Sometimes just watching President Neil L. Rudenstine can be excruciating.

In his office, perched on the tiny, straight-backed wooden chair he uses to protect himself against a chronic, painful back problem, Harvard's president twists and contorts his body into positions only meant for acrobats.

During conversations at the end of the day, Rudenstine will rise, slightly stooped because of the ache in his back, and wander around his spacious Massachusetts Hall office, absent-mindedly searching for his glasses.

Since being named president in March 1991, Rudenstine has spent more than three years being forced into all manner of uncomfortable positions. He has been forced to handle difficulty diversity issues. He has struggled to keep up with a torrid fundraising pace. And he has been forced to make more high-profile appointments than the typical new president.

Rudenstine does not face the same accusations Bill Clinton does. He is not forever changing shape. But his management style is characterized more by thorough pragmatism than principle.

Finding pragmatic solutions takes time, and time takes its toll. Since the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, Rudenstine's first-floor office in Massachusetts Hall has been empty. The Corporation, Harvard's most powerful governing board, announced a week ago that Rudenstine was suffering from "severe fatigue and exhaustion of an unknown origin." He is taking a medical leave of absence that will last at least several weeks.

The University maintains that Rudenstine, a type-A personality with a tendency toward workaholism, has simply toiled too hard.

"It's not atypical from him to start his day at 7:30 or 8 [a.m.] and either conclude his day at home doing work or attending an event, function or dinner," says James H. Rowe '73, vice president for government, community and public affairs.

On Rudenstine's last working day, Monday, November 21, he met with a number of deans, Provost (and now Acting President) Albert Carnesale, visited the Harvard Foundation and had a development meeting, according to a source close to the president.

University officials assert, however, that it was not only the twists and turns and juggling of Rudenstine's busy schedule that led to the fatigue.

"It's the intensity with which you work as well as the number of hours," Carnesale said at last Monday's press conference, where the leave of absence was announced.

Some students win high marks through brilliance. Others grind out good grades. Rudenstine is very smart, but at root he is a grind. That way of working has made him, by most accounts, a very successful manager of low-profile issues like the University deficit.

But his grand vision of a more integrated university seems to have gathered little momentum. And on the national scale, the president's voice is barely audible on larger education issues. After more than three years, he has few grand accomplish. ments to show for his hard work.

Smoother Sailing

It was a nice honeymoon. In the fall of 1991, Harvard's first-years greeted the young, enthusiastic new president with a banner hanging from Weld Hall. "We Love Our Neil, from the Class of 1995," it said.

The leaves have changed. Today, by decree of Dean of Students Archie C. Epps III, no banners hang on the walls of first-year dorms.