University of Rhode Island - Renaissance / Grist Yearbook (Kingston, RI)

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The Grist Page Tv A ' AS nature chose the spring of the year for the time of John Burroughs’s birth, so kind Providence selected Olneyville as the birthplace of our Herbert. When young, he was much like other children ; that is, he was small, but, with motherly care and advice, this l ittle difficulty was slowly outgrown. It is neither necessary nor wise to mention much of Fiske’s early life, as we know nothing about it, and, further, no legal city records con- cerning him are available. However, at this time it is no more than right that we suppose him to have had some education. Beginning with the kindergarten, little Herbert opened the throttle and started upon the train of school-life. Only short stops of a few days each were made in the pri- mary grades and the same thing was true in the grammar school. Then came the Johnston High School. Here he studied hard for three short years, when after graduation he found himself facing problems of work and the world. During the following two or three years, various Providence firms reaped the profits from his labor. By the way, Mr. Fiske has many differ- ent trades, some of which have been mastered and then dropped on short notice. Although he was often told that ten dollars a week would support two, he refused her proposal with the reply that it was not leap year. From that time on he resolved to have a college education. It was this motive that brought this young man, who is now our class president, to R. I. Col- lege with the class of 1908. Picture a thin, spare-faced, grandmother’s boy, dressed in a light summer suit and having a hungry look for study. This is Fiske as a Freshman. As he proved good in all his studies, we began to admire him as one of tested ability. The college orchestra soon attracted his attention, so with a big alto horn, he applied for admission, and was a howling success. Three short terms passed quickly by, and our classmate returned a Sophomore. He was then made class president, a position which he h as since filled most acceptably, having led and served ’08 well. The orchestra at this time had to find a new leader, and our “musician,” having changed to a violinist, was deemed worthy of that honor. To counteract the faults of our president, which by the way are very few, we can say that he has one great accomplishment, that of a “moving contractor.” For references apply to M. H. Tyler and T. C. Rodman. He is usually congenial and always appears happy; has a lovable nature — that is, one fair maiden says so — and often goes to Providence to share these concentrated affections. But may love be patient ! Then some day the class of 1908 will be proud to present its president to the one for whom he was created. P. S. He will probably be an electrical engineer. HERBERT “ANGEL” FISKE

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Page Twenty-c The Grist CLESSON HERBERT FIELD W’ r HETHER ’t was born or just “growed,” is a question to be de- cided by the reader himself. Anyway it first made its appearance in Brockton, the city of shoes. “Cy” received all his preparatory education in that home of ancient and modern footgear and early showed a leaning towards math, and engineering, though the latter was of a de- structive rather than a constructive nature. When he first turned up at R. I. C. as a Freshman, he acquired a great reputation for being a good judge of bad shoes. From all reports, he did this by looking wise and say- ing nothing. Immediately upon being enrolled as a student, Cyrus ex- pressed his profound contempt for anything not pertaining to highway engi- neering. During his first year he spent many sleepless nights in hard study; but since then under the civilizing influence of ’08 he has become more and more of a human being and less of a grind. Before he graduates we have hopes of his being perfectly rational. Cy’s temper is always of the best except in one instance; that is, the sight or mention of a red building. Somehow he seems to have an inexplicable aversion to red buildings, be they what they may, church, theater, or henhouse. Coming as he does from a long line of sturdy ancestors, Cyrus took to football as a duck does to water, and in his Freshman year made his mark (on several people) in this line of athletics. At basketball, also, he distinguished himself; but baseball proved his Waterloo, for he just failed to make good as water-boy. Cy spent his summer vacation, ’06, in Hoboken, N. J. From what he told us when he returned to college, we thought he had been chief engineer on the North River tunnels, but later information proves that that was just “air” leaking from his system. However that may be, what King Cyrus could n’t, or rather would n’t, tell about tunnel work would be of little importance. Though not at present eligible to active membership in the Matrimonial Club, his past experience entitles him to a position on the advisory board of this association. Well knowing Cy’s good nature, industry, and ability, we consider that but one question remains to be answered before acknowledging him as an honored member of ’08. That question is — Where was Cyrus when the lights went out?

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Page Twenty-three The Grist A“ k MONG April showers, back in the eighties, this ardent and faithful member of humanity was ushered from the unknown into the known. The earlier part of “Bob’s” life was spent in the little town of Wakefield, R. I., where he grew up with the fishes, oysters, and clams of Salt Pond. One day Bob saw the great ocean, and from that time on his one ambition was to sail on it aboard a war ship. But fate knew what was best for him and destined him for a chemist. With this purpose in view Bob entered Rhode Island College as a member of the class of ‘o8. Although one of the “quiet” members of the class, he became prominent in many ways and has faithfully done his part in the duties of his class. Bob is a fond lover of his teachers, fellow students and of the chemical labora- tory. He spends most of his time in this delightful building breaking ap- paratus and making explosives. The attractions of the laboratory are so many that he would rather room there than in any other place on the campus except at Watson House. The one pursuit besides chemistry that Bob de- lights in is drill. He was so fortunate as to secure the position of quarter- master-sergeant, and has performed the trying duties of this important office perfectly. The dignity with which he struts about adds much to the mili- tary appearance of the battalion, and by his aid the dignified Quartermaster Fiske has brought the ordnance department up to a state of perfection. Though not a Y. M. C. A. man, Bob is a model youth. Every day he at- tends chapel. Never does he waste valuable time in fussing. These he thinks are the two essentials for the making of a man. He delights in show- ing off his class pin, and well may he be proud, for he is one of the few of the ’08’s who can boast of not having “lost” this emblem. Bob is a sober, industrious fellow who never says much, but all he says counts. He never has been known to get excited, takes things as they come, and weighs them thoroughly. This is the kind of young man that the world needs, and we are sure that Bob will do credit to R. I. C. and to his class of 1908.