Sitting on the corner of Provost Albert Carnesale's desk in Mass. Hall are three wooden boxes labeled "IN," "OUT," and "TOO HARD." For Harvard's high level administrators, this is representative of Carnesale's good natured humor.

"He has the extraordinary ability to make the heavy, light," says Elizabeth C. "Beppie" Huidekoper, vice president for finance.

The "TOO HARD" basket is usually empty.

Those outside Mass. Hall who come into contact with the University's No. 2 officer's "direct, decision-centered approach" might point to another accessory on Carnesale's bookshelf: a coffee cup that reads "No more Mr. Nice Guy."

Carnesale has a history of wearing many hats. In 1994 he was acting-President, Dean of the John F. Kennedy School of Government and Provost--simultaneously.

But while in the past year Carnesale has only carried the provostship, he has tackled issues as diverse--and difficult--as faculty and staff benefits, fund raising and information technology.

The viability of the provostship in a vastly decentralized bureaucracy was hotly debated among the Deans when Rudenstine resurrected the position in 1991. The debate increased after Rudenstine's first provost, University Professor Jerry R. Green, resigned in frustration three years later.

After another three years, Rudenstine credits Carnesale with ending the debate by carving a role for a Harvard president's right-hand.

"One can write a job description now," Rudenstine says.

On July 1, Carnesale will leave the University for the chancellorship of the University of California Los Angeles, and with him will go his nonsense approach. That same day, Harvey V. Fineberg '67, dean of the School of Public Health, will become Rudenstine's third provost in as many years, and, again, the necessity of a No. 2 academic administrator at Harvard is contested.

Carving the Role

Deans of the various Harvard faculties might be compared to lords of the manor in English fiefdom.

They have their own land, their own money and their own labor--and they are jealous of an encroachment on any one of the three.

So when Rudenstine revived the provost, it isn't surprising that the Deans grumbled at the prospect of losing their autonomy. And Green gave them good reason, issuing two reports rich with University-wide proposals that would have dramatically revamped centralized policies on retirement benefits and research funding--issues on which the lords of the nine castles expected to be consulted but were not.

When Green resigned unexpectedly and Carnesale stepped into his shoes, the position took on a new shape.