Harvard and the State: Closer Bedfellows

Harvard has always had a unique relationship with the state. Dating back almost to the first-colonial settlements, the University has been accorded privileges no other institution enjoys. The earliest version of the Massachusetts constitution protected, the Yard from state intrusion, and despite several attempts to amend the document the provision is still in effect.

But over the years, Beacon Hill officials have argued that Harvard has abused its special rights. Many single out Harvard's handling of its Medical Area Total Energy Plant construction, citing the University's fight with local residents over the plant's environmental safeguards as the latest in a series of events displaying insensitivity. Furthermore, State House officials blame independently wealthy Harvard for snubbing state politics for national concerns. Adding to strained relations between the parties has been the burgeoning of public educational institutions since the 1960s. The increasing number of state-funded schools has sparked some conflict with the private institutions like Harvard insisting on maintaining state aid.

That the relationship is often confrontational is proven anew each year when legislation is introduced to remove the tax-exempt status of private universities. That issue has been the only one in a long time to bring a Harvard President to Beacon Hill, many recall, Charles W. Eliot delivered a treatise on the need to preserve the independence of academic institutions to the legislature in 1909. President Bok repeated the message before a legislative committee last May.

But though the bills have failed, as one aide on the Education Committee bluntly describes the past few years. "There is a general perception that you don't need us."

The circumstances, however, seem to be changing Robin Schmidt, vice-president for government and community affairs says "there is a realization that under [President Reagan's] new federalism, a number of programs that were Washington-oriented are now Massachusetts-oriented."

The most obvious such issue is student aid. The incident legislators like to point to is an April press conference, at which Bok appeared with other university presidents and six leading legislators to urge support for a state student aid bill. At the conference, Bok stated that the federal government has "in a certain sense, declared war on student aid programs. I can't imagine any year when a state initiative like this would be more important."

Schmidt denies that Harvard has significantly stepped up its state lobbying and liaison work, noting that within the office of government and community relations an associate vice president to deal with the state has been active since Bok created the position when he took office 11 years ago. Five have held the office. State relations has never been a full-time position by itself. Schmidt's office spends much of its working day dealing with Cambridge and community affairs.

He and others give a laundry list of state issues. Harvard has monitored in the past: hazardous waste, DNA research, level of taxation, and of course tax exemption. And since 1967, the University has worked in conjunction with the official state lobbying group for private schools, the Association of Independent Colleges and Universities in Massachusetts.

But lots of people on Beacon Hill say they have seen a change recently. James King, who took office just this past January as Schmidt's latest associate vice president for state affairs, seems largely responsible for the difference.

Anyone closely observing the state Democratic Convention in Springfield three weeks ago would understand why Harvard appointed Jim King. The platform elevated in front of the civic center arena held a limited number of seats, mostly reserved for candidates and their entourage and for big-wigs in the party. But one seat was reserved for King, who--at the request of state party chairman Chester G. Atkins--was floor manager for the weekend. King's official duties for the weekend involved mostly designing the physical layout and taking care of minor crises, such as credentials shortages.

More impressive though, was watching him circulate on the convention floor, where he demonstrated a familiarity with more names and faces--from the campaign managers to the elderly delegates sitting in the gallery--than most of the candidates seeking nomination. "I think there are two or three people here he doesn't know," a King friend said, looking around at the 4000-plus delegates, staff and reporters.

The Western Massachusetts native, of course, built up this network before coming to Harvard. Some acquaintances date back to the early '50s, when, as an adolescent, King "passed out a million handbills" helping his father with union drives. In the early '60s, after finishing college, he went on to work in several state public assistance programs, including ones to help the elderly.

In 1967, King took a job with family friend Sen. Edward M. Kennedy '54, (D-Mass) working as a special assistant in Massachusetts for the next eight years From there, he went to the MBTA board of directors under then Gov Michael S Dukakis. In 1977, he went to work for then-President Jimmy Carter, first as part of a short-term transition team, then as member of the National Transportation Safety Board. Most people working in the State House know King already in one of these other capacities. One legislative aid refers to him as "the Kennedy guy."

With these credentials, King started representing the University at the beginning of the spring semester. But Schmidt stresses that King's contacts were not the major reason he was signed on to the Harvard team. "There were many more candidates for the job who had more experience on Beacon Hill," Schmidt says, "We wanted someone who was experienced and knowledgeable about dealing with the state."

In his five months on the job, King has proven his qualifications. "There wasn't really an attempt to have an ongoing liason," he says. He visits the State House two or three times a week just "talking with the various people, asking them what's happening." Emphasizing that he is not a "lobbyist," King prefers to think of himself as "just providing the facts."

In at least three offices in the Education Committee, staff members--some who go back to the early '70s--say they had never met a Harvard representative until this semester. "With Jim King's presence, things just sort of clicked," Michael A. West, assistant to Rep. James Collins says. "The University gets a perspective articulated over here that it wouldn't ordinarily get," West adds. He further explains that politicians on Beacon Hill "don't identify with Harvard. They're not Ivy League. Jim talks their language."

As a result, West and others laud the University's increased accessibility. When in need of research or other expert resources, they say they now feel comfortable requesting favors through King--before they did not know whom to ask. King says many legislators now even subscribe to the Gazette.

It is difficult and perhaps too early to tell whether the new, close relationship has paid off for Harvard. Too many factors enter into legislative decisions to isolate any one cause, but West says King's personal visit with half a dozen or so legislators helped defeat a bill that would have restricted the use of pound dogs for laboratory work--a provision that could have seriously curtailed Medical School research.

King likes to use a romantic analogy to show why Harvard benefits from his laison work. He recalls. "In high school, one of the more attractive young ladies didn't have a date for the prom. Everybody assumed she already had about 10 offers, so nobody saked her out"." What Harvard can do best to improve state relations, he concludes, is to "let them know that we are here and that we are interested".