 by Dr. Jeffrey Lant Author's program note. Harvard University, my alma mater, doesn't inaugurate presidents like other, lesser institutions of exalted learning. By no means. They consecrate and install latter-day deities, mere administrators no longer, but the dynamos that rule from Harvard Yard the Great Republic and every other nation and significant institution everywhere on Earth. That is why such inaugurals, but infrequently rendered, are more important than the mere coronations of ancient dynasties. Such dynasties with the most venerable sovereigns are but temporal. Harvard is eternal and its presidents celestial. The inauguration of Lawrence Summers, Autumn, 2001. The scene was perfect Harvard... academic gowns from every great university on Earth looking like giant flowers... no one marched to their appointed places as requested; they ambled arm-in-arm instead; the brilliantly colored foliage from the great trees fell softly down upon us, a great institution participating in this passing of the torch... everything was as it should be... everything except for President Summer's eagerly awaited remarks... in the event bombastic, inelegant, impolitic, awkward... Thus as these ultra discerning worthies, masters all of nuance and exegesis, listened as their anointed leader blundered through his remarks, the audience grew restive, abashed, and even chagrined. The 27th president made his inaugural address, but it was in truth his inaugural blunder, the first of many. I turned to my colleague and, sotto voce, predicted stormy weather for Mr. Summers. One didn't need a Ph.D. in prognostication to make what became in due course a gross understatement. What should have been a glorious event, historic, High Harvard and grand, made us all not merely disappointed, but sad, let-down and angry that our Harvard was not so fair that day as she had every right to anticipate and expect. Its bright promise was overcast and glum. ... until Dr. Richard C. Levin, President of Yale since 1993, got up to present fraternal greetings and timely observations. And not a moment too soon. I am embarrassed to tell you, I knew nothing about this man that day; in my defense I must stress that presidents of Yale are not first priorities to Crimson alumni. Still... it was a lacuna. On this day, economist Levin came to praise, exhort and welcome fellow economist Summers to the rank and status of Ivy League president, to all loyal Ivies the very top of the greasy pole. And so Levin, elegantly dressed, looking every inch who he was, custodian of one of the Great Republic's greatest institutions, a man of distinction and undoubted presence rose... and from the very first words he uttered we were all on beloved terra cognita, dismayed no longer. Every word he said was le mot juste, carefully selected, carefully stated. He was at once eloquent, informed, genteel, amusing, insightful, a leader who knew his audience like the back of his hand. He made the right allusions, his point of view perfect to the occasion, with just the right amount of immemorial raillery, for the rivalries of generations must be honored and sustained. I was not alone in that vast audience in wishing we were inaugurating the gentleman of polished manners, eloquent and graceful turns of phrase, and the divinity that doth hedge instead of the often clueless, bumptious president so ill-equipped for the role that his tenure when it ended in rancor and disarray after just 5 years in 2006 was the shortest since the university's earliest days. Oh, yes, we coveted Levin for Harvard and to preserve, protect and defend our profound interest in the matter. But Dr. Levin loved Yale, although Yale nearly missed the opportunity to be loved by one whose love was worth the having. Low-key Dr. Levin? You're kidding! Yale before Levin was an institution at risk; critics of old Eli, its whys and wherefores, were legion. If Yale were a great galleon, its leaks were prodigious and threatening. Yale needed, Yale had to have a "known" leader... someone capable of overawing the nay-sayers and getting on with the massive overhaul and reformation required. "Rick" Levin wanted the job... but he was no hero, no glamor boy, no titan of education, no household name. No one felt he was up to the job of working successfully with factious faculty, or liberating New Haven from ghetto status and urban blight by undertaking a sincere and dedicated policy of working together with skeptical community officials and residents. And what about the worrisome budget shortfalls, the disheartening staff cuts, falling applications and facilities which badly needed renovation and repair? It was a mighty job, and Levin didn't look like he had the necessary skills, stomach, and salience. And so Yale's presidential search committee repeatedly, embarrassingly postponed the deadline for naming a new president, hoping McCawber-like, that something would turn-up, thereby showing exactly what they thought of Rick Levin, the man who became one of the greatest of Yale's presidents and a model for beleaguered and challenged college presidents everywhere. His accomplishments are staggering, the more so because the honest and honorable man was not destroyed by ego and arrogance. He is today what he was at the beginning, a man who loves Yale and is happy to do what is called for for her immediate improvement and long-term well-being. Here are just some of his notable achievements: Item: He lead the school's largest building and renovation program since the 1930s, expanding Yale's financial aid programs and global activities. Item: He measurably improved the university's historically difficult relationship with its unions and built necessary and long overdue partnerships with the too often unregarded and dismissed city of New Haven. Item: Yale's endowment went from $3.2 billion in 1993 to $19.4 billion this year. Item: A homebuyers program started in 1994 offered financial incentives to buy homes in the city and more than 1,000 Yale faculty and staff have participated. Item: About 70 percent of the space on campus has been partially or completely renovated, including all 12 of its residential colleges, with plans to build two more. "Rick Levin is simply one of the world's great leaders," Indra Nooyi, chief executive of PepsiCo. Now Richard C. Levin is stepping down, 65 years old, the longest serving president in the Ivy League. He says it's time to take up the next challenge of his life, writing a book of reflections on higher education and economic policy. He also wants to travel some, and I trust the Overseers will grant him a Harvard degree honoris causa so he'll have reason to return to Cambridge. When John F. Kennedy got such a degree from Yale, he quipped that he now had the best of both worlds, a Harvard education and a Yale degree. I trust that Levin will at the next Commencement be so honored, ready to say that now he, too, has the best of both worlds, a Yale education and a Harvard degree. For this I shall make it a particular point to return to the Tercentenary Theater in Harvard Yard where I first encountered this remarkable man, whose unstinting love affair with Yale has been so helpful to so many, so enhancing the Great Republic and the world. Musical accompaniment to this article. Here there were choices aplenty ranging from "Boola Boola" (composed in 1900 by Allan M Hirsch Yale '01) to "The Whiffenpoof Song" sung by Rudy Vallee '27, America's first pop star. But in the end I had to go with Cole Porter '13 because, like the Coliseum and Cellophane, Rick Levin, "You're The Top". Go to any search engine and find Cole Porter belting it out for you! |
