The poetic irony is exquisite. Harvard W. Stephens seems an incredibly unlikely name for an individual who has steadfastly refused to accept Harvard University on its own ivory tower terms during an undergraduate career that has spanned nine years.

Stephens, now in the first term of his senior year after having interrupted his studies for a four-and-a-half year period, is the only current Harvard undergraduate who took part in the April 1972 takeover of Massachusetts Hall. The takeover by the 34 black students was the culmination of months of protest against Harvard's $13 million holding in the Gulf Oil Corporation, then a leading prop of the Portuguese colonial regime in Angola.

Stephens says he does not regret his decision to participate in the takeover, and believes its major accomplishment was "making the whole Harvard community more aware of the implications of its investments."

During the takeover period, as opposed to now, "People were willing to sacrifice much more of what Harvard had to offer them personally, to be true to what they felt in their hearts," he says.

In the aftermath of the takeover, Stephens was forced to withdraw from the University, though for reasons not directly related to the protest. He had been named director of Big Brothers and Sisters, a Phillips Brooks House program that worked to help young kids in the Columbia Point housing projects. In June 1972, Stephens was involved in an attempted theft of furniture from a Harvard House--furniture that was destined for use in the Columbia Point summer program. He was summarily thrown out of Harvard by the Ad Board.

Last fall, the Ad Board decided to readmit Stephens, a decision the senior says the sympathetic efforts of Marshall Pihl, senior tutor of Quincy House, were instrumental in bringing about. Stephens now views his June 1972 actions as "a mistake which I learned from--it was a blow to anyone who thought anything about me."

Although Stephens says he expected that Harvard would readmit him sooner, he says, "I'm not bitter and can't afford to be bitter" about Harvard's actions.

Stephens spent his time away from Harvard living in Boston and his native Detroit, doing construction and custodial work and pursuing political activities.

The Harvard community of 1977 has changed, and Harvard, in effect, has changed communities. Harvard Stephens this fall moved off-campus to Roxbury, where he plays a leading role in the work of the city-wide Coalition for Justice and Equality, a community group that works with the families of blacks victimized by racial harassment.

Stephens at times finds his relations with younger students somewhat unreal. He belongs, essentially, to a different social and political generation from most current undergraduates. In the spring of 1968, when King was assassinated, Detroit exploded in rage, and Stephens was preparing to enter Harvard as a freshman, today's freshman class members were sitting attentively in the third grade of elementary school. "At times, I feel like a relic," Stephens says. Still, he adds that he appreciates the respect others at Harvard have shown him. Oftentimes, Stephens says, other students ask him his opinion on social questions; many question him about the "Harvard experience" of the late '60s and early '70s.

As for the future, Stephens says he is uncertain about his plans after graduation, though most likely they include a continuation of his commitment to the people of Roxbury. As for the final year at Harvard, Stephens says "in the time off, I grew a lot and the University changed a lot. Now I'm just trying to work things out in my final year."

Repeatedly, he petitioned Harvard for readmission to the University.

Finally, last spring, Stephens, 25 years of age, settled back into a suite in Quincy House and resumed his concentration in Afro-American studies.

Stephens's return to Harvard has provided him with a unique perspective on Harvard. He recalls one event, early in the spring semester last year, which he says set the tone for his later perception of changes in Harvard students: at the end of the first lecture in James Q. Wilson's and Richard Herrnstein's Soc Sci 151, "Crime, Human Nature, and Social Organization," students stood and applauded Herrnstein. When Stephens had last attended classes at the University, students almost daily picketed Herrnstein's lectures for what they believed were his unscientific, racist views on the inheritability of intelligence. The stark contrast "just freaked me right out," Stephens says.