Top Yard Cop
June 15, 1973: Harvard's 322nd Commencement Day; warm, sunny, tranquil.
As the resplendent academic procession forms, a tall, distinguished-looking man suits up in borrowed regalia. ROBERT TOMS'31 is taking advantage of the calm to join his faculty and administrative colleagues at Commencement - for the first time in his 11-year tenure as Harvard's police chief.
The contrast in ambiance is sharp between this ceremony and those of the turbulent '60s, sharper still between the peaceful 1972-73 academic year and the trauma of May 1969, when 400 outside policemen were called in to oust radical students from their 17-hour occupation of University Hall, when Toniś office was the command post and the now-familiar personage of Law Professor Archibald Cox the designated University spokesman. No more than any other college administrator can Tonis pinpoint precisely the reason for the change. "Maybe it's that the war is over, that ROTC is gone."
Since 1962 when he left 27 years' service with the Federal Bureau of Investigation to become Harvard's "Top Cop," Tonis has been called upon to deal with the whole spectrum of campus problems - from panty raids through the takeover to the thievery which is the current plague. He's approached them all with the same blend of humor and humanity, firmness and fidelity to the overriding principle that the department's duty is to protect the people and property of the Harvard community.
The chief is proud of his force of 74 men, who share his commitment to the service function of the Yard Cops. They're "absolutely fearless," he claims, oblivious of personal safety. On the other hand, they're accessible, friendly, ready to help a student with a push for a stalled car or a tip on where to cash a check after banking hours. Their skill at "cooling it," Tonis is convinced, kept injuries to a minimum in the supercharged atmosphere of the Big Bust. "If the police don't behave properly in a situation like that, they can create violence," he points out.
The reservoir of good will between the university police and the students is no happenstance. It is a rapport deliberately cultivated, based on mutual respect. Getting to know the Yard Cops is an important part of freshman orientation, understanding their role an equally essential facet of on-the-job training for police recruits. "If they want to argue and hassle people, they can put their badges on the desk and forget it," Tonis emphasizes.
The recruits come from a variety of backgrounds and jobs; few are ex-cops. The only prerequisites for the job are intelligence, good health, and the ability to drive a car. There is little turnover in the force, and those who leave almost invariably go on to greater opportunities in the same line of work.
No "brushing out" is permitted at Harvard's police headquarters. Requests or complaints meet with courteous response. Telephone callers are never asked "Who is calling?" much less why.
One notable reason for Tonis' enviable success in a sensitive Position is that he genuinely likes students. Another is that he's Widely involved in university life. He's a freshman adviser, a responsibility he takes very seriously and enjoys immensely. His advisees, who this year include for the first time two women, find in the chief a surrogate father, a confidant, and - on occasion - a friend who will go to bat for them with their parents. They're in his office often to discuss problems or just talk, and he keeps up with many of them as upperclassmen and alumni. He is also on the administrative staff of Adams House, an undergraduate residence. A popular public speaker, the chief delights student audiences with a lecture on "Prostitutes I Have Known," drawn from his days with the FBI vice squad.
The infinite academic world of Harvard is his oyster, and he regularly takes one course each term. This fall it was History of Jazz; others among the 38 he's completed have been Italian Literature, Art History, Black Fiction, Dante, and History of the New Testament. He is an honorary member of the undergraduate literary society.
A native of Brockton, Mass., Tonis earned a law degree from Boston University after graduating in English from Dartmouth. With jobs scarce and risks high in private practice in 1934, he went directly from law school to the FBI.
The Tonises, their four children grown and settled, live right on the ocean at Hull, where the beaches and shore birds, the storms and tides are absorbing companions of their life. For a time they commuted into Boston by boat, although they now take the extended subway system directly to Harvard Square, close by his headquarters in the Yard and her desk in the Board of Overseers' office. Their transportation to the Harvard-Dartmouth game this year was a lobster boat the chief helped crew from far Down East in Maine last summer.
With retirement not far off, Tonis claims no plans. But with bee colonies to expand, an extensive record collection of jazz and the classics to listen to, a violin he used to play with amateur music groups to tune up again, the book reviews he occasionally writes for Boston papers, the sea and the birds to watch, it seems unlikely that time will hang heavy. If it should, Harvard reputedly offers a few more courses he hasn't taken yet.
Paul Connell-Boston Globe
