His lack of an intellectual approach, of the adequate political equipment to deal with the new issues, became subject to attack.

"He's not this big social theorist," says Rosa Ehrenreich '92, Romano's successor as PBHA president. "In the debate that emerged, everyone got upset and Anthony--kind of in keeping with his style--he decides what is right, and...it's unlikely that anything will change his mind. Even now he feels he was right."

"It's not that a lot of people don't think he's a great guy, but he was wrong," she says.

Romano himself agrees after a manner. "I was good ol' affable Anthony. I myself had a lot to do with [the problem]...but you have to stand up to defend your position without alienating people. Obviously I wasn't able to do that."

"He felt like it had to be done but not necessarily the way he did it," says Ng. "He wasn't able to stand aside and let something that he thought was unfair go uncriticized. I think it hurt him being in that kind of position."

She concludes," Yes it's been difficult but I think he's learned a lot from it. He tried to carry on his administration despite these difficulties. I don't think PBH got worse because of it. PBH got better."

Romano appears to be a man of senatorial affability--an earnest gladhander who loves to greet strangers and to seek out their motivations. With a lanky frame that easily tops six feet and a genial, syrupy Southern drawl, he is given to wide, simple, declarative gestures.

The Georgia native typically slips into the manner of a practiced but informal public speaker, adopting a rock-steady, straight-ahead gaze when thinking--he never loses his train of thought. And not far from sight is a disarming grin, shot through with the confidence imparted by youthful success and good schooling.

"He likes people," Ehrenreich says simply. "He's not a cynical person. He's someone who can be very caring...[who] can be directly affected by someone's who's unhappy."

"The fact that so many people can say that about him shows it," Ng says. "He likes to talk; anyone he can nail, he'll talk to. And his vision comes out in what he says."

He is quick to apologize for his school-boy achievements, which he sees as naive and very much removed from real-world conflicts of class and race. A scholar, student leader and athlete at Atlanta's Briarcliffe High, Romano was known among friends outside of school as "Rabbi" for his mastery of the Torah and "setting all kinds of records" at his temple.

But at Harvard something changed.

"Somewhere in my four years as a Harvard student I realized I was hugely ignorant, and I realized the value of finding you're ignorant [because] it's only at that point that you start to learn," Romano says.

The turning point came his first year, when Romano began what became a four-year-long relationship with a Puerto Rican youth living in Cambridge's Roosevelt Rowers housing project. The encounter led to a flowering of sensitivity for Romano at Harvard.

When Romano talks about Jerry, one can see his eyes wander and his mind turn inward. Known as a trouble maker, Jerry was nearly a street tough at age nine. The child of a single, non-working mother, the boy's life introduced a different universe to Romano.