Strapped colleges keep leaders in luxury

Their counterparts at other private colleges reside in luxury as well, many on centuries-old estates surrounded by well-tended gardens and lawns cared for by loyal staffs. The homes, many provided by universities as part of their presidents’ compensation, are the ultimate perk in this college-rich region, but one that increasingly appears to represent a bygone era.

Now the opulence risks standing out amid frozen faculty salaries, widespread layoffs, and slashed programs. While the houses often serve an important ceremonial role and it is questionable how much money could be saved by their elimination, the very mention of them has elicited low-level grumbling on campuses and anxiety among university officials over the Globe’s request to tour them.

“It seems terribly unfair that people who are being laid off can’t even afford to make their modest mortgage payments, while people at the top are living in luxury,’’ said Desiree Goodwin, a Harvard library assistant who has seen dozens of workers lose their jobs across campus. “They’re not really being open about the kind of lifestyle they’re trying to maintain while making these cuts.’’

Goodwin acknowledges she’s never had the occasion to set foot in Elmwood, the 1767 home of Harvard president Drew Faust. The pale yellow 12-room Colonial and its carriage house sit behind a white fence on Cambridge’s Tory Row, where wealthy families loyal to the crown lived before the revolution.

The interiors of these homes remain a mystery even to many on their respective campuses. And when a reporter requested entry into eight of the residences, many of which do not pay property taxes to their municipalities, the doors to all but one remained resolutely closed.

Some schools’ public relations teams expressed concern that it wouldn’t look good to show off their presidents’ luxury quarters amid penny-pinching times. Those thoughts also crossed the mind of Wellesley president Kim Bottomly, but she ultimately concluded, “We have nothing to hide.’’

Last week, she opened her estate to a reporter and a photographer, even allowing a glimpse at her bedroom, which overlooks Lake Waban.

“I’m living here as a custodian of history,’’ Bottomly said of the 1854 home where Wellesley’s founders resided. “I’m proud to be able to show off the first building on campus.’’

Her colleagues were not as open. MIT and Harvard reported that their presidents simply were “not around.’’ The presidents of Tufts and Boston universities should be afforded a measure of privacy, said their spokespersons.

Details about their accommodations, scattered among the posh neighborhoods of Brookline, Newton, Cambridge, and Boston, could only be gleaned from public records, historical documents, university publications, interviews with those who have had the privilege of entering, and from sizing them up from the street.

Aoun’s 184-year-old Beacon Hill dwelling, which the school purchased in 2006, has “excellent feng shui,’’ according to an article in Northeastern’s alumni magazine. The 9,000-square-foot town house, located 2 miles from the university’s Roxbury campus, has four bedrooms, 7.5 bathrooms, a wood-paneled library, and two service pantries.

After all, college officials say, presidents need a place to host visiting dignitaries, entertain wealthy donors, and welcome students and neighbors.

In her home’s industrial-sized kitchen, Bottomly introduced her house manager, who oversees cleaning, maintenance, and event preparation, and her chef, who has cooked for Wellesley presidents for 31 years.

The house is grand, for sure, but also homey, including a stuffed platypus and bunny on her Shaker-style bed. French doors open onto a terrace with views of a rose garden and the lake where Bottomly and her husband kayak. A public walking trail runs through the backyard.

“It’s really like having a summer home,’’ Bottomly said of the gray clapboard house atop a hill.

Bottomly throws university events on the average of twice a week during the school year. She also invites 10 professors for informal weekly discussions around the fireplace. At one end of the living room is a grand piano that students play during parties.

Nationally, 28 percent of public and private college presidents live in university-owned housing, and another 20 percent receive a housing allowance, according to the most recent survey conducted by the American Council on Education. In Massachusetts, most public university chancellors receive a housing stipend.

Robert Atwell, president emeritus of the council and author of a book on presidential compensation, said college presidents may be reluctant to showcase their homes during a recession because “there’s an image issue here: presidents living in splendor.’’

At some private colleges, the longstanding tradition of free housing also extends to senior administrators, including provosts, deans, and even former presidents. College officials were reluctant to divulge how much it costs each year to house their leaders, and said that any savings, other than an outright sale, would be minimal, given the need to maintain and staff a space for entertaining luminaries. In some cases, the home was donated, making a sale impolitic.

Some have suggested, however, that presidents could take a pay cut to reflect the free housing they’re receiving.

Brandeis president Jehuda Reinharz lives 4 miles from his university’s Waltham campus, on a sprawling lot in a hilly Newton neighborhood. The six-bedroom stucco home, encircled by hemlocks, oaks, and blue spruce trees, was selected by the university’s first president for its spacious grounds and privacy.

BU houses its president, Robert Brown, in an imposing Brookline mansion built of puddingstone in 1851. University officials say Brown has a housekeeper, but no chef, and BU, which bought the house in 1994, pays taxes on the five-bedroom home, assessed at $5.3 million.

Across the river, Tufts president Lawrence Bacow resides in a red brick Georgian-style house built in 1938, where he regularly invites students for breakfast after his training runs with them for the Boston Marathon. Those who have been there say it’s comfortable and warm, more “Better Homes and Gardens’’ than “Architectural Digest.’’

At MIT one afternoon last week, a recent graduate in neuroscience peered over a concrete wall at the president’s garden. There was a small fountain, a barbecue grill, and a bronze statue of a beaver (MIT’s mascot). The former student, who did not want his name published, said he spent his four years at MIT living in a dorm that overlooks Hockfield’s riverfront home.

But he’s never been inside the Gray House, as it’s known. Nor have any of his friends, although MIT officials insist that students are regularly invited.

“The youngest person I’ve seen in there has white hair,’’ he said.

Tracy Jan can be reached at tjan@globe.com.