Dean of the College Harry R Lewis' '68 office on the first floor of University Hall is large, with yellow walls. A low, round table sits in the middle, covered with rocks and mineral samples from a lapidary shop near Lewis' Montana summer retreat.

During interviews and conversations, Lewis often puts one foot on the table, crosses his legs, picks up a rock and tosses it from hand to hand as he looks around the room. All while he's talking.

"It's his general attitude, you see the look on his face as he leans back in his chair--like you're stupid. He's lounging, and you are there, trying to get a point across," says Kathryn B. Clancy '01, the president of the Radcliffe Union of Students. "He conveys the attitude that you are not important."

Impressions like these can be lethal--especially for a white, male, middle-aged computer scientist trying to come across as sensitive to women's issues.

To those already critical of Harvard's treatment of women, Harry Lewis' words and actions only confirm that Harvard is a men's club after all.

The Lyman Common Room in Radcliffe's Agassiz House was once full of feminist literature and displays, like the infamous "boob board."

No such space exists under the auspices of Harvard College, and with Harvard's non-discrimination policy, Lewis says it never will.

There is simply no room at Harvard for groups that will not admit both men and women, Lewis says.

But Harvard students, Radcliffe Institute administrators and alumnae say the playing field for men and women remains uneven, and they say that women need institutional support--a type of support they feel Lewis will not give.

Playing By Harvard's Rules

Though Lewis was not privy to the negotiations that led to the much publicized Harvard-Radcliffe merger last October, he was handed the outcome and is now responsible for implementing its details.

It is Lewis who must apply the deal's minutia and make the merger agreement come alive. Hence, the Radcliffe Travelling Fellowships were transferred to Harvard College's Office of Career Services and the Radcliffe Externship program was opened to men.

Lewis grounds his opinion about gender at Harvard in the College's non-discrimination policy--a rule established in 1977 in negotiation with Radcliffe that said no Harvard recognized student group would deny a student membership on the basis of his or her gender.

But casualties of the Harvard rule--and Lewis's interpretation of it--are everywhere.

For example, the Radcliffe Science Alliance brought interested first-year women to campus a week early for intensive seminars about science at Harvard. The Science Alliance didn't make the cut at Harvard.

"It's disappointing. It's feasible for Harvard to take it on," says Elizabeth D. Chao '01, head of Women in Science at Harvard and Radcliffe (WISHR). "Instead, it has been swept under the rug, and people are sad and upset."

However, Lewis announced earlier this week that next year he plans to launch a type of mentoring program for women in science. The program will be organized through science-based academic departments.

Yet despite the clarity with which Lewis cites College policy, some students say applications of the rule aren't always as transparent.

A committee--chaired by Lewis--will award the Paul Revere Frothingham Prize today to a graduating senior. One of the criteria for the prize is that the recipient embodies the quality of "manliness."

Such irony is not lost on Acting Dean of the Institute Mary Maples Dunn, who at last week's Strawberry Tea made a not-so-veiled reference to "womanliness." Dunn declined to award Radcliffe's annual Fay Prize this year, traditionally its highest honor for a graduating woman, because she feared there would not be enough time before graduation to ensure that the prize complied with Harvard's non-discrimination policy.

But with characteristic concern for the rules, Lewis says he had to give the Frothingham this year in accordance with the donor's terms, or else the College might be sued for going against the donor's wishes.

Harvard's lawyers, however, have told The Crimson that such a lawsuit is extremely unlikely.

And Lewis told The Crimson earlier this week that next year, all Harvard College non-athletic prizes and fellowships will be available to men and women without gender restriction.

"This covers not only the

Frothingham prize, but other prizes and fellowships as well, including the

Shaw travelling fellowships," Lewis writes in an e-mail message.

But for this year, despite the prevailing legal constraints, students were often confused by Lewis's actions.

"I think that they should have given the Fay prize this year. With the [Frothingham] if feels like a double standard," says Tea attendee Gisela I. Mohring '00.

Actions Speak Louder Than Words

Feminist groups' leaders and Radcliffe College alumnae point to specific examples of Lewis' actions which, for them, indicate that Lewis is not responsive to their concerns.

For instance, Lewis's comments at a luncheon last year upset many alumnae.

Lewis was seated at a table with students and several historians at the first annual Gender at the Gates Conference--an event organized by Phillips Professor of Early American History Laurel Thatcher Ulrich to examine the history of women at Harvard.

Over the meal, participants were asked to suggest research topics about the history of women at Harvard and Radcliffe.

Lewis--with students and academics present--suggested looking into why the Harvard-Radcliffe cheerleaders stopped wearing black pants at football games and adopted short skirts.

In his work as dean, Lewis has embraced non-political, relatively non-controversial women's groups like the Women's Leadership Project (WLP) and WISHR.

"Lewis is not all that interested in talking about issues of sexual violence or sexual harassment," says Brina Milikowsky '00, a member of the Coalition Against Sexual Violence.

In the spring of 1999, the Coalition published a set of demands in an advertisement in The Crimson, asking the College to address their concerns about sexual violence on campus, including a request that the University collect additional statistics about rape on campus.

Numerous student groups signed on to the list of demands, as did Radcliffe Dean of Educational Programs Tamar March.

March says Lewis was furious that she had signed on to the proposal without consulting him first.

"He was angry and disappointed, we had a lot of [later]conversations around that [issue]," March says.

March received several phone calls from Lewis after the demands appeared in The Crimson, in which he said he was unhappy that she had signed on to the list of grievances.

"The text of the ad was not only a list of demands but a set of statements about the inadequacy of Harvard's resources. I thought that if Radcliffe officials felt that way, they should have picked up the phone and called me rather than leaving me to read of their views in The Crimson," Lewis writes in an e-mail message. "Apparently on this occasion at least the Radcliffe officials felt solidarity with this group of students was more important."

But in interviews with The Crimson, eight leaders and former leaders of campus women's groups deemed Lewis unresponsive and "dismissive" of issues surrounding sexual harassment and sexual violence on campus.

And despite Lewis' attempts to address gender concerns through programs such as the one to support undergraduate women in the sciences, campus feminist group leaders say it isn't enough.

"There has been no significant support from the College to start a support group for sexual assault survivors, to strengthen the role of Sexual Assault Sexual Harassment (SASH) advisors, survey the student body on the prevalence of sexual assault, or simply talk more about the issue," says Rabia S. Belt '01, a former member of the coalition and the managing editor of the liberal monthly Perspective.

Lewis did not attend this year's Take Back the Night rally, sponsored by the coalition, though Karen E. Avery '87, an assistant dean of Harvard College, was present. Lewis says he had another engagement that evening.

Such actions have alienated many Radcliffe alumnae and may jeopardize the fundraising potential of the Ann Radcliffe Trust--which Lewis organized to fund campus women's groups.

Lewis and Avery control the Trust, though a student and Faculty advisory committee will participate in the grant allocation process.

Top Radcliffe alumnae leaders say that Lewis has left potential donors feeling unenthusiastic about the Trust.

"They are not admitting that there is a problem with gender at Harvard--with date rape, final clubs, with anything," says an alumnae leader. "The problem is the dean, and if his office controls it, the Trust will not serve the same purpose I want my money to serve. They are using the name to suggest that it is a Radcliffe thing."

But Avery, one of Lewis's most ardent supporters, says she sees Lewis as receptive to women's issues, particularly matters of sexual violence and sexual harassment.

"I don't know why people feel that [Lewis doesn't care about these things]. I feel like it is very much the opposite. The Trust will be funding groups concerned with sexual harassment and sexual violence," Avery says. "I also worry when people think about women at Harvard that the first thing they jump to is rape or sexual violence. I don't think that is the only touch point for women at Harvard."

A Sometimes Stormy Relationship

Part of Lewis' problem in dealing with feminist undergraduates, now that they are officially his charges, might be that his reputation proceeds him.

From the first days of his tenure as dean in the spring of 1995, Lewis sought to clarify the relationship between Radcliffe and Harvard. But he interpreted the 1977 agreement in which Radcliffe "delegated" to Harvard College the responsibility for undergraduate instruction in a literal way.

In a pre-merger world, as dean of the College, Lewis saw himself responsible for all undergraduate affairs. He bristled at the slightest hint of Radcliffe supervision.

This attitude angered students and alumnae even then.

"He was the most rabid of the anti-Radcliffe administrators," says a source experienced with both Lewis and the Radcliffe administration.

Lewis was adamant that he would supervise every undergraduate--male and female.

Lewis says women are done a disservice if they get any special treatment.

"[He] doesn't make assumptions on people based on particular characteristics. He doesn't assume that you are a member of the group," says Marlyn McGrath Lewis '70-'73, director of admissions for Harvard College and Lewis' wife.

Harry Lewis says he hates any distinction--any distinction at all--that separates men and women at Harvard.

"Nothing we do should make distinctions on the basis of gender or race," he says.

He has acted consistently too. For example, Lewis was willing to silence "Radcliffe" cheers at the opening exercises for first years in 1998.

Tradition deemed that the women in the audience yell "Radcliffe," in response to the Glee Club's persistent chant of "Harvard" in the song "Harvardiana"--playful banter between the men and the women.

But in 1998, Lewis asked the Glee Club's director to quiet the Radcliffe Choral Society and their intermittent cheers of "Radcliffe."

There would be no bantering. Lewis would permit only the refrain of "Harvard."

He was insistent that men and women be treated exactly equal--no special favors, no special cheers.

But in trying to obliterate every hint of a relationship between Radcliffe and female undergraduates, Lewis has alienated many of the women he deigns to dean.

Leaders of campus women's groups, alumnae and administrators say that he has been slow to address the more controversial issues of sexual violence and sexual harassment on campus.

"We are all works in progress, so is he. When we say equal opportunity, there may be some things that individuals--women--wish to have,

that Harvard hasn't thought about," McGrath Lewis says.

But for Radcliffe, the problem was more than Lewis' image.

Lewis disdained what Radcliffe had come to embody under the leadership of President Linda S. Wilson and chairman of the board of the trustees, Nancy-Beth G. Sheerr '71, sources say.

"Harry thought Wilson and Sheerr were ill-equipped administrators driving a distinguished institution into the ground," says the source experienced with both Radcliffe and Lewis. The 1977 agreement required Harvard to consult with Radcliffe on certain appointments, such as the selection of House masters. Once Harvard had made a selection for such a position, Lewis would venture up Garden Street to Radcliffe Yard and climb the steps of Fay House to get what he says he felt was akin to a rubber stamp of approval.

Lewis, he readily admits, found these jaunts uncomfortable.

"They were the most awkward meetings I've ever had," Lewis says. "Nothing uncivil, just odd."

The last dean of Radcliffe College, Phillipa Bovet, says that issues of communication were a source of conflict between Lewis and Wilson.

When an issue arose with a female student--had they been hurt or were having problems of adjustment--Radcliffe felt it had the right to be informed, but Wilson would not always find out in a timely manner, Bovet says.

"There was a sense that we had a certain kind or responsibility, and some students wanted us involved too. It was important for Radcliffe, for Wilson, to know what was going on. People like The Crimson, the outside press, would expect us to know what was going on," she says.

Lewis says that he did not always tell Radcliffe as much as he should have.

"They would occasionally be annoyed when I would forget something," he says.

The Letter of the Law

Lewis says he would take out his copy of the 1977 agreement to remind officials of their place when Radcliffe tried to assert itself in undergraduate affairs. And by the end of its time as a college, Radcliffe wasn't doing anything a college does--it didn't offer classes, discipline or even feed students.

And Lewis has the calculating mind of a computer scientist. He loathes theoretical questions from interviewers, preferring instead to answer specifics. Lewis moves fast, thinks fast, fires out e-mail at an exceptional pace. He interpreted the 1977 Harvard Radcliffe agreement as taking Radcliffe out of undergraduate affairs almost completely.

He had the wording of the agreement to back up his premise that he, and only his office, should be involved in undergraduate affairs.

"Radcliffe will delegate to Harvard...all responsibility for undergraduate instruction and for the administration and management of undergraduate affairs" the document reads.

"Radcliffe had sometime ago ceased to be a college in reality," Lewis says.

But Radcliffe interpreted the agreement differently. After all, Radcliffe still technically admitted and graduated women undergraduates. Radcliffe said it wanted to maintain a watchdog role, making sure Harvard treated its women fairly.

But Lewis dismisses the idea that Radcliffe served as an advocate for women during his tenure.

"They didn't really do it," he says.

"In that way, I'm very appreciative...I never felt that we were being harangued."

If Lewis didn't feel like he was being "harangued," people close to Radcliffe say he was willing to out-muscle the women's college in any way possible.

In the fall of 1997, for example, Harvard College organized a celebration to commemorate the 25th anniversary of women living in the Yard.

In a ceremony that included Harvard officials and Renee Landers '74, then president of the Harvard Board of Overseers, the gate closest to Canaday Hall was dedicated to the history of coeducation.

Yet no acknowledgement was made in the ceremony of the institution that had made coeducation possible. Wilson, the president of Radcliffe, sat on the stage. But she had no speaking part in the ceremony.

"It was mind-boggling," an alumna says.

Avery says that Radcliffe felt "slighted."

With the ceremony months in the planning, and a formal event at that, Radcliffe officials concluded that they'd been intentionally--and publicly--slighted by Harvard College.

What Is To Come

Radcliffe--with its historic role as an advocate for women--is now a part of Harvard. Gone is the traditional agitator. Left is a dean who says he will not create a space for women only and who students, Radcliffe administrators and alumnae say is unresponsive to the issues of sexual harassment and sexual harassment.

"In one sense I admire Harvard for not encouraging division, but in another sense I see the cost," says Drew Gilpin Faust, the incoming dean of the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study, when asked about her thoughts on Harvard having a women's center.

But if Harvard and Lewis thought that along with the merger agreement, the Radcliffe irritant had at last faded away, Faust seems to have something different in mind.

The dean of the Institute will serve on the board that supervises the Trust's funds.

And Faust says that after attending this year's Gender at the Gates Conference, she is convinced she and the Institute have to speak out for women at Harvard.

Lewis said he found it "odd" that Wilson had a place with he and President Neil L. Rudenstine at the round table at Faculty meetings.

Yet Faust sees her place on the Dean's Council--also at Rudenstine's side--as her biggest opportunity for advocacy.

"Quite simply, we are going to become a voice for women at Harvard," Faust says. "I'm going to be the only female at the deans' roundtable and there is a motive to be an agitator...I'm not so sure that's the mission those people who hired me wanted me to have...but it needs to be done."