Joey Fischer was hard to ignore. He was smart, loud, talented and unusual. One day he wore his Boy Scout uniform to school-it was so tight, maybe it was his CUB scout uniform. The entire uniform, badges, pins, kerchief , all the heraldry. He once tormented me for an eternity in the empty halls of Heights after some play rehearsal, trying to get me to guess who he was imitating - over and over at the top of his lungs. I was a Heights transplant, such a Catholic school product, and everything about Heights seemed frightening, including the maniac preventing me from returning to the safety of my home. Finally in desperation, I said "Ether Merman?"
"YES!!!!!!!" - and with that he flew off, doing forward full body flips till he was a dot on the hallway horizon. An original. We became friends. He begged me to do a funny graduation speech instead of the predictible drivel I had written, which even I forget.
Years later we were neighbors in the West Village, and saw each other fairly often for selfish and ambitious young New Yorkers. I think we always were a little sad about the fact that we had changed just enough that our relationship was only historical. The last time I saw him was at the birthday party he threw - for his dog, with all the festivity of something for a six year old. I miss him still, thinking sometimes I see him, being pulled down the street by his sweet golden twice his size and strength. I am happy to offer this paltry tribute to this hypercreative and lovely guy, who was wildly ahead of his (with apologies to myself and my classmates) dull high school fellows.
In fact, there is a photo in the yearbook of him in thst uniform. My yesrbooks were tossed from the lifeboat years ago, so maybe someone else can post it?
Mary O'Connor
Joey Fischer was hard to ignore. He was smart, loud, talented and unusual. One day he wore his Boy Scout uniform to school-it was so tight, maybe it was his CUB scout uniform. The entire uniform, badges, pins, kerchief , all the heraldry. He once tormented me for an eternity in the empty halls of Heights after some play rehearsal, trying to get me to guess who he was imitating - over and over at the top of his lungs. I was a Heights transplant, such a Catholic school product, and everything about Heights seemed frightening, including the maniac preventing me from returning to the safety of my home. Finally in desperation, I said "Ether Merman?"
"YES!!!!!!!" - and with that he flew off, doing forward full body flips till he was a dot on the hallway horizon. An original. We became friends. He begged me to do a funny graduation speech instead of the predictible drivel I had written, which even I forget.
Years later we were neighbors in the West Village, and saw each other fairly often for selfish and ambitious young New Yorkers. I think we always were a little sad about the fact that we had changed just enough that our relationship was only historical. The last time I saw him was at the birthday party he threw - for his dog, with all the festivity of something for a six year old. I miss him still, thinking sometimes I see him, being pulled down the street by his sweet golden twice his size and strength. I am happy to offer this paltry tribute to this hypercreative and lovely guy, who was wildly ahead of his (with apologies to myself and my classmates) dull high school fellows.
Mary O'Connor
In fact, there is a photo in the yearbook of him in thst uniform. My yesrbooks were tossed from the lifeboat years ago, so maybe someone else can post it?