Campbell, California Since 1999
The Good Old Days
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Jack Fischer Park honors great principal, educator By Jerry Baum If you are one of the hundreds of people who drive to and from work along the southernmost edge of Campbell, the Pollard Road corridor, I know you have seen a quaint little park near the Highway 85 overpass, though you and perhaps the owners of the homes that surround this park may not realize that this piece of land has a history. Jack Fischer Park, as the park is called, was named after the principal of the old San Tomas Elementary School, which stood on the corner of Hacienda and Abbott. Houses now occupy the school grounds, while the playground and a baseball field are now the existing park. It is impossible for me to see this land and not think of Mr. Fischer. On my first day of school, in 1953, my mother walked with me the half-mile or so to San Tomas Elementary. I had started late in the year because we were new to the area; my sister was two grades ahead of me and had started the day earlier. We came onto the school grounds, and as we walked past the cafeteria, I saw a large man with menacing eyes staring at me. He stood in the corridor smiling at my mother while sizing me up. He introduced himself as "Principal Jack Fischer" to my mother and said not a word to me. After a few pleasantries between adults, my mother took her leave and walked home, leaving me, frightened to death, with someone who was obviously an ax murderer! Needless to say, I didn't die that day, nor on any subsequent days, either. Mrs. Swain was Mr. Fischer's secretary. She sat behind the desk next to his office, and seemed to know everything that went on in the school. Behind her was the teachers' lounge, and we children all wondered what kind of antics went on behind those doors. When the door to the lounge opened, smoke poured forth and laughter could be heard from within. But even with the party-like atmosphere in the lounge, the teachers went quiet when Mr. Fischer came into the room. He had the kind of eyes that looked right through you, and bushy black eyebrows that accentuated his gaze. His arms were strong, and his hands had a quiet, restrained power. He would walk the halls of the school, keeping an eye on students and perhaps teachers as well. He might walk into a classroom and stay for a few minutes or an entire hour, saying nothing, and then walk out. He could be seen at recess scanning the playground or talking to a teacher on yard duty. He never shouted or yelled; he didn't have to. On more than one occasion I had to "bend over" for breaking the rules that seemed to change daily. In reality, the rules never changed - it was always about behavior. We were expected to act civilly, and Mr. Fischer was the arbiter. When the boys acted up, as boys do, they would be called into his office, where he kept "the paddle." To us children it looked enormous, and it had big holes bored into the wood, such that it made a whoosh sound as it approached its victim. Just seeing the paddle was enough to change some attitudes for the better. However, Mr. Fischer wasn't a cruel person. He didn't relish punishing children, and he didn't have to resort to corporal punishment very often. Just his gaze and strong voice would suffice to discipline students, in most cases. We didn't run from him in fear. In fact, children flocked to him in the playground, laughing and listening to him talk with a calm and soothing voice. I lived close to the school and would stay after, helping Mr. Fischer move books and desks from one classroom to another. Even during summer vacation I would come to school early in the morning to help him and the two janitors do minor tasks. Mr. Fischer taught me to respect property, myself and others. He changed my perception of him as ogre to role model in a very short time. From time to time in the following years, even when I went on to high school, I came by San Tomas Elementary to help out or just visit him and the school that taught me much more than the three R's. Mr. Fischer and I remained friends up until his death. When I graduated from Westmont High School, his wife found a gift all wrapped up in his desk with my name on it. It was a penknife with my name and his engraved on the handle. It was one of the best presents I could have received. Even today, if he were still alive, he would still be "Mr. Fischer" to me, not the informal "Jack" that adults called him. So, if you see that little park and decide to stop by and have a walk around, have fun and enjoy yourself. But remember, it is more than a park; it is a memorial to a great man. A fitting tribute to the man who shaped so many young minds and made this community strong. Jerry Baum is a longtime Campbell resident. He can be reached at zinfindel@earthlink.net. |
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