The office of Law School professor Arthur Miller looks crowded and seems hectic. As he signs a stack of letters behind a desk covered with files, his secretary tells him his vest is being tailored in New York for "Good Morning, America" and that Channel 5 wants to know what his segment for their newscast that night is about. One of two nearby assistants comments that this week's episode of the nationally syndicated "Miller's Court" looks especially good. Commenting on his contributions to several television programs, Miller says "I have to avoid being captured by the medium." But the articulate and straightforward Miller places his television career into perspective. "I look at [it] as my middle-age toy," he adds.

Not far away on the same Law School campus, Professor Charles Nesson '60 sits alone in a modest office decorated in subdued colors which seem to reflect his manner both in person and on television. From this unassuming office, the soft-spoken evidence specialist has frequently made plans to host ABC's "Viewpoint," a special news broadcast that examines the media itself. He and Miller have also moderated separate CBS specials about the media and both appear in "That Delicate Balance," a 12-part public television series that analyzes the constitution.

Television not only enables these professors to extend the size of their classrooms, but also to work with people who might never turn up for a first-year lecture. And when Barbara Walters, Dan Rather, and Lauren Bacall spend time with Nesson and Miller examining issues like privacy, most likely thousands of viewers will tune in. "I've spent 15 years examining the issue of privacy." Miller says, adding "And now I have none." But Miller does not bemoan his loss of privacy, explaining that when he feels down and someone yells from a moving car, "'Hey Arthur, great show last week,' then I feel a lot better."

Their similar contributions notwithstanding, Nesson and Miller view their work in television differently. Despite offers from two networks, Nesson has decided to end his television career, and to concentrate his time on law school-related matters and legal writing. While Miller says that he frequently turns down offers from television and radio stations as well, he has no plans for stopping his TV work and still manages to appear on TV fairly regularly.

Given the Law School's reputation and its faculty's achievements, it seems natural, then, that when a business needs outside legal advice, it often calls upon Harvard professors. So when the producers of "Good Morning, America" and a local Boston newscast wanted an on-air legal expert, they asked Miller, a nationally renowned expert on civil procedure appointed by Supreme Court Chief Justice Warren Burger to serve on one of the court's advisory committees. Similarly, when Fred Friendly, the former president of CBS News, needed three experts to moderate his "Media and Society" seminars and his PBS series, "That Delicate Balance," he chose two from Harvard--Nesson and Miller. According to Friendly, both men have easygoing manners that often camouflage their expertise and ability to advance arguments quickly and smoothly. "I see them both as a combination of Socrates and Phil Donahue," Friendly says, "More Socrates, I guess, but Phil's there, too."

Though both Nesson and Miller are widely regarded as excellent on TV, their mere presence raises eyebrows, with some questioning the propriety of taking the Socratic method and their expertise out of Langdell Hall and into a commercial environment peopled by Phil Donahues. Although other professors take on consulting jobs, they do so in a less public manner than either Nesson or Miller. As the latter explains, "The cross I bear is that my work is so visible." And because their work is so visible, Nesson and Miller provide an opportunity for people to examine the possible benefits and drawbacks that arise when a Harvard Law School professor deals not only with Harvard Law School students, but also with the public at large.

James Vorenberg '49, dean of the Law School, recently set guidelines seeking to create a delicate balance between a professor's academic and non-academic work. According to the guidelines, a law professor should spend no more that 20 percent of his working time on nonacademic activities. "But the guidelines are fairly indefinite." Nesson believes, adding "Does 'working time' include nights or weekends?"

Nesson recently decided on his own to end his professional relationship with Friendly as well as to refuse two attractive offers from CBS and ABC. Each network hoped Nesson would work in its news division on a more regular basis, while retaining his position at Harvard. Unlike Miller, though, Nesson thought he was being captured by the medium.

"I felt I was becoming a television person, which may be okay for some people. It got to the point where people would ask me to come do 'my act,' and I was beginning to think of it like that, too," he says. "I don't mean to knock the seminars or "That Delicate Balance," he continues. "They're the best way TV's come up with yet to explore complicated issues."

But Nesson realizes that television often doesn't afford the time needed for intellectual investigation. "I thought about the issues on the CBS program for three months beforehand," he says. The ABC and CBS offers might have lessened such preparation time to one week.

More important, though, Nesson also believes that "there comes a time when a person can cease to be a full functioning member of an institution." At that point he adds. "You have to decide if you want your institution to be a base from which to catapult yourself. That can have a dehabilitating effect on students and other professors, who might think. 'Why am I killing myself when Jones is making megabucks?'"

Miller makes no apologies for his work on television. "The law school suffers only if you believe that each and every member of the faculty should sit at a desk seven days a week," he says. "That's ridiculous. The question is whether I'd be doing "Good Morning, America" or consulting with law firms in New York. I do less outside work than many of my colleagues," he continues.

In addition, Miller has always taught a full load, and, he says, "my scholarly output is more extensive than that of several other professors here. If there's any shortfall," he adds, "it's that I'm not as involved with faculty meetings. But that has nothing to do with TV. I've been teaching for 21 years and listening to discussions about classroom evaluations gets boring. They're people who say I should be writing footnotes. Well, I've written footnotes for 20 years."

Miller insists that, all told, his work in television consumes no more than one full day a week. And he apparently finds little trouble filling the other six. He considers himself an academic first; a judicial consultant second; a writer third; and a television personality fourth. "Actually," insists Miller, "I'm less a workaholic today than I used to be."

Miller, however, takes his case beyond a justification of his right to appear on television, explaining his work in terms of duty and responsibility. "My primary motivation is that I'm an educator," he says. "If this is the greatest law school faculty, then it's the height of arrogance to say that we can only teach the fortunate few at Harvard. I hope to demystify and humanize the law for thousands who are ignorant of it. Even "The People's Court" is better than "Kojak."