They were presidents of big universities and small colleges; leaders of British schools and American research institutions; sons and daughters of Harvard and people who never studied in Widener Library. And yet, these very different provosts, presidents, and prize-winners all had one thing in common: they did not want to become the next president of Harvard University.

With the Board of Overseers’ approval of Harvard historian Drew Gilpin Faust as the University’s 28th president forthcoming, observers of the process offer a number of explanations as to why the most promising candidates from outside Cambridge did not seem interested in Mass. Hall’s corner office: poor timing, the reputation of Harvard’s faculty, the looming giant of Allston, and the intense media scrutiny.

The presidents of Brown, Columbia, Duke, the University of Pennsylvania, Princeton, and Tufts all denied interest in Harvard’s top job. Some did so with a gust of humor (Duke President Richard H. Brodhead: “What a foolish question. I already have a great job”) and others with a gasp of exasperation (head of Penn Amy Gutmann ’71, who made it deep into the search that resulted in Lawrence H. Summers’ selection six years ago: “I am absolutely committed to being Penn’s president, and I am not interested in any other presidency”).

Such denials have become standard in presidential searches of elite institutions as university leaders, facing pressure from trustees and other groups at home, are compelled to demonstrate loyalty to their current schools. In his unusually public flirtation with Harvard in 2001, presidential runner-up Lee C. Bollinger risked alienating the University of Michigan, where he was president at the time.

The search committee placed itself in a difficult position by seeking candidates with academic administrative experience—a prerequisite according to professors and administrators alike—and then attempting to lure those leaders away from their current institutions.

But no one among the select group of Ivy presidents and their peers turned out to be a finalist for the Harvard position. The committee members ignored public denials of all candidates, according to individuals familiar with the search.

But there were three statements that the committee probably had trouble ignoring—those of the outside candidates that are said to have been considered most seriously. Thomas R. Cech, the head of the Howard Hughes Medical Institute, told The Crimson last week that he had withdrawn his name from consideration. Stanford Provost John W. Etchemendy acted similarly, telling The Crimson two weeks ago, “I am not a candidate, either in my own eyes, or, I trust, in the eyes of the search committee.” Alison F. Richard, the University of Cambridge chief, told The Crimson in January that her commitment to Cambridge was “unequivocal.”

At a time when it seemed more people had denied interest in Harvard’s presidency—at least 11 did so publicly—than could possibly be legitimate candidates, these three “no’s” were the loudest and most meaningful.

WARY OF THE ‘MACHINE’

What turned such promising candidates away from what some consider the world’s leading university?

“Maybe some of them are not interested in Harvard,” Weary Professor of German and Comparative Literature Judith L. Ryan suggests. “There are surely different points of view about whether it’s more desirable to be at Cambridge, for example, than at Harvard. It doesn’t surprise me that Cech wants to continue doing lab research, which would be impossible if he were president of a large university like Harvard.”

Undoubtedly, some Harvard watchers and gadflies will blame the Faculty of Arts and Sciences and its cantankerous professors who, through their contentious relations with the previous president, not only emptied Mass. Hall but also deterred future leaders.

Former Classics Chair Richard F. Thomas says that the Summers contretemps has influenced how Harvard is currently perceived.

“I suspect many possible candidates might have declined because there’s a certain amount of anti-Harvard sentiment out there, even in universities where they should know better,” he said.

But it is a claim that many professors reject.

History Department Chair Andrew D. Gordon ’74 calls the view that his colleagues cannot be led “idiotic,” although he concedes, “it is out there.”

Ryan blames the disappearance of strong outside candidates on loose lips.

“My view is that the press leaks made it awkward for people who were being considered. Don’t forget that this is a job one doesn’t apply for, and thus some of them may have felt upset that their names were being bandied around in the press.”

The nature of the position, with expansion of the campus into Allston looming on the horizon, may have discouraged many candidates, Thomas says.

“It’s a sort of perfect storm of the perceived crisis of Summers, and fictions about unruly faculty, an actual crisis, and a well-advertised moved into Allston,” Thomas says. “I could imagine someone in their 40s or 50s thinking, do I want to be eaten up by a machine like that?”

AGE AND TIMING

Perhaps the most glaring problem was the lack of candidates who had the right trio of qualifications: a combination of experience, an appetite for change and challenge, and a tie to Harvard.

Among the 22 confirmed candidates, only two were in their 40s. Fifteen were in their 50s while five were in their 60s. Charles W. Eliot, Class of 1853, became president in 1868 at the ripe age of 35. Derek C. Bok and Summers, who became president at the ages of 40 and 46 respectively. Faust is 59 and, like Neil L. Rudenstine—the first man since before World War I to be chosen president while in his 50s—she will not occupy Mass. Hall for a 20-year tenure.

The last two presidents—Summers and Rudenstine—came from outside of Harvard, but both had deep ties to the University, where they spent years as graduate students. Neither Cech, Etchemendy, nor Richard studied or taught here. Of the 22 confirmed candidates, only 11 went to or taught at Harvard.

The search also suffered from poor timing. Since the process began that resulted in the selection of Summers in 2001, five other Ivy League schools have picked new leaders. With Richard’s appointment at Cambridge in 2003 and Brodhead’s appointment at Duke the same year, seven highly touted higher education leaders have become ensconced in elite institutions elsewhere.

In this storm of events, a low-profile dean was launched from a quiet research institution to academia’s loudest stage.

—Staff writer Samuel P. Jacobs can be reached at jacobs@fas.harvard.edu.