Another problem for Planned Parenthood is Baird's own willingness to give contraceptive to the unmarried. "We would waive this consideration," says Stephen J. Plank, assistant professor of population studies and president of the state chapter of Planned Parenthood, "if we thought Baird had a better chance to win his point. It doesn't make sense to violate our charter to support such a risky case as his, though." Planned Parenthood prefers to handle the problem of unmarrieds, Plank says, by "not investigating the marital status of those who come to us for advice. We recommend all such individuals to physicians who can help them."

Baird's resentment of those who haven't rallied to his cause keeps coming back to his sense of his own obscurity. And he talks of his frustrations with Harvard students with the same air: "Harvard represents to me the hypocrisy of society. They all have their noses in the air over there. They are so impressed with themselves they forget that there are poor people who are suffering because of this law."

"That isn't to say, though, that many Harvard and Radcliffe students have not come to me for help. The day I spoke at Harvard last spring two couples approached me and I helped them. I have a clinic in New York that deals with birth control problems. Anyone who calls me I'll send to physicians. If you can read between the lines, you'll know I send them for abortions. If I didn't do this, they would get involved with quacks."

Baird stutters and often acts defensively on a rostrum, he is emotional and self-defensive on a radio interview, and he strikes many Harvard students as churlish. Baird knows this. Despite his manner, it's hard not to admire what Baird has done and what he hopes to do. At one point, he handed me a letter from a poor mother in Rochester who had just learned of her daughter's pregnancy:

"I became so desperate at this news," one paragraph read, "that I decided to try the hot water and turpentine method someone had told me about. We poured one-half gallon of turpentine in a pail and added scalding water over this. Priscilla sat on the paid and I wrapped a blanket around her. The fumes were supposed to make her abort. This was done three times a day for three days. The only thing that happened was that I burnt her bottom raw."

"This is what people can't see," Baird said. "Until I challenged that law in New York this woman's daughter could not have received help except from a quack." He went on to future goals. "I want to see the day when no child will be unwanted and unloved. I want to see welfare costs go down. Birth control clinics ought to be set up in poor neighborhoods. These places should be in pleasant, helpful surroundings -- no cold clinical atmosphere. They should operate twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, so that people don't have to miss work. And all services should be free."

"I'm going to stay in Massachusetts whether I go to jail or not," he added. "My mobile clinic is coming down from New York in a few weeks and I'm going to set it up in Roxbury."

Baird was interrupted by the phone. "OK now, one thing at a time. Is it your wife or your girlfriend -- your girlfriend. I can't help you by phone. Where are you calling from? Western Reserve University in Cleveland. And your girl? She's in Portland. Can you get down here in the next few days? No, I must see the girl in person. I want to make sure this is what she wants. Now get her down to Boston by Tuesday, then. I'll give you my number. Tell her to call when she arrives here. Bye now, and don't worry, my friend."

That was the first of three such calls to come through while I was with Baird. "I'm not enthusiastic about abortions." Baird told me. "What I would like to do is make sure abortions don't have to happen, by making contraceptives available to those who want them. In the meantime, I can refer people who ask my help to competent doctors. Of course, what I'm doing is a serious state offense, but these folks need someone."

He got up and paced across the room. "You see, here I am helping others and no one is helping me. Sure, I know these people are behind me, but they're so far behind I can't see them. And you know, many folks think I'll get ten years in prison for what I have done. I'm trying to help humanity and I'm getting crucified."

The melodramatic tone never disappears from Baird's harsh complaints, but it is understandable. This time he might really get thrown to the wolves. So he is scared of the ten year jail sentence, of course, but you can also sense an extra measure of fright and incredulity in his voice, because to his mind, at least, nobody is even watching.