The chances are that whenever University-oriented city planners, the Cambridge Advisory Council, or the Cambridge Historical Council rise up against any urban redevelopment, a genial but shrewd character will be at the bottom of it all. Synonymous with the idea of buildings on stilts, with plans for a $100 million project to fill in the Charles River Basin, and with what his enemies might term radical change in general is the name of John Briston Sullivan.

The laconic Sullivan still owns and pays taxes on forty acres of land under water in front of M.I.T. Technically, he is in the "renovating business," which might be called unilateral urban renewal. From his small, brick-front office up Concord Street, he promotes the development of open and run-down areas and holds forth against what he regards as the forces of tenacious conservatism, led by Harvard, a propertied dog in the manger.

A product of Cambridge schools, a former marine, Sullivan played hockey at B.U., and graduated from B.C. and Northeastern Law School. He has seven children, a boy and six girls, and hopes for an even dozen. He is just as ambitious in other ways.

"I grew up with the idea of buildings on stilts," said Sullivan, taking a puff on his cigar. "I want to rebuild Cambridge." Cambridge, he says, has more open space than any city around, and he has taken upon himself the task of filling it. Because he has scored one major victory (and several minor ones), he is calmly optimistic, despite the strong opposition that is apt to greet his ideas. Although thwarted in his attempt on the waters of the Charles, he registered a smashing success with his motel (now the Treadway) on stilts over a parking lot in Brattle Square. The new management is already planning to add several more stories, and the parking is just fine.

The same forces that defeated Sullivan at the Charles and lost in Brattle Square now oppose him on the northern edge of Harvard Square, where he hopes to construct the fifteen story office building on stilts. He is by no means daunted, however. There would be no traffic or parking problem there, he asserts. The city could merely knock out on-the-street parking, which the building could assimilate. The traffic situation would be no worse than it is now with cars entering and leaving the present lot. He noted that a University constructing a multistory medical center perhaps ought not to cry wolf at a multi-story office building in the same area.

The fifteen story structure is in line with the dramatic change that Sullivan asks of Cambridge, although the city may not reciprocate. Does he have an organized plan of development? "Right up here," he said, and pointed to his head. His problem is quite simple. "The city is controlled by Harvard and M.I.T. Just look at the CAC: Pusey, Killian, Mrs. Kerby-Miller. When I first started, they were going to help me; but then they knew what I was doing all the time, and blocked me. Anything that's good, and Harvard can't have it, they oppose. When someone moves in to develop an area, they come racing in. They preach all over what to do, but they don't practice what they preach. They have ability, money, and prestige, but they need bold leadership. Cambridge and Harvard could be tremendous together, but they're in a little shell of their own."

The universities and local government represent fear of change to Sullivan. "New England is the most backward area in the country. We have the money here, but we lend it out at eight per cent. I blame the young people. We need someone here like Richard Lee."

Sullivan is all for urban renewal and cooperative housing (a major feature of the New Haven program), but himself will not undertake projects on the run-down outskirts of the city. "I don't want to displace people who can't afford it." Also, as Harvard knows, land is extremely expensive out there. To develop it properly, he believes, the city would have to take the initiative.

Where the University (perhaps a rival construction company) does not own around the Square, and on other open areas nearby, the initiative will continue to be Sullivan's. It seems likely that academic opposition will also continue to be his. His next major project calls for a parking lot under the Cambridge Common. He might get it through, too.