The "College on the Charles" was almost the "College on the Beach"--in the 1630s, when the Overssers of the hypothetical institution, now known as Harvard College, were searching for a location to settle, they came close to accepting an offer of 300 ocean-bordered acres of land in Salem, Mass. Instead, they chose Newtowne, which was renamed Cambridge the year the school opened.

In those days the city of Cambridge was small. "American frontier history can be told largely in terms of cattle," Samuel Eliot Morison writes in Three Centuries of Harvard. "The present Cambridge Common is merely the apex of a great triangle of cow pasture extended to the borders of the township." Nearly 350 years later, Cambridge is big and crowded--102,000 people packed into six square miles, the third highest population density in America.

In the middle of the city, now as then, sits Harvard, and recently that has become a problem. In 1636, Cambridge donated to the school the land upon which Hollis, Holworthy, Stoughton and Harvard Halls are now located. Yet in 1979, the city tried to restrict Harvard expansion into nearby neighborhoods, "downzoning" residential property and putting a height ceiling on construction in the Square.

Morison says Harvard's Overseers chose Cambridge as the home for their school in large part because of the "winning way" of the community's leader, Thomas Shepard. But six present-day civic leaders, including Cambridge Mayor Thomas W. Danehy sent a letter to the Board of Overseers this winter asking it to take some action to remedy about "the consistent poor judgment and insensitivity" of Harvard officials in their dealings with the city.

The change in attitude between the city and Harvard didn't occur overnight, but 1978-79, at least to some, was the nadir of their relationship. "I've never seen Harvard-Cambridge relations worse, longtime city manager James L. Sullivan said in early winter. "Nothing has happened since to change my mind," he added last week.

The increasing political sophistication of Cambridge officials caused part of the transformation in city-Harvard relations: "They still think Cambridge is run by political hacks and they snicker behind our backs; they are unaware of the sophistication that has developed on the Cambridge City Council over the last decade," says City Councilor Mary Ellen Preusser.

"But we have things we would rather do than fight Harvard," Preusser adds--the University has met the expanding city and it's at the points they bump into each other that most of the tension can be seen. "All fall, it was one shock after another," Preusser says, counting down a long litany of complaints to back up her claim.

Cambridge officials, for example, charge that the University is unwilling to plan with the city. "They think they are operating in a vacuum," City Manager Sullivan says. "Harvard seems to pretend that the city doesn't exist. It seems to go on about its business as if it was located in the middle of a cow pasture in North Dakota," he continues.

Some townspeople cite the controversy surrounding a proposed "overlay zone" to limit the height of buildings in Harvard Square as the best example of their grievance with the University. The petition won six out of nine votes, enough for passage of a zoning change under normal circumstances. But the circumstances weren't normal--antiquated state law allows the owner of 20 per cent of the property in an affected area to file an objection demanding a seventh vote in the city council. Harvard exercised its option, a seventh vote was nowhere to be found, and the overlay failed.

Harvard claimed the objection was necessary to protect its interests in the Square--Harvard may eventually "build on a potential site within the area of the Square," Lewis A. Armistead, community relations representative in the Office of Government and Community Affiars, said the week of the disputed vote. Armistead added later that Harvard hadn't had a chance to study the idea. "We need more time to look at all its ramifications," Armistead said. One city councilor who voted Harvard's way, Kevin P. Crane '73, agreed the University had been the fall guy in the controversy. "The overlay really aimed at private interests, and Harvard was just a target," Crane said. "Even after the vote, we offered to plan with the city. They told us it was a moot point, that the height limit was in force,' Michael F. Brewer, assistant vice president for government and community affairs, says. Other city councillors dismissed a University claim that it had been unwarned about the overlay. I'd been meeting with them for three months," Preusser said. "They wouldn't specify their complaints--I just think they wanted to keep their options open, not to be tied down," she added.

Other in the city though there were motives darker than orneriness behind Harvard's action. David Sullivan, a lawyer for the Alliance of Cambridge Tenants, told a Phillips Brooks House audience in April that Harvard might be planning to develop an academic complex in the Square.

Whatever the reason, Harvard's decision to contest the overlay "broke the camel's back," Bernie Flynn, administrative assistant to Danehy, said later. Within a week, the letter to the Board of Overseers decrying the "consistent poor judgment and insensitivity" of Harvard was signed and mailed out. Two weeks later, the City Council decided after heated debate to contest the overlay ruling. "As of now, the overlay is in effect with six votes backing it," City Manager Sullivan said. A court challenge to the seventh vote provision began two weeks ago.

The overlay furor was the last in a series of Cambridge-Harvard clashes. "Since then they've been quiet, doing nothing to ameliorate or exacerbate the situation," Preusser said. "I don't think they're out to shock us anymore," Sullivan added. "Every time they act contrary to the interests of Cambridge, we stand ready to confront them. The city has a great deal of police power. We have the right to take them to court anytime," he added.

Other areas where the interests of Harvard and those of Cambridge have clashed include University expansion into the surrounding community and the burden Harvard's tax-exempt status places on the rest of the city. In both cases, a majority on the council charges Harvard with arrogance--a "longstanding, inbred arrogance," according to one city councilor. The add that the University has little feeling for the people their decisions affect. "The place doesn't talk with a coherent voice," Sullivan says. "The community relations people are people of good will and they understand the ramifications of Harvard's actions--they've got to get some power," he adds. "It's so frustrating--a phalanx of p.r. types blocks the way to the decision-makers," tenant organizer Sullivan adds. Almost everyone who's angry at Harvard seems to think something in the process of University decision-making is to blame for its problems with the city. "There are no individuals you can single out," says one city official. "The structure is such that it makes it hard (for Harvard) to move in any direction except its own selfish interest."

That selfish interest has moved Harvard sprawling in all directions across Cambridge, community organizers complain. Two of the demands during the student strike of 1969 were for lower rents in University-owned housing and an end to Harvard's incursions on surrounding neighborhoods. Neither has been put into effect, tenant organizer Sullivan says. "Instead, Harvard has recently begun serious real estate investment in the city, and created its own real estate corporation," Sullivan adds. In the last year, the University has tried to take at least one building out of the housing market, ordering tenants evicted so it could be converted to office space. They have also angered some Cantabrigians by buying up property around the city, and by announcing a plan, known as "The Cambridge Option" designed to allow faculty members to purchase homes in the city at much lower interest rates than those available on the open market. Officials including City Councilor Francis A. Duehay '55 complain the plan will drive up property values and drive out non-Harvard prospective buyers.