A little president to president communication:

"Dear Mr. President:" wrote President Bok to President Reagan in a letter dated April 28.

"With the unanimous and enthusiastic support of the Harvard Corporation. I would like to invite you on behalf of the University to deliver the principal address at our Commencement ceremonies on the afternoon of June 4. The Commencement address has long been a highlight of our year-end activities. It was on this occasion that General George Marshall first announced the creation of the Marshall Plan after World War II. In the last three years, our speakers included Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, Chancellor Helmut Schmidt, and Cyrus Vance....

"On behalf of all of us at Harvard, I hope that you will be able to join us on June 4 and give us the benefit of learning [hearing] what I know will be an important and stimulating address."

The last time a sitting American president had delivered the annual Commencement speech in the Yard was 1905, when Theodore Roosevelt, class of 1880, addressed the University's 254th graduating class. Two other sons of Harvard who ended up in the White House in this century--Franklin D. Roosevelt '04 and John F. Kennedy '40--received honorary degrees, but neither gave a Commencement address as chief executive. Inviting a current president broke precedent for Harvard. Inviting Ronald Reagan, no less, whose politics have never been in tune with the "Eastern Liberal Establishment" whose capital is Cambridge and halls of power are Littauer, Coolidge and the Kennedy School of Government, seemed, to some at least, a little ... incongruous.

Yet the people responsible for selecting the afternoon speaker on Commencement Day--the top officials of the Associated Harvard Alumni, in consulation with administrators in Massachusetts Hall and President Bok--apparently had the impression that President Reagan wanted to speak at Harvard, or were at least convinced that some White House aides had demonstrated a "legitimate and sincere expression of interest" in having Reagan appear. "If the president wants to speak," observed David A. Aloian '49, executive director of the AHA, "how can you say no?" The tentative choice--Thomas J. Watson Jr., former president of IBM and ambassador to Moscow--was informed of the situation, and was, Aloian recalled, "very understanding." And President Bok dispatched letters to President Reagan and his deputy chief of staff, Michael K. Deaver. "I can assure you," Bok wrote Reagan, "that we will do our best to arrange the schedule to allow you as much or as little time as you wish at Harvard."

As it happened, the amount of time Reagan could allow for Harvard was none. The Harvard Band will play many songs during Commencement ceremonies today, but the strains of "Hail to the Chief" will not mingle with "Ten Thousand Men of Harvard." For once, Harvard was on the receiving end of a rejection letter this year instead of the other way around. Presidential deputy assistant Joseph W. Canzeri, an aide to Deaver, called Bok on May 1 with Reagan's answer: no. Scratch Reagan, write in--again--Watson.

The matter of the Reagan Invitation was unusual in another respect: it became public, very much so, and in a way that left some University and Kennedy School officials irritated, annoyed, upset, or merely nonplussed. For some reason--officials seem unable to recall exactly where, when, why or how the tradition started--the process of selecting Harvard's Commencement Speaker every year remains shrouded in secrecy and mystery until the very last moment, when a laconic announcement springs forth from the news office to end the suspense. The principle is the same as for the eight or ten distinguished figures in the arts, sciences and public service who receive honorary degrees on Commencement Day. Until a few years ago the Commencement Speaker--two of them, actually--came from the ranks of the honorary degree recipients, whose names were a closely guarded secret until the big day itself. "It's sort of like not opening all your birthday presents as they're bought for you but getting them all at once," comments Judge Herbert P. Wilkins, a member of the Board of Overseers' committee on honorary degrees.

Sometimes, it's hard to see what all the fuss is about: yet every year University officials remain tight-lipped, at times even touchy about the process of choosing honoraries and a speaker (Bok said he was "uncomfortable" discussing the subject, and would not go into details), the topic permeates dining hall conversations, and The Crimson confidently predicts honors for Harry Truman and harasses every source in town for clues as to who else will be in the spotlight. As with most commencements, the lustre is meant to be supplied by the speaker: a distinguished, recognizable figrue who has something suitable to say to a hot and sweaty crowd as another generations representatives leave the dorms and head for the rat race. At Harvard, however, something "a little extra" is desired: a Commencement--and Commencement speaker--par excellence; not just some warm, wise and witty words from the distinguished guest but a pronouncement on some momentous issue, a statement for our times. Stock in this idea rose significantly when, as Bok reminded Reagan, Marshall dropped his Plan on the steps of Mem Church (although no one noticed at the time, and it was not until months afterward that the huge relief effort for Europe was dated to June 1947). Solzhenitsyn's controversial depiction of the decline of the West in 1978 drew vast attention. Though the buildup for the speaker sometimes exceeds the impact of the speech itself, the point is to latch on to some speaker who will, for a day, reflect the status and spectacle commensurate with Harvard University's biggest annual afternoon.

Every year, the search process has quietly hummed through the fall, winter and spring, and finally spit out a speaker. How did it work in 1980-81? A little differently from most years because of the presidential intervention, but it's ad hoc in any case. "I don't think there's an exact science," Henry G. Van der Eb '42, who as president of the AHA had a major say in the selection, says. "It's an evolving, rolling process." While primary responsibility rests with the AHA, the informal consultating process and the tentative feelers that are extended to potential speakers can go through any number of channels, depending on the circumstances.

As in most years, the thinking on the question of a speaker gets going early in the academic year. Aloian recalls that last fall he, Van der Eb and Fred F. Glimp, vice president for alumni affairs and development--the Mass Hall representative--began discussing topics and speakers and comparing lists of about 30-35 names each. Van der Eb, a business executive from Chicago, was the one to include Watson on his list. "I was hoping for a leading businessman with qualities beyond the qualities of business," recalls Van der Eb. "I felt that with the advent of the '80s and the emphasis on the reindustrialization of America, the revitalization of the economy, the repositioning of the U.S. in world trade, I should be looking for a person familiar with American industry," he adds, citing in particular his worry over America's lack of competitiveness.

Before an invitation went out to Watson, however, some other matters were to be settled. Watson already had received an honorary from Harvard, in June 1975, so there would be no problems coordinating his selection with the Overseers' committee. (The AHA is consulted on the selection of the honorary recipients, and has the option of selecting a speaker from that list, which is usually nearly finalized by late winter.) Aloian, without naming names, said recently that early this year--long before the Reagan issue came up--one other person besides Watson was formally invited (a Third World head of state, according to one source) and another was approached. Neither idea worked out--a circumstance which is not at all unusual, as several plausible speakers are often sounded out before one accepts. "I don't really see what the big deal is," Robin Schmidt, vice president for government and community affairs, said last week. "The process was pretty much the same this year as every year... it just got perturbated by the possibility that the president of the United States would come."

The prospect of Ronald Reagan dropping by Harvard on Commencement Day entered the picture not through the AHA or Mass Hall, but via an abortive effort by graduating Kennedy School students to investigate the possibility of Reagan appearing at their graduation ceremonies on June 4 rather than the entire University's. The tradition of a separate graduation speaker at the K-School is a relatively recent one, and this year's events seem to have assured that it will be short-lived. Last year there were no problems: CBS broadcaster Walter Cronkite, in town to receive an honorary degree and deliver the Class Day speech on the day before Commencement to the undergraduate Class of '80, also spoke at Kennedy School graduation ceremonies. The year before that it was New York City Council President Carol Bellamy.

This year, when the graduate school's student marshalls began kicking around possible graduation speakers, they shot high. Heads of state, former presidents--and President Reagan--were discussed. Why not shoot for the top?--that seemed to be the prevailing attitude, recalls one person involved. One faction favored an invitation to Pierre Trudeau, noting that this June would mark 25 years since the Canadian Prime Minister received his M.A. in government from Harvard in 1946. Other suggestions included Oriana Fallaci, Andrew Young, Jimmy Carter, Waiter Mondale, Howard Baker and numerous others. (Henry Cisneros, the Kennedy School alumnus recently elected mayor of San Antonio, ultimately was invited and "would have loved to come," Vicki Smith, associate director of the senior executive fellows program, said last week, but couldn't make it because of a city council meeting.)

And the name of President Reagan came up. Here some new actors enter the picture. Lori A. Forman, a Kennedy School class marshall and long-time Republican activist, worked in the Washington office of Decision Making, Inc., a polling and research firm run by master Reagan strategist Richard L. Wirthlin. Forman "informally" discussed with Wirthlin the idea of Reagan's appearing at commencement. Wirthlin apparently brought the matter up with Deaver's office, which handled some aspects of presidential planning and appearances. The response was encouraging. Despite the assassination attempt which wounded Reagan on March 30, the president planned to accept invitations from several universities, and an invitation from the Kennedy School might well have a chance. That word filtered back to Cambridge, primarily through Forman, to Norman Smith, assistant dean for student and alumni services, and the Kennedy School official most closely involved with the search for a graduation speaker. At this point, by Smith remembers it, no formal invitation of any kind had been made to the White House, but he felt he should let the rest of the University know what was going on. And when Bok and other Harvard administration officials heard, they were not happy. Afraid that it might be considered a snub if Reagan appeared at Harvard on June 4 but didn't speak at the main Commencement exercises or receive an honorary degree, they told the Kennedy School to hold off on inviting Reagan, and on April 8 Smith called Forman in Washington and told her Harvard had vetoed the idea.