Reporters' Notebook Extra

As their grades plummeted to unexplored depths, Crimson reporters applied "maximum force" to coverage of the presidential search committee for ten months. During those long months, several grusome details were withheld from the pages of the daily newspaper to protect the lives and reputations of innocent people. In the interest of full disclosure, The Crimson presents this special presidential search edition of The Reporters' Notebook.

*****

"I look every day [in The Crimson] to find out who the next president of Harvard is going to be ..."

--Outgoing President Derek C. Bok, joking with reporters before a February interview.

Blood Oath

Following an early February meeting of the governing boards, an overseer told a Crimson reporter that University officials had extracted secrecy oaths from board members by rather arcane methods. Asked about the status of the presidential search, the overseer shook his head sadly. "They took my blood and everything," he said with a resigned air.

Keystone Cops

The scene at the Ritz-Carlton hotel in Boston on the night of February 10 ended up more like something out of the Keystone Cops than the tea party the search committee had probably hoped for. Crimson reporters caught wind of the committee's plans to interview former Princeton provost--and now Harvard president-designate--Neil L. Rudenstine at the swanky establishment and had the place staked out well in advance.

In the hotel's lobby, one reporter started chatting with Leverett House Master John E. Dowling '57, who said he was at the hotel to eat lunch with his wife. Acting Dean of the Faculty Henry Rosovsky, a member of the search committee, came up to talk to Dowling, but when he caught sight of the reporter and recognized her, a panicked look crossed his face and he quickly escaped the lobby.

Crimson reporters traversed the building in search of the committee's meeting and located it in the Back Bay room. To avoid suspicion, they quickly left the floor. But by the time one intrepid journalist used a stairwell to return to the hallway adjacent to the conference room, a stern man with folded arms and wearing a black suit had been posted outside the meeting. The reporter evaded the guard's queries, but to no avail. In the hotel lobby, an employee dressed in a pristine uniform approached the journalist and asked him if he was a guest of the hotel. The Ritz had apparently put the reporter under surveillance, as the employee knew exactly which floors the reporter had been on.

By the end of the night, hotel employees who said they were acting on orders from the search committee had ejected a total of three Crimson reporters from the building and warned them never to return.

As the committee exited the hotel through the main entrance, reporters who had been laying in wait for the group scrambled into action. As they peppered the officials with questions, one corporation member walked into a tree while complimenting the Crimson as a "fine paper." One eager reporter became so excited that he bungled the interviewee's name, calling him "Mr. Rubenstein."

Later, the future president of the world's most prestigious institution of higher learning dove into the back of a limousine like a common criminal.

Photogenic?

Although some candidates--like Rudenstine and Andrus Professor of Genetics Philip Leder '56--were notably camera-shy, others were less coy about having their picture in The Crimson. In fact, after The Crimson ran a photo of Baker Professor of Economics Martin S. Feldstein '61, someone from his office called to complain that the photo was unflattering. She promised to send over a better one.

Crash Derby

Crimson Newscar One, a white 1987 Ford Tempo, suffered a damaged front axle and a flat tire while in hot pursuit of search committee members during a rain shower. The driver--who hoped the escapade would reveal the committee's meeting place--miscalculated the proper speed for a turn on a ramp at New York's LaGuardia Airport and the Newscar slammed into a curb. The reporters continued the chase on foot.

"Take his film."

--Search committee member Robert G. Stone Jr. '45, instructing a security guard to confiscate the film in a Crimson reporter's camera. Stone was photographed leaving a search committee meeting in New York City on March 13.

"I am shocked and appalled that a senior member of the Corporation would say such a thing."

--An indignant Harvard administrator, commenting on the Stone incident.

It's Epps!

Dean of Students Archie C. Epps III seemed especially pleased to see the news about Rudenstine in The Crimson before spring break. Passing Crimson President Rebecca L. Walkowitz that day, Epps tipped his distinctive hat and said in his distinctive accent, "Congratulations, President." He later made a rare visit to our offices and purchased four copies of the newspaper, saying to a reporter, "I hope you're right."

Crash Derby II

Crimson Newscar Two, a red 1987 Subaru station wagon that rode like a dream, was lost in the line of duty in an accident on I-95 South in Fairfield, Conn. In the accident, two Crimson reporters narrowly escaped death when a roll of insulation fell from the back of a red Chevrolet pick-up truck driven by Brian J. Mola of Norwalk, Conn.

The Newscar swerved to avoid the insulation and smashed into and bounced off a Jersey barrier, spinning across three lanes of oncoming traffic and coming to rest against a wire guard rail in the breakdown lane.

One of the reporters, shaken, asked the other, "Are you OK?"

But singleminded in his pursuit of the story, the second's only response was to ask, "How are we going to get to New York?"

A Connecticut state trooper responded to a call from The Crimson's cellular telephone.

The car ended up at Circle Towing in Fairfield. The intrepid reporters walked two miles to reach the nearest train station and reached New York in time to cover a search committee meeting.

Monkey Business?

A lengthy stakeout at the posh Stanhope Hotel in New York yielded more comments from hotel security personnel than from search committee members. One hotel employee, whose nametag identified him as "Jose," accused Crimson reporters of being private detectives attempting to catch a man emerging from the hotel with a woman other than his wife.

After one of the reporters assured the security guard that their intentions were entirely respectable, he adopted a friendlier attitude and suggested a few hiding places.

Not in Kansas Anymore

Amid the Crimson newsroom's frenzied, Thursday night, pre-scoop atmosphere, a reporter telephoned the Wayland home of Barbara Ebert, a particularly enigmatic employee of the governing boards who is known to frequent its super-secret 1000 Mass. Ave. satellite office. A man who identified himself as Ebert's husband said she would be home soon but that the couple would be going out to dinner to celebrate her birthday. When the reporter called back later that night asking for Ebert, the story had changed.

"She's taken a flight to Wichita," the man said.

"Is this some kind of birthday trip?" the reporter asked.

"Yes it is," said the man after a long pause.

Yeah, Wichita. Right.

"You guys have been, I know, very industrious and hardworking and inventive in trying to follow what's a very big story around Harvard... I recognize the obligation you have as journalists... I'm sure [my silence] is irritating to you and your colleagues."

--Search committee chair and spokesperson Charles P. Slichter '45, reached at the Omni Netherland Plaza in Cincinnati, Ohio the night before The Crimson identified Rudenstine as the committee's nominee. Slichter was attending an American Physical Society convention.

The Real Scoop

An inebriated WHRB staffer wandered into The Crimson late on the night before the story ran that pegged Rudenstine as the search committee's nominee. "We scooped you!" he boasted, referring not to the impending presidential pick, but to the radio station's early report of the announcement that Vice President and General Counsel Daniel Steiner would step down sometime next year.

Paging Mr. Feldstein

The next morning, a Crimson reporter telephoned San Juan International Airport and was put through to the gate where Feldstein was about to board a flight to St. Thomas. The reporter could hear Feldstein being paged on the public address system, but there was no response. A few minutes later, a gate agent took the caller's name and phone number and then checked with a man who sounded like Feldstein. She then came back on the line to say that the gate was very busy and that she would make sure that the First Class flight attendant would get a message to the presidential also-ran. Feldstein did not respond.

Reading Between the Lines

Security was tight at the overseers' Sunday morning meeting at the Part Avenue Plaza Hotel in New York--the meeting at which the Rudenstine pick was confirmed. No one was even allowed into the elevators without permission of a security guard armed with a list of all participants in the meeting. Rudenstine, who reportedly did not attend the meeting, was not on the list. But the future president's name was highly conspicuous by its absence. Just below Rosovsky's name on the carefully double-spaced list was a one-line gap--precisely where "Rudenstine" would have appeared in alphabetical order. Suspicious. Very suspicious.

Plugging Leaks

Early on, the Harvard brass had realized it needed to plug the leaks in the presidential search process. The task fell to Secretary to the Corporation Robert Shenton and University Attorney Michael W. Roberts. It was a thankless task for both men. A scene observed by reporters at the Waldorf seemed to characterize the effort. As Harvard's governing boards dined with Rudenstine inside the hotel's Louis XVI room, Roberts sat alone in the anteroom reading that day's New York Times. Inside the paper was an article reporting that Rudenstine was the search committee's choice, a fact which Roberts and Shenton had worked hard to keep from the press.

Big Mouth

Asked about attendance at Rudenstine's confirmation, one overseer responded, "There was a quorum." Turning to a fellow governing board member, he asked, "Did I say too much?"

"I didn't know The Crimson stayed at the Waldorf."

--Acting Dean of the Faculty Henry Rosovsky, encountering a reporter outside an elevator in the Waldorf-Astoria hotel in New York City.

"The Crimson has been extraordinarily enterprising. Only Harvard could have a student newspaper that would be so persistent, clever, annoying and ultimately successful."

--Visibly moved search committee member Judith Richards Hope, physically embracing a Crimson reporter after Rudenstine's final confirmation.

Junior?

After Rudenstine's confirmation, Slichter commented to one reporter on the fact that The Crimson had incorrectly identified him in several articles as "Charles P. Slichter Jr. '45." "Charles P. Slichter Junior? I'm not a 'junior,'" Slichter said, chortling, to a Crimson reporter. "My father was Sumner Slichter."

Irregular Weekly

Slichter, the search committee chair, did receive at least one phone call from the Harvard Independent. Slichter reportedly admitted that he had never heard of the publication and promptly declined to comment.

"The supposedly hush-hush Harvard search committee leaked like the Titanic, like the Weld administration even. But it seems even those enterprising young journalists at The Crimson (who were given full credit for their scoop on the Rudenstine story by The New York Times, but not The Boston Globe) missed at least one potential candidate on the presidential short list."--The Cambridge Chronicle on March 28, referring to former Mayor Alfred E. Velucci who said, "I thought I was going to get the job. They passed me by."

"In spite of my recent behavior, I'm not instinctively an elusive person"--Neil Rudenstine