Ed School's 'Castle' Receives Its First Visitors

The newest monument to the New Harvard, the Roy E. Larsen Hall at the Ed School, received its first callers yesterday. A group of old Cambridge ladies, a priest, and a few merely curious toured its nine floors of light-controlled, heat-regulated bare cinder block halls and unfurnished beige rooms. The building, they decided, backed soul.

"The architect really had lots of guts on pull something like this," Charles Babcock, the architect's Harvard liaison turned public relations man for the day, said. "Air-conditioning and modern lighting have made windows old-fashioned."

The thick brick building with slit-like windows was so designed because of lack of space and money, Babcock explained. "But like all good designs, it turned out to be very expensive--about $1.5 million. We made a lot of changes. The TV studio wasn't in the original plans. We had to raise the said his life is intertwined with ceiling two feet for that. WGBH will pull their truck right in here," gesturing at the dusty courtyard, "until Harvard starts its own station in the fall. Before long the whole University will be interconnected by television."

The TV station should be ready for the official opening of the building in January. It is rumored that Dean Sizer would like to televise the ceremony.

Babcock, having discussed money difficulties, turned to space problems. "No structure in Cambridge can be more than 98.6 feet. This is over 100, so we had to build below ground. We've got an extra 14 feet of penthouse on top, but that doesn't count."

Nature Crumbles

There have also been width problems. Harvard tried to buy the adjacent land for $100,000; but the owner, a college teacher and former Harvard M.A., refused to sell unless Harvard gave him an honorary Ph.D. "The owner," Babcock said, "refused to leave his house as long as the tree in front of it stood that tree. But the University may get the property soon. The tree died last summer."

Then the group entered the building that was designed to "lead Harvard architecture out of the dark ages." A workman led them into an elevator and pushed the button for the ninth floor. Nothing happened. "Dirt," the workman explained. "This is the worst part--cleaning it up." "Perhaps," a white-haired lady sighed, "it will look better when it's tidy."

Once on the top floor Babcock demonstrated the marvels of modernization. "The lighting is all centrally controlled," he said. "You just dial a light. It's like dialing a prayer."

Problems

"I hope," the priest said, "there's lighting control in all the rooms." "No," Babcock answered, "just in the halls." "And no window," a lady in a flowered hat said, shaking her head. "How do you like this view," Babcock asked, after descending a few floors. "As you can see," he said, gesturing at the Radcliffe Quadrangle below, "this is only the start of the School." I wouldn't be surprised if the School had the whole quadrangle some day--although that's just a guess." A few members of Radcliffe's 50th Reunion class flinched.

The group then picked its way down a windowless staircase, over workmen and plaster, and into the sunlight of the first floor. "My," a Reunioner whispered, "I hope the air conditioning never goes off." Babcock was showing them the TV studio, the IBM room, and the teaching machine room when the bells from neighboring Christ Church, an old grey building with windows, rang out.

"Is there a representative from Christ Church here," asked Babcock. "Yes," a lady answered, "and I'm not happy." "Do you think," her companion demanded, "that the Ed School is really proud of this building?" Babcock smiled and gestured toward the completely glassed-in IBM complex. "Progress," he said, smiling.

The TV station should be ready for the official opening of the building in January. It is rumored that Dean Sizer would like to televise the ceremony.

Babcock, having discussed money difficulties, turned to space problems. "No structure in Cambridge can be more than 98.6 feet. This is over 100, so we had to build below ground. We've got an extra 14 feet of penthouse on top, but that doesn't count."

Nature Crumbles

There have also been width problems. Harvard tried to buy the adjacent land for $100,000; but the owner, a college teacher and former Harvard M.A., refused to sell unless Harvard gave him an honorary Ph.D. "The owner," Babcock said, "refused to leave his house as long as the tree in front of it stood that tree. But the University may get the property soon. The tree died last summer."

Then the group entered the building that was designed to "lead Harvard architecture out of the dark ages." A workman led them into an elevator and pushed the button for the ninth floor. Nothing happened. "Dirt," the workman explained. "This is the worst part--cleaning it up." "Perhaps," a white-haired lady sighed, "it will look better when it's tidy."

Once on the top floor Babcock demonstrated the marvels of modernization. "The lighting is all centrally controlled," he said. "You just dial a light. It's like dialing a prayer."

Problems

"I hope," the priest said, "there's lighting control in all the rooms." "No," Babcock answered, "just in the halls." "And no window," a lady in a flowered hat said, shaking her head. "How do you like this view," Babcock asked, after descending a few floors. "As you can see," he said, gesturing at the Radcliffe Quadrangle below, "this is only the start of the School." I wouldn't be surprised if the School had the whole quadrangle some day--although that's just a guess." A few members of Radcliffe's 50th Reunion class flinched.

The group then picked its way down a windowless staircase, over workmen and plaster, and into the sunlight of the first floor. "My," a Reunioner whispered, "I hope the air conditioning never goes off." Babcock was showing them the TV studio, the IBM room, and the teaching machine room when the bells from neighboring Christ Church, an old grey building with windows, rang out.

"Is there a representative from Christ Church here," asked Babcock. "Yes," a lady answered, "and I'm not happy." "Do you think," her companion demanded, "that the Ed School is really proud of this building?" Babcock smiled and gestured toward the completely glassed-in IBM complex. "Progress," he said, smiling.