As nervous students file into Memorial Hall every year to take exams, a brief, silent spark of recognition inevitably interrupts their last pre-exam moments. This recognition leaves them a little more secure, a little more puzzled, and quite a bit more amused than they had been an instant before. They have seen the familiar face. They have heard the soothing patter. Once again they are face-to-face with a Harvard institution--the inscrutable, ubiquitous Mr. Test.

His real name is William Henry Edwards III, and for the last ten years or so he has proctored exams at Harvard, usually in Memorial Hall. But while everyone has heard his low-voiced chatter and chuckled at his never-changing exam demeanor, few know very much about him. What does Mr. Test do after the last blue book is in? How can you make a career out of proctoring? Does Mr. Test have full-time job? Is he a CIA agent in disguise? No one knows for sure.

But the rumors abound. "I've heard he works for the Bureau of Study Counsel," several students said when asked what they thought Mr. Test did when he was not proctoring. Bill Edwards denies it, as does the Bureau of Study Counsel. Another theory is that he works for the registrar's office. Yet, apart from exam time, when the office hires Edwards as a proctor, Mr. Test is not connected with the registrar's office at all. Douglas S. Gardner '57, associate registrar simply says, "He's a proctor." Beyond that, he confesses, "I don't know a heck of a lot about him."

Bill Edwards does not merely tolerate the uncertainty that surrounds him, he thrives on it. He is very vague about his Harvard duties because, as he explains it, "I like to remain a little mysterious." He will do nothing that would jeopardize his image as a living legend, including consent to an interview. He fears that interviewers would be mainly concerned with odd experiences that he has had during his career as a proctor, and stories about funny things that happen in exams ignore what is really humorous about them. "I am the comic element in these exams," he explains. Some day he will reveal all, Edwards says, but in the meantime, he wants to remain an enigma.

Although there is nothing really mysterious about Bill Edwards' relationship with Harvard, there is much that is interesting and unconventional about it. The farthest back that anyone here can remember Edwards is 1964, when he received his M.A. degree from the English Department. That was the last official affiliation Edwards had with the University. Now he proctors exams. He proctors a lot of exams. But as far as anyone contacted knows, he has no full-time position with or official title of the University.

Gardner explains that Edwards simply makes himself available to proctor any exams Gardner's office sponsors. "He's certainly had more experience with us than any other proctor," so Gardner always assigns him to Memorial Hall. Gardner guesses that Edwards has been doing this sort of thing for about ten years and adds, "I understand they call him 'Mr. Exam.'"

Edwards' position may be curious, but it turns out that it is not wholly unprecedented. John F. Adams, now assistant director of Harvard Extension--the office that runs evening classes for the community--says that Edwards now performs the function that Adams himself performed over ten years ago. That functions is simply moving "from office to office as the academic calendar progresses," proctoring exams and doing similar work as the need arises.

The Extension office, for instance, frequently employs Bill Edwards. He proctors hourly, make-up and final exams for them. In addition, he "checks courses." This involves monitoring evening classes by taking attendance at the door to ensure that only students who have paid for the extension courses attend them. Adams had nothing but praise for Edwards who is, in his estimation, "a very valued member of Harvard." Except for the brief period from December to January, Edwards can get pretty steady work, according to Adams.

When the normal school year ends, Bill Edwards moves over to the summer school office. Leonard W. Holmberg, summer school registrar, says that Edwards has worked with his office for "quite a few years" proctoring summer exams and assisting with registration. Even when it is not summer, Edwards feels at home in this office; the Alumni Records Office even lists his mailing address as 1350 Mass Ave, that of the summer school office. A summer school secretary, who asked not to be identified, knew Edwards from his frequent proctoring but also from his copies of Harvard Magazine that are faithfully delivered to her office every month.

So Bill Edwards is known throughout the Harvard community. He proctors hourlies, make-ups and final exams for the College, the grad schools, the extension office and the summer school. He proctors freshman week exams that determine placement in courses, and in his spare time has even been spotted proctoring Law School Admissions Tests (LSAT). While Edwards cautions that "I try to work as little as possible," he nonetheless describes his occupation as that of "a freelance proctor."

With such an unconventional relationship with the University and with such choice exposure to students, Edwards has become part of the folklore of Harvard. The various names he goes by are part of the student contribution to his legend. The titles "Mr. Test" and "Mr. Exam" and the slightly more clever "Doctor Proctor" are those more frequently used by students. But he has gone by more obscure names in the past.

One name that stuck for a while, recalls Susan E. McGee, registrar for Harvard Extension, is "The Pepsi Man" or "Mr. Pepsi." This name comes from Edwards' practice of drinking large bottles of cola while he waits for the exam to end. McGee knows people who have run across old Harvard friends in New York City or other parts of the country and been asked, "How is the Pepsi Man these days?"

Anne E. Sontag '78 vouches for an even more obscure name--"Mr. Goodpeople." This name, she claims, arose from his closing comments to students to assure timely return of finished blue books. At the end of exams Edwards would say, "OK, good people, let's finish up the Harvard way."

But Bill Edwards has little to say about any of this. Rather he is interested in preserving his stature as a curiosity and in circulating yet more parts of his legend. He proudly points to a story run in the Harvard Independent some time ago which whimsically described the excavation of Memorial Hall 2000 in the future. At one point, the archaeologists unwrap a mummy that immediately gets up and starts proctoring exams.

Another favorite story concerns the administration of the LSAT. He explains that he is no stranger to such exams--"It is well-known that I like to imbibe in that kind of stuff"--and he tells of the student who had taken the test so often that "he even got to bring Mr. Test his Cokes."

So exam period ends, but the legend lives on. Some day he may move on, as did his predecessor, John F. Adams, to an administrative position within the official University structure. Perhaps some day he will retire to publish his memoirs. But in the meantime, Harvard students will continue their love-hate relationship with Bill Edwards. They will continue to love the sense of continuity and curiosity he creates; they will continue to resent the authority he stands for when he finally barks out, "The exam is over." Bill Edwards has been at Harvard for the better part of a decade and is probably the most talented proctor the University has. In a college that highly values both tradition and excellence, it seems that Mr. Test will have a home for many years to come.