even more difficult choice.

But Cox also realizes that a police raid on the "Liberated Women's Center" could turn into a bloody nightmare which might leave dozens injured and the University in turmoil.

He may mean it: police may have raided 888 Memorial Drive before these words can be printed and delivered to your door. But there is also a chance that Cox, suspended between the memories of Lawrence Hall and University Hall, may be hoping that the situation will resolve itself without the awful decision.