Under state law, anyone who owns 20 percent or more of the land affected by a zoning change may, by objecting, force the City Council to pass it by a vote of seven to two, rather than the usual six to three. Critics of the University say the provision inevitably stacks the deck in Harvard's favor on real estate issues.

In July, that stricture killed a proposal that would have tightened existing restrictions on development in Harvard Square and thus affected two University-affiliated commercial projects. The votes of Councillors William H. Walsh, Walter J. Sullivan and Sheila T. Russell were sufficient to stop it.

"Harvard used its ownership of property to require seven votes from the Cambridge City Council, and that is a threat in many of our zoning petitions," Wolf says. "It shows how the law is skewed towards property owners."

"That doesn't even involve lobbying. That's just using muscle," says Michael H. Turk, head of the Cambridge Tenants' Union and a longtime campaigner against Harvard's role as a landlord.

While she conceded that Harvard is usually seen as a "Goliath" in the city, O'Neill denied that the University has overwhelming clout with city officials.

O'Neill argues that the way zoning laws change is, if anything, "weighted towards citizen activism," because petitions for tighter zoning limits need only the signature of 10 city residents to get a hearing from the City Council. "It's not that the system favors us," she says. "It's very easy for any citizen to promulgate regulations."

In interviews over the past several years, O'Neill has stressed repeatedly that Harvard has become more sensitive towards city neighborhoods. She says Harvard neither would nor could build such architectural testaments to the University's dominance as Holyoke Center, Peabody Terrace and the new portion of Quincy House.

Even David Sullivan, the author of the city ordinance limiting institutional expansion, says he's noticed a "mellowing trend" in recent years in the University's lobbying efforts. "They've taken a less confrontational approach than in the past, and that's certainly appreciated," Sullivan said.

But while they find it more subtle these days, community activists say the pressure continues.

Turk is quick to say that Harvard benefits from a "revolving door" between state and city staff. He cites the case of Harvard's Planning Director, Kathy Spiegelman, who serves on a variety of community boards as an official or unofficial representative of the University.

Before coming to Harvard, Spiegelman served as director of the city's Community Development Department, a fact that Turk says gives her status and influence on both sides of the town-gown line.

"Kathy Spiegelman is someone who knows all the City Councillors, knows how the city government works and can therefore weigh in on those issues [that affect Harvard]," Turk said.

Spiegelman was out of town and unavailable for comment.

The University also can make its presence felt on various city zoning committees. Critics say such representation on local boards gives the University another way to exert undue influence on certain issues.

"What you see often is [Harvard's] enormous muscle and strength where University personnel appear on boards here, there and everywhere," Turk said. "Generally, there's one or more seats available to the University, as if they should have influence on the outcome."