Inducted in 2022
Administrative Assistant, Prep Prefect of Discipline Office (1935-1937)
Pilot, US Air Force
Attorney
Co-Founder, Columba Children's Home & Bupyong Orphanage, Korea
Community Organizer

If the biography of fellow Prep Hall of Honor inductee Fr. Michael Nash reads like a sweeping 19th-century American epic, then the life and times of Col. John “Jack” Fischer are nothing short of a 20th-century cinematic masterpiece — a tale involving a great white bird, the Western Electric Model 302 telephone in a Jesuit’s office, an early American skyscraper on Broadway, air battles over Europe, a cobbled-together chordophone in a prisoner of war camp, a commandeered plane, a wartime proposal and a love story for the ages, a cross-country roadtrip, mercy missions in Asia, closed-door meetings at the Pentagon, and warbler calls on the shores of Paumanok.

And it all began — as many great stories have, in fact — in the Bronx.

John Joseph Fischer was born in New York City’s northernmost borough on February 24, 1914. His father, William Fischer, was a steamfitter by trade who eventually hung up his toolbelt and took a position with the Bronx County Commissioner of Jurors’ Office; his mother, Katherine Towey Fischer, left behind a secretarial career in order to raise her large family — John was one of eight Fischer children and grew up with a brother and six sisters: Mary, William, Katherine, Helen, Joan, Claire, and Patricia. Jack’s brother Bill would also attend the Prep, a member of the Class of 1933.

From an early age, Jack Fischer was both an academically gifted and hardworking student — so much so that he was able to skip 7th Grade. Graduating St. Athanasius in 1927, Jack would make his way north past the Bronx Zoo to begin his time at Rose Hill, entering the Prep that September with the support of his parents and the assistance of the entire St. Athanasius community: the pastor and parishioners were able to pull together a scholarship to help with the talented young man’s Fordham tuition.

Unexpectedly, the first leg of Jack’s Hughes Hall career was not nearly as smooth as he thought it would be. Having skipped 7th Grade, the honors student soon realized that he had never learned some of the grammatical and mathematical basics needed to keep up with the rigor of the Prep’s classes — most especially Greek, Latin and algebra. It was a humbling experience for Jack, but one that would teach him to face difficult situations head on. “Thanks to the Jesuits,” Fischer would always say, he spent a semester catching up and learning how to study, and was able to begin his freshman year afresh at the start of the February semester — a possibility in those days when the Prep was still a division of Fordham University and followed the College’s calendar.

During his high school career, the boy from Faile Street was very involved with many aspects of Prep life. In addition to serving on the Student Government as a class officer, Jack competed with the Debating Society, ran with the Track Team, raised his voice at Mass with the Glee Club, and played violin with the Orchestra. But those were only his official extracurriculars. It seems that along the way, young Mr. Fischer was known to lend his time and talent to just about every school organization, group, or association on the books. In the words of his classmates: “John readily understood the meaning of school spirit” and “invariably joined in any activity.”

Outside of school, Jack was a hunter and fisherman. “Fisherman,” in fact, was one of his Hughes Hall nicknames: a play on his last name as well as a nod to his love of the outdoors. Of the many hunting trips he would take with his father during his boyhood, one particularly poignant excursion would resonate with him always. It was winter, and his dad accidently shot and killed a rare snowy owl — to both of their horror. In that moment, Jack’s lifelong love of birds was born — an interest that would remain with him all his days, and that would certainly play no small part in his future career in flight.

Graduating the Prep in February of 1932 — the Prep offered two annual graduations in those years — Fischer would continue his Rose Hill career at the University, earning his undergraduate degree in 1935. He would then become a three-time Fordham man by matriculating at Fordham Law, still housed, in those days, in the iconic Woolworth Building in Tribeca. He would graduate in 1939.

During these years, John “Jack” Fischer would add one final credential to his Maroon résumé: member of the Prep staff. From 1935 through 1937, he would serve as an administrative assistant in the Office of the Prefect of Discipline. At the time, of course, the prefect was none other than the legendary Fr. Arthur Shea, a man whom Jack greatly respected and admired and who would remain a friend of the Fischer family all his days.

Well before the bombing of Pearl Harbor in 1940, with a law degree after his name, Fischer enlisted in the Army Air Corps — the precursor of the Air Force: his patriotic and dutiful response to the growing sense of crisis in the world. He received his commission of 2nd Lieutenant in 1941 and spent the next two years as a flight instructor in Texas.

In 1943, Fischer transferred to a fighter unit at Mitchel Field on Long Island, named, incidentally, for fellow Prep alum and Hall of Honor inductee, John Purroy Mitchel, Class of 1894, and spent the next year flying P-47 Thunderbolts, escorting bombers on their way to Germany. In January of 1944, the newly-promoted Major Fischer was shot down over Germany during a mission.

“All hell broke loose in my cockpit. There were bullet holes in the instrument panel and the canopy and I was in a tight spin. The plane
was on fire. I got the canopy open and some of the smoke out of the cockpit. The spin had me glued to the seat.

The flames were coming around my legs and burning my wrists. The right arm of my leather jacket was on fire. My overalls were being
burned off to the hips. The right side of my face was blistering. I couldn’t wait to die — really, I couldn’t. I just kept saying the prayer my
mother had always said: ‘Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,’

During one of the violent spins, the plane flipped over and threw me out. I loved how cool it felt.

I must have been at 27 or 28 thousand feet. I was so happy to be out of the plane and brushing the flames that I was in free fall until I hit the
undercast at 3000 feet. Thank God the clouds were there, because that’s when I remembered to pull the ripcord.”

Four weeks later, a telegram would arrive at Jack’s parents’ house. His younger sister, Claire, 19 at the time, answered a knock at the door — a Western Union man. “He’s alive,” she screamed. “He’s a prisoner of war!”

Major Fischer would remain a POW at Stalag Luft One for the next fifteen months. Though seriously wounded, he would use his legal training to defend his fellow prisoners who were spuriously being tried for war crimes by the Nazis. Moreover, despite his own situation, the one-time Prep performer did all he could to console and lift the morale of the other captives, most notably by playing a violin that had been made from wooden bed-slats and strung with catgut gotten from a German guard willing to obtain the strings and trade them for cigarettes. Decades later, in the 1980s, a retired Col. Fischer would play that very violin with the New York Philharmonic aboard the Intrepid Air and Space Museum to open an exhibit about World War II POWs.

Freed by Russian forces at the end of the war, Jack immediately “borrowed” an aircraft and flew to Belgium to propose to fellow Fordham alum Eleanor Donohue, the head of the Red Cross unit stationed with the 238th Hospital Group. The lovely and valiant humanitarian — she had held her own when her hospital was bombed during the Battle of the Bulge — said yes. Returning to the States, Jack and Eleanor would make their home on Long Island where they raised eight children: Eleanor, Kathryn John, Jr., William, Joseph, Thomas, Francis and Mary — three of whom would go on to earn their own Maroon credentials at the University.

After the War, the Purple Heart recipient and former POW would spend the mid-1940s touring the United States as an advocate for veterans returning to civilian life.

In the 1950s, the onset of the Korean War would again call Jack, now a colonel, overseas. The deputy commander of Kimpo Air Force Base in South Korea, Fischer flew dangerous reconnaissance missions over the embattled peninsula. He was twice awarded the distinguished Flying Cross. During his time in Asia, however, Col. Fischer worked as tirelessly on the ground as he did in the air. Deeply touched by the suffering caused by the conflict, he helped found the Columba Children’s Home and Bupyong Orphanage to serve the many children who had lost their families and homes in the war.

After the Armistice Agreement was signed in 1953, Col. Fischer spent the remainder of his military career stationed in Paris and the Pentagon where he directed policy for the Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe — the cornerstone upon which NATO would be built.

Retiring from the Air Force, Jack returned to civilian life in 1962 and joined his brother’s law practice, specializing in workers’ compensation law until 1984.

With Eleanor at his side — a partner in philanthropy as well as in life — Jack remained a true “Man for Others” all of his days, whether serving the poor of the Rockville Center Diocese, flying medical supplies into the Dominican Republic, or simply bringing consolation to his fellow parishioners by singing at every funeral mass at St. Agnes Church for over twenty years.

The doting grandfather of fifteen, John “Jack” Fischer spent his retirement birdwatching on Long Island, volunteering with the Audubon Society, and delighting audiences young and old with his expert birdcalls and the story of misfired shot that had changed his life decades and decades ago.

Eleanor passed away in 2006. She and Jack had been married over 60 years and were still very deeply in love.

They would be reunited in Paradise two years later on April 20, 2008: Jack’s final journey beyond the skies to meet the Red Cross worker who was awaiting him. He was 94 years old.