<p> Haviland was born in Rome, N.Y., but grew up in a village across the Hudson River from Poughkeepsie, on a road now named Haviland Road. The road received its name from his great grandfather, grandfather, and father, all of whom had been heavily involved in the apple farming of the region and had their businesses along that road. Back when he was a boy, his family spent a lot of time in a local bar, which could be equated to today’s family restaurant-type establishments. It was growing up in this bar that his interest in architecture began.

<p> "One of the most colorful guys in this bar was an architect. He was the only architect in town, and I thought he was just fantastic," recalled Haviland. He started getting reading materials and samples from this architect, and as early as six years old, he knew that he wanted to be an architect. Later, when nearing graduation from high school, he was instructed by his guidance counselor to apply to Rensselaer or MIT, and was accepted to both, but thanks to a New York State scholarship received more financial aid to attend Rensselaer. once he arrived, Haviland stayed in Troy, NY.

<p> "That was a shock, and it’s still a shock— that I would have ended up staying in one place for my whole career. It was a matter of opportunities opening," he explains. Staying on after receiving his bachelor’s degree in architecture in 1965, he remained at the Center for Architectural Research for graduate work. "I was doing really exciting stuff in ‘new media,’ which at the time was rear-screen projection, overhead projection, and television," states Haviland. After completing graduate work, he became a faculty member and went on to head the center. In 1972, he was made associate dean of the school of architecture, and was then recruited by the newly–elected President George Low for special assignments. "I did a series of campus planning projects, I chaired a provost search. I got involved in a variety of things. Just as I was about ready to go somewhere else, I got the Institute-wide perspective," he mentions.

<p> And it was a good thing, too. A few years later, he was asked by the president and faculty to take over the deanship for the School of Architecture, without a search. He had already been serving as acting dean for a year, but was made a full dean in 1980. "It’s been my circumstance that I’ve held four acting positions here, and each of the four times I have gone on to attain the full position. It’s always been my philosophy that when you’re ‘acting,, you act. It’s not to get the job, it’s to get the job done," he offers. At the end of nine years at the helm of the School of Architecture, he felt it was time to move on. "I called up the provost, and mentioned that I wanted to step down, and it was fine," remembers Haviland. But his respite as a regular professor was short-lived. From 1990-1993, besides teaching "like crazy," he was also writing, editing, and assembling the 12th edition of the Architect’s Handbook of Professional Practice, which he was very excited to work on (he had previously worked as editor of the 11th edition).

It was in 1993, when President R. Byron Pipes arrived and began to redesign his cabinet, that the PU and GM recommended that Haviland become the new vice president for student affairs. "I had never done student affairs work, but on the other hand I had always been interested in students," says Haviland. He had established relationships with health services, admissions, and athletics over the years, and he felt that student life was ready for the "next phase." Taking the helm of student life, he approached it from the perspective of an architect approaching a new project. "I’m a designer. I look at the landscape, and I decide what the next moves need to be," he says. "There are a set of values at the core [of an organization]. You build on that to create a structure, whether it’s a building or an organization. When you find out what people are investing in, it tells you where their values are," offers Haviland.

As vice president for student affairs, he eliminated the physical education requirements, expanded the success of varsity sports, implemented the new registration system for classes, and redesigned the health services on campus, among other monumental changes. But when President Jackson arrived, Haviland was assigned to write portions of The Rensselaer Plan. At the end of that process, the Institute Advancement vice presidency became vacant, and he seemed prime for the position. "I wanted it to be on an acting basis, because I didn’t know if I would like it or be good at it. But after six months, I was asked to take the position on a permanent basis. Interestingly, it turns [us] back to the values of our alumni," he remarks. In working with some alumni, Haviland finds that he was a professor during their undergraduate years, and feels that it gives him an edge in understanding the different campus culture some of them experienced. "One of the reasons I signed on for this job, is that I get to be very close to the seat of change on campus. We are building a coalition of alums, and friends, and corporations ... and you’ll see Rensselaer more and more in the media," mentions Haviland.

In the future, Haviland is very excited about Institute Ad-

vancement’s coming capital campaign, which is currently in quiet stages. Once again, at the core of this campaign will be values. "It will be driven by the priorities of The Rensselaer Plan," Haviland remarks. "When talking about student life, there are priorities in their plan that will become the priorities of the campaign. Every year, we will bring the highest priority items to the top and seek to get them funded."