"WHY don't you say," said NAC leader Mike Ansara, "'Former War Criminals Go To Washington To Advise Their Successors'?"

"For whatever it matters," said Francis M. Bator, professor of Political Economy, "the kids are right. There is an establishment of men who have influence and power in Washington. Some of us here at Harvard have been working on the inside for a long time. But since Nixon's Cambodia speech, we are ready for political action. The inside game is over as far as we're concerned."

Perhaps the most remarkable of all the anti-war activities involving Harvard people recently was an odyssey to Washington a week ago by a dozen highly distinguished senior Harvard Faculty members, most of them with long-established ties in the government power structure, to publicly lobby for the first time against the war. They insisted that all their meetings-including an emotional encounter with their old associate Henry Kissinger-be on the record. And they went to encourage congressional action to curtail the foreign-policy-making power of the President-"Something most of us would have found horrifying even three weeks ago," said Richard Neustadt, professor of Government and author of Presidential Power. The dozen associated themselves with the Peace Action Strike led by charismatic professor Everett Mendelsohn-"which strikes us as a pretty radical thing for a bunch of old men to do"-but used their Washington connections and smaller size to get themselves in to see people the larger group couldn't.

Bator explained all this in his Littauer Center office the day before the group went down. His office is full of memories of the Johnson administration, in which he was from 1965 through 1967 Deputy Special Assistant to the President for National Security Affairs in charge of European politics and international economic affairs. A dapper, distinguished-looking man, he speaks with a Mendelsohn-esque elegance and just a touch of European accent. (His biography lists him as being from Hungary via Groton.) His articulate speech is punctuated for effect with well-placed proletarianism. ("I'm willing to bet 100 to one considerable sums of money that all they'll find in Cambodia is a couple of holes in the ground and some Hershey bars.")

Bator said of the trip, "It might seem a very nuancy thing for someone who wants to burn down University Hall, but for us middle-aged squares to go to Washington in public like this and tell them to Get The Hell Out Of Cambodia. Stop The Idiot Bombing, and reaffirm the road being taken in the past to withdraw all troops, is a big deal. Those of us formerly of the Cabinet and subcabinet level are here-by announcing that we are no longer playing the private game. We publicly regard the change in policy as intolerable. All of us will engage in very active political mobilizing for support of candidates against the war. Galbraith's been playing this game for a long time, but for us this kind of grandstanding is a new role."

Most of the professors flew down from Cambridge together Thursday evening, leaving the emergency Faculty meeting before any decision had been reached on what to do about grades and exams. Edwin O. Reischauer, University Professor and former ambassador to Japan, and Nobel Laureate Edward M. Purcell, Gerhard Gade University Professor, were going to meet them in Washington. Dean May, a professor of History and former Army historian, couldn't leave the Faculty meeting but planned to fly down Friday in time for the Kissinger confrontation.

At their rooms in the Hay-Adams Hotel, on Lafayette Park directly across from the White House, those there Thursday evening spent six hours planning strategy for the following day-mainly for their meeting with "Henry." It was a highly intense discussion between some of the most noted intellects of the country; they consumed two bottles of Cutty Sark Scotch in the process.

TYPICALLY, the first one up for breakfast at 7:30 Friday morning was Thomas Schelling, professor of Economics. Schelling, an almost frail-looking man with a crew cut shorter than Ernie May's, was the person who brought the group together. He was also the closest associate in the group of Henry Kissinger. He doesn't look or act like the leader type. His conversation is studded with long, long pauses which make you think he's probably forgotten the problem at hand; in fact, he's more probably solved it. Throughout the day he issued directives with quiet authority which the other distinguished professors obviously respected. After ordering English muffins and glancing at the sports section of the Washington Post, Schelling pulled out his yellow legal pad and started to figure out who should go at 9:30 to see Senator Edward Brooke, and who should join the Mendelsohn group of Faculty members, students, and employees for a meeting in the New Senate Auditorium. (The schedule for the rest of the day included Senator Edward Kennedy '54 at 10:30, lunch with Kissinger at 1:30 p. m., Undersecretary of Defense David Packard-a last-minute addition-at 3:30 p. m., and Undersecretary of State Eliot Richardson at 5:30 p. m.)

Purcell and Reischauer had been unable to come to Washington, so the final group included Schelling, Bator, May (who hadn't arrived), Seymour Martin Lipset (government and Social Relations), Richard Neustadt (government aide to President Truman), George Kistiakowsky (chemistry, chief science advisor to President Eisenhower), William Capron (associate dean of the Kennedy School, former assistant director of the budget), Adam Yarmolinsky (law, advisor to Presidents Kennedy and Johnson), Paul Doty (biochemistry, former member of the President's Science Advisory Committee), Konrad Bloch (biochemistry, Nobel laurcate), Frank Westheimer (chemistry), Gerald Holton (physics), and Michael Walzer (government, sterling dove credentials).

Kistiakowsky soon strolled in with his copy of the Post, which the Hay-Adams sells right in the dining room. "There are many ways of changing things by operating through channels," he said in his thick accent, towering over his orange juice. "Frequently they are by far the most efficient. This method probably tends to harder attitudes. But at a point one decides that sort of thing is hopeless. I've reached that point." Asked if he'd rather see Brooke or join Mendelsohn, Kistiakowsky said. "I'd like to see Brooke. I saw Kennedy last week, so it will be a nice change." Others arrived, bought a Post, and sat down. "What a strange bunch we've got today," the maitre d' whispered to his assistant.

Walzer brought his colleagues up to date on the results of the Faculty meeting, commenting, "There was an cageyness to make a deal with students-we leave you alone, you leave us alone. It's not an honorable arrangement." Lipset, a large man with thick black glasses, ate his mushroom omelette largely in silence. As they left breakfast for a final strategy meeting, several stopped at chat briefly with Carl Kaysen, director of the Institute for Advanced Studies in Princeton and frequently mentioned Harvard presidential candidate. "I was just here having breakfast with Daniel Patrick [Moynihan]," Kaysen said cheerfully.

Waiting for the elevator, Walzer said, "No maps. We won't look at any maps." Then he suddenly looked around and reflected, "You know, I've never come to Washington before to do anything but carry a picket sign around the White House,"

Shortly before 9 a. m. the entire group, including those who had not made it up for breakfast, poured out of the elevator and stood on the sunny sidewalk as Schelling choreographed the taxicabs, and sent his men off into battle. On the way over to the Old Senate Office Building for their meeting with Brooke, Schelling and Neustadt discussed pipe tobacco. The cabbies said, "I hope you gentlemen are going to be out of here before all these students arrive for the big demonstration tomorrow."

THE SENATE Office Building was swarming with Harvard people-all from the Mendelsohn group, trying to make appointments to see their various Senators. Delegations from the Harvard Law School and Newton High School were being put off by Brooke's secretary as the professors were escorted under a picture of Brooke and Nixon arm-in-arm and into the Senator's office. Brooke, elegantly tailored and smiling energetically, had barely begun, "Thanks very much for coming gentlemen," when Schelling broke in:

"Senator we're all appalled at the turn of events in Southeast Asia. What Nixon's done is at least as bad as Johnson's actions. We're expressing concern to everybody we could find. We have lost trust in the executive branch."

Neustadt puffed on his pipe and said, "Some of us have regarded the executive branch as our home for twenty or thirty years. This is a hard turn to come to-to be here urging congressional intervention which two or three weeks ago we would have regarded as unacceptable."

Capron said, "If this had happened while I was in the budget department, I would have been appalled."

Kistiakowsky said, "We ran into Javits in the cafeteria. He said he felt the same as we do about the need now for Senate action."

Scymour Martin Lipset said, "There is a credibility gap. The President's position in unredeemable. We're not just reporting the situation on campus. It's much, much more,"

Bloch added, "It's an issue of morale and morality in the country."

After ten minutes, Brooke regained the floor. "You're well aware," he said, "that I share your grave concern and frustration. I know your experience in the executive. Many of us in the Senate have been meeting regularly to try to reverse the President's policy. I was frankly shocked. I could scarcely believe my cars. Why, Nixon had disarmed the students. They'd packed up here just last week and gone home." He was referring to the closing of the New Mobe office. This was the first of many times that day the professors would be treated as representatives of a discontented academic community, though this was exactly what they didn't want.

Brooke said he had gone to the White House with the rest of the joint armed services committee and had spoken to the President, who had insisted that the invasion had been called to protect U. S. forces. "I can't believe that," Brooke told the professors. "I don't like to say the President is not telling the truth, but it does seem as if the reason he did it was because he has the support of the present Cambodian government."

Schelling said, "Then he even lied to members of the armed services committee."

Brooke quickly interjected, "I do not question the President's integrity. I believe the military sold him a bill of goods. They asked him how he would vote on the upcoming legislation to limit the President's power to wage war in Southeast Asia. He said he believed the Sherman-Cooper bill that would cut off expenditures for any military activity in Cambodia would surely pass, and that he supported it. Likewise, he said, he might be favorable to repeal of the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution. "However," he said, "the one move I'm most reluctant to take is the one the students mostly want-the McGovern-Hatfield Amendment [which would bar appropriations for any military operations in Southeast Asia except withdrawal of troops]. I share your concern about the constitutionality of that method of pressuring the President. Why, the students want you to just get out-to pick up and leave Southeast Asia!" He reached for a globe to demonstrate. The professors grimaced.

"I have not yet reached a decision on what to do," Brooke said. "Coupled with my idealism is a bitter pragmatism, gentlemen. I know I can't feed this to the students, though. What would you suggest?"

Neustadt suggested, "For the first time I can remember, we have what Reston has always been heralding-a constitutional crisis."

Schelling said, "What Nixon took is a risky bet. And even if he wins, he would be winning on a bad bet so it doesn't make any difference."

Neustadt said, "What you need now is the dramatic equivalent of the firingof Douglas MacArthur. And it has to come in legislation."

Lipset mentioned "The success of Vietnam in recreating Communist Youth movements all over Europe."

Schelling said. "I have no confidence that this is the worst thing he'll try to do."

Bloch said. "We have a long, hot summer ahead of us."

"Thank you gentlemen." Brooke said. "One last question: Are you Harvard people going to have commencement this year?"

KENNEDY'S office was about twice as big as Brooke's and twice as crowded. On the bookshelf in the waiting room, the Harvard University Catalogue stood next to the Selected Writings of Bolivar. Bator, Walzer. Yarmolinsky and Holton reappeared after an hour with the Mendelsohn group, which they reported was over 1000-strong. Kennedy greeted them without the aid of a suit coat or an administrative assistant, and led them into his office. He apologized for being late, saying he had been lining up Coretta King and Judy Collins-"she's the new Joan Bacz, you know"-for a Kent State memorial service that night. This time, Neustadt started off.

"We want to tell you where we are: Cambodia was worse than the worst decisions of Lyndon Johnson."

"I'hat must be pretty bad." Kennedy laughed.

Neustadt continued. "We're not prepared to work quietly anymore. We want you to know: we want Henry to know. Civilian control of the military is sufficiently at stake that congressional control of the President is urgently needed. This leaves us executive-branch lovers in tough shape-but it has to be said." He gulped at his pipe.

Kennedy said. "I've met with a few student leaders, and I've got a terrific insight into the intensity of student involvement. I think personally that now's the time to get something through Congress. You gentlemen have extraordinary contacts: you could work wonders." There ensued a long discussion of tactics. Kennedy said the important thing was to get as many votes as possible for the Hatfield-Mc-Govern amendment now, even if it loses. "We can work around the gymnastics of letting people change their minds later." As the names flew around the room, Bator and Yarmolinksi, at least, were clearly enjoying themselves tremendously. This part of the game was not entirely foreign to them.

Holton said, "This is a watershed. These gentlemen don't do things like this very easily. And most students don't even believe in Congress anymore. Congress can save the President from himself, and save the credibility of the system. That's why action on your part is so important. All the time-scales now coincide. We have an election in 1972. The remaining young people who aren't alienated now will be if the war isn't over by that time."

Neustdat added. "I think it's safe to say we're afraid."

But Schelling countered. "If Cambodia succeeds, it will be a disaster not just because my Harvard office may be burned down when I get home, but it will even be a disaster in Laird and Packard's own terms. It's not the speech, not the action even, but what it all says about the way decisions are being made, that makes old conservatives like Neustadt and myself come out of the woodwork."

Kennedy suggested they talk to Senate majority leader Mike Mansfield. When they mentioned it might be difficult to get an appointment for the next few days. Kennedy picked up the phone and had them an appointment in ten minutes. As they rushed out the door. Kennedy handed Capron a flyer about the memorial service.

"That's the first time I've ever been leafleted by a Senator." Capron said.

IT WAS quite a sight to see twelve senior Harvard Faculty members chasing down the halls of the Senate Office building, shouting at each other like little boys, "Wait for me!" and "Well then keep up, dammit!" As they crowded into the elevator. Bator explained "Mansfield knows we favor the other side-the executive. He will be impressed that the author of Presidential Power (nods to Neustadt) is going to him to say that he is now ready to risk 'monocracy.'" The little electric trolley that runs between the Senate office buildings and the Capitol is fun for all ages. The gang poured aboard. Bator smiled. "The last time I rode this trolley, I was lobbying for some obscure textile bill and I thought I was on a foray into enemy territory."

The meeting with Mansfield was brief. In the cab on the way back, Neustadt said, "H'es a man who gave the soundest advice of any senior member of government in 1964 and 65. But no one listened."

Bator said, "Unlike other Senators, he never grandstands. On the McGovern amendment he's playing majority leader while trying to build bipartisan support. He realizes how vulnerable Congress is when playing with Constitutional issues while 'our boys are dying.' He's just pushing for as much as he can get. But he just has no charisma."

"We really need Ted now." Neustadt sighed.

The cab rounded a corner and the White House came into view-which cheered them both up considerably. "Since 1945 I've been either in the White House or next door. To be doing this-" a wave of his pipe at the activities of the day "-boy, it's something else."

THE MOMENT they'd all been waiting for was now at hand-the meeting with Kissinger. Dean May had arrived at the hotel in time for a last-minute strategy session, so at about 1:15 they all strolled together across Lafayette Park and into the White House basement to "shock Henry into realizing he's living on the other side of the moon." Will Henry realize he's living on the other side of the moon? The Kissinger confrontation and others in Tuesday's CRIMSON.