Jerry Fischer was a friend of mine in grad school. He had just begun composition studies in my second year at Truman State. Jerry was a non-trad. He had made his living in software sales of a system that he had devised that took him all over the world. He was an organ player who rarely missed mass. Most of all he was a family man who cared deeply for his wife, children and elderly mother. He had decided, though, that it was time to return to school and study composition. So he drove to Kirksville, Missouri from Quincy, Illinois every Friday for his lessons and the composers master class. He was quiet, thoughtful, kind and always thoroughly engaged. I didn't really get to know Jerry as well as I would have liked. But the person I was able to get to know was an extraordinarily good human being.
On this date three years ago Jerry was gunned down in his driveway by his business partner over a business disagreement. Later that school year we programmed on one of our composers concerts the only piece he completed as a student; a breezy set for flute and piano written about his three cats. It was an extremely emotional day as his family was there, too. And one I'll never forget.
Once again, you're remembered Jerry.
1 comment:
I remember one conversation with him where he made a half-joke about his business partner lacking ethics or morals. He said his partner sometimes worried/scared him. After the man lost control of his inner demons and took Jerry from us, memories of that conversation took on a haunting new meaning.
I still don't understand how passionate anger can have that much influence over someone's actions. I never will.
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