OPINIONS about Archie Epps, dean of Students, are plentiful. Most of them apply to the image he projects from the inside of University Hall. His conspicuous silence on the set of issues particular to Harvard blacks has confused some students and alienated others. Epps, however, defines his commitment to blacks on his own terms, with little concern about the image that this creates.

Archie Epps is, to be sure, an inside man. He dressed like one and affects the urbane manner that one associates with a Harvard dean. In fact, many have concluded that he left his blackness back in the Louisiana bayous. He is also cautious, responding carefully to questions, meticulously framing answers that convey just the "right" impression to the listener. His voice is even and well-trained. It betrays not a hint of Epps's deep South roots.

Epps arrived at Harvard in 1958 via Talladega College, a small, black school in Alabama, where he majored in psychology. He later received a degree at the Divinity School. In 1963, he became an assistant dean of the College, serving an apprenticeship of sorts under John U. Monro '34, then dean of the College and now director of freshman studies at a black college in Alabama. Epps describes himself during this period as a "back-bencher" at meetings of the Administrative Board.

"In those days you were called a 'baby' dean and you were allowed to attend meetings of the Board and listen to the cases being discussed by the senior tutors and the 'big' deans," Epps says. "John Monro told me that I should keep my mouth shut for one year and just listen."

Monro and Epps became good friends, and through their relationship, Epps learned the administrative ropes. But their first encounter some years earlier had not been quite so chummy. "I first came to know John Monro when we were arguing with Harvard College about the founding of the Harvard-Radcliffe Association of African and Afro-American students," says Epps. At the time, Epps says, Monro was unwilling--"as I would today be unwilling"--to sanction an all-black undergraduate organization.

In pressing for recognition of Afro by the University, Epps and other blacks explicity stated that the organization was to be all-black. At that time, there were more Africans than American blacks at Harvard, and the independence movements in Africa were very much in the news. The disagreement ended with a compromise, giving Afro a freedom comparable to that of Harvard's final clubs, the right to select its members by vote.

In 1968, Epps published The Speeches of Malcolm X at Harvard. The book includes all three of Malcolm X's Harvard speeches as well as a long essay by Epps analyzing his rhetoric and ideas. By this time Monro had resigned as dean of Harvard College to assume his post at Miles. But he and Epps had apparently solidified their relationship along the way. The Speeches of Malcolm X at Harvard is dedicated, not insignificantly, to John Monro.

Malcolm X spoke at Harvard once in 1961 and twice in 1964. The speeches forcefully presented Malcolm's discernable shift from staunch supporter of Elijah Muhammed to an outcast on the verge of finding independent ideological ground.

The New York Times cut into the book with a double-edged blade. It praised Epps's light editorial hand which preserved the essential wit and rhythm of Malcolm X's rhetoric, but added that Epps's essay was "more obscure" than the speeches.

THE TITLE of the book reveals something about the inner Epps. He professes concern for the broad range of problems facing black people, but limits his work for black improvement exclusively to the Harvard context. Although his service as Boston coordinator of the 1963 March on Washington might suggest that this was not always true, Epps sees his present role within these limits. "I've pretty much said to myself that if I'm to make a contribution to the development of blacks in this country it should be strictly within this institution," he says.

One section of his book, a transcription of remarks made at Leverett House on the occasion of Malcolm X's second Harvard speech, is particularly interesting in this regard:

"The Negro radical movement is never credited with meaning what it says. Its pronouncements are interpreted rather than heard...They are tolerated as the angry response of Negroes to white rejection."

Epps concluded that black radicalism is the result of experiences "which are unknown and beyond the imagination of most observers who are not themselves Negro."

Despite a short stint in Social Relations. Epps was never really committed to an academic career, but early latched on to administrative work as the area into which he would channel his energies. He is normally quite low-key--an approach which tends to win friends in high places. Early in 1970. Dean Dunlop appointed him to the Faculty Council, which replaced the old Committee on Educational Policy. Of 18 appointments, Epps's was the only non-academic one.

PARTICIPATING in the ancient game of bureaucratic musical chairs, Epps landed in his present seat in 1970. When the director of Athletics retired that year, Robert B. Watson--then dean of Students--took the position, and Epps filled the opening that Watson had left behind.

"I came to this job with a set of concepts that I thought reflected the times at Harvard," says Epps. He inherited a $600,000 deficit in the Harvard housing budget, a hole he says he has closed roughly half-way since taking over. "This kind of thing was my first priority. I felt, when I came in, that much of the trouble in the University had originated in the College finances and I was concerned that its interests might be neglected," Epps says. "People could have gone into a phase of reaction against it. It was therefore very important to establish its affairs on a sound financial basis."

Epps's duties as dean of Students are somewhat difficult to pinpoint. Charles P. Whitlock, dean of the College, has taken over many student-Faculty matters. And following the merger of Harvard and Radcliffe housing, Genevieve Austin took charge of housing matters--previously under the supervision of the dean of Students. Epps says that this leaves him free to pursue; "other administrative areas."

In his own words, Epps is an ombudsman for students and a general sounding borad for their complaints. He sees himself as an extension of the Commission on Inquiry--a Faculty-appointed body with the same types of duties. "There is a need for some officer in the Administration who understands the way the College works to provide information that would help people find the right place in the bureaucracy," Epps says.

BUT EPPS doesn't like to infringe on the Commission's prerogatives, and usually confines himself to handling minor matters such as complaints about term bill charges and the like. But when Shirley DuBois, widow of black scholar W. E. B. DuBois '95, spoke in Sanders Theater two years ago and whites were denied admittance, Epps found himself faced with something more than a mere housekeeping chore. His response indicated the type of "team player" he wants to be: He funnelled everything to the Commission.

Epps has two new areas of administrative concern under his stewardship. One he calls "student health and welfare." This takes him into the diverse realms of the University Health Services, the Bureau of Study Counsel, and student security. Epps's memorandum on undergraduate security was a major factor in the recent decision to lock up the Yard. "I thought that at a minimum we should ensure people's safety," he says.

Epps says that he also keeps an eye on UHS and its accessibility to students. After the death of Thomas Pickering '74 in a Sever Hall economics class last term, he helped set up new procedures which permit a quicker response to campus medical emergencies. In future emergencies, no University policeman will be needed to evaluate the situation before a physician is dispatched.

On more established lines of duty, Epps serves on both the Committee on Houses and Undergraduate Life and the Administrative Board. During the day, he spends some of his time meeting with students in his role of bureaucratic pathfinder. As the general overseer of all undergraduate organizations, Epps also must confer with students who seek University approval for new organizations.

Epps admits that his ombudsmanship has been less than satisfactory. Student-faculty dialogues have often degenerated into standoffs and as a middleman, he says he feels weight from both sides. Epps's intention to carry through with his "constructively critical" role inside the Administration thus carries discouraging precedents.

ANY EVALUATION of Epps's long-term chances for increased power within the Harvard community must include the question of his race. He is walking down a path previously untraveled by blacks, and he is acutely aware of it. Thus he remains cautious, seemingly passive. In the current brouhaha over the Afro-American Studies Department for example, he has let his colleagues Orlando Patterson and Martin Kilson carry the big guns in the arena of public debate. The presence of Walter Leonard in Massachusetts Hall as President Bok's assistant for minority affairs greatly lessens any pressure on Epps to perform as de facto dean of blacks.

Epps's highest priority now is gaining the trust of other administrators, based on his performance of deanly duties for the Harvard student community. Epps says, however, that he wants to develop closer ties to black undergraduates, while acting in the interest of the entire community. He says he believes that many black students have isolated themselves from the "intellectual strength" of Harvard via self-imposed segregation. Many black students will undoubtedly continue to perceive Epps as "one of them." Epps is disturbed by such sentiments, and remains firm in his priorities. "While I would like to have their friendship, I would be satisfied with their respect," he says.