The Best?

Was Jim Thorpe the best all-around athlete of all time? No, not versatile enough. Babe Didrikson? Runner-up, perhaps. Well, who was? Harris Baldwin Fisher Jr., said Grantland Rice, and he wrote a column last week to prove it. Even the unconvinced would have to admit that Grant Rice's surprise selection was worth arguing for.

Harry Fisher, the all-around athlete most readers never heard of, learned the fundamentals at St. John's Military Academy, Manlius, N.Y. He was center on the basketball team, played first base and batted .527 on the ball club that won 37 straight, was end on the football team, which averaged 30-odd points a game.

An Army colonel's son with little money, he had many college offers. When he finally picked Princeton, he found Manhattan's sporting life too accessible, switched to Williams after ten days--"to get an education." There he earned professorial rating as the world's worst student, but coaches called him the best athlete in Williams' -- or any college's -- history.

A handsome fellow, 6 ft. 1 in. and 195 Ibs., with big, powerful hands, he had a natural sense of timing -- the secret of excellence in any sport. Twice mentioned for All-America, despite Williams' small-college schedule, Harry Fisher played end on football teams that lost only three games in three years. He once punted 96 yards. He was captain of basketball.

He just missed a national ranking in tennis, resigned his tennis captaincy to make time for baseball and golf. All told, he won 16 varsity letters.

After Williams, Harry Fisher turned pro, went around the world as a $50-a-week boxing instructor on the S. S. Franconia. Later he drifted into banking, peddled stocks in Manhattan and took up golf seriously, shot a 66. He started playing squash rackets in earnest and cleaned up tournaments around New York. Three years ago, when a match with hard-hitting John Doeg left him feeling wobbly, he threw away his racket and has never played since.

Now 43, Harry Fisher gets away from his desk at the Jacob Ruppert Brewery enough afternoons to keep his weight within five pounds of Williams days. Tennis and business golf are his main methods. "I'm no good at bowling," he says, although a lot of bowlers would be pleased to average 200 as he does. The only sport at which he is really poor is swimming.

"Me an athlete?" asks Harry Fisher. "I was clumsy as an ox. But college was sort of fun."

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