Michael Harrington, the author of The Other America, has at least a dozen sides to his personality. When he spoke at Winthrop House Sunday night, Harrington discussed poverty with a business-like precision, mixing a surprising realism with his energetic, crusading determination. Afterwards, in private, he was personable and easy-going, full of jokes and boyish charm. Throughout the evening, Harrington seemed entirely befuddled by his recent success.

No matter where he is, Harrington never lets you forget that he is a socialist iconoclast. His speech is spiced with phrases like "our quaint little economic system," "the good ol" American grass-roots system," and "pinch-penny politics." With tongue in check, he mentions "Barry Goldwater socialists"; a second later, he lashes out at the "great many people who profit from poverty in the United States." Always, he thinks in terms of an established structure which dominates not only politics, but all American society. "There is considerable institutional resistance to the 'War against Poverty.' The opposition is tenacious, but their power has to be broken."

Above all, Harrington insists on using public money to combat poverty. He calls the recently enacted tax-cut bill "the most minimal conceivable band-aid," and accuses the conservatives in Congress of devising the "most reactionary possible version of a good idea." The private sector, Harrington says, is just not generating any new jobs, and Washington has yet to realize this.

But Harrington is not just a social critic, he is a constructive and imaginative thinker. The most heartening aspect of his influence on Johnson's "War on Poverty" is that he has succeeded outside the political structure. He is a one-man crusade, conveying an absolute command over every fact, every idea even distantly related to the question of poverty. He can quote statistic after statistic, book after book, and yet always exude his devotion to solving the problem. In the discussion period after his speech, Harrington answered questions knowledgeably and realistically. At the same time he displayed his unmistakable conviction that something must be done at once. He refuses to reject any idea, no matter how implausible it sounds, until it has been tried. As an example, Harrington cellent and creative cooks, for instance, could be paid to teach other poor housewives how to use the meager food they receive. The cooks would get a little much-needed money and the poor would eat better.

Harrington was born in St. Loius in 1929. He attended Holy Cross and Yale Law School, but left New Haven after a year. He began writing for the Catholic Worker in the late 1940's, and at some point during his job with the paper, he began to attend Socialist Party meetings regularly. Since then, he has worked on projects for the Fund for the Republic and written numerous articles for Commonweal.

Harrington has been in Europe for the past ten months (he went abroad "to escape American life"), and displays a charming sense of humor when he describes the trip. In Paris, where he studied and wrote, Harrington adopted the innocently beguiling facial expressions of the French. He loves to tell anecdotes about experiences both here and abroad. He mentioned, for example, an article written in Pravda on the occasion of the Russian publication of The Other America. With obvious delight, Harrington quoted sections from the article: "Although Mr. Harrington is a bourgeois revisionist, he has portrayed the United States accurately. His only failing is that he has neglected the importance of the Communist vanguard in supporting the oppressed poor."

With the royalties from his book (it has sold at least 80,000 copies and has been translated into French, Polish and Russian), Harrington has retired from his post as editor of the Socialist paper, New America, and is writing a new book on decadence in the lower classes. Always modest, he says he had no idea that The Other America would be so influential. When asked if his life is different now that he has become an American cause celebre, Harrington commented only that "it's a little bit more hectic." Although his dedication to the poor forces him to accept speaking invitations, he appears indifferent to the enthusiasm with which he is greeted.

Harrington will probably continue his personal vandetta against poverty. He is only in his thirties, but seems oblivious to the pleasures which success might bring. When he isn't telling stories, discussing politics or literature, Harrington talks about the poor and their problems. All he can do is smile with frustration when forced to talk of himself. "When I applied for a residence permit in France, they actually ushered me past a huge line and took me to the V.I.P.'s window. They thought I was some sort of celebrity!" And then he brushes his short, uncombed hair down over his forehead with an almost embarrassed gesture.