Curt Fischer

Curt passed away in his sleep in the early morning of December 10, 2025, a little more than a month before what would have been his 85th birthday. In his long life he never hurt anyone, and is remembered by all as a gentle man of keen intelligence, talent, imagination, and pure sweetness. He was a wonderful friend and a beautiful soul. 

Curt was born on his Father’s birthday, named after ‘Big Curt,’ and was the first of six children: Paul, Betty, Robert, Roberta, and Suzy. His lovely Mother Marie was from Butternut, Wisconsin, and his Dad was born in Berlin, Germany. The young family made their home in Chicago and had many friends within the German community. Young Curt accompanied his Dad to work as a house painter/decorator and grew up listening to the Mandolin, because his Father played in the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Listening to records, playing piano, eating home-cooked German food and going fishing in Wisconsin were fond memories from Curt’s childhood.

He had just begun to study art in Chicago, when the family moved to San Diego. Curt was somewhat disappointed that high school in California was far more casual, less rigorous. But he quickly learned to enjoy himself at the beach, on a bike, and with drawing, painting, and photography. He then attended San Diego State, was drafted, but got sent home immediately when X-rays revealed that potential severe back problems might restrict his military service capability. As fate would have it, from that time on he was a gifted cyclist who rode all over California and Europe, and never suffered spinal problems at all.

He became a newspaper sports photographer, then corporate art director, and ultimately a commercial advertising photographer with a long career that afforded him many wonderful clients and friends. Along with photography, tennis and skiing fit right into his cycling life, and he traveled and enjoyed these passions. His knees did eventually get the better of him, but he rode well into his 70s. Earlier marriages to Rosa and to Liz did not yield children. However at age 50 Curt and Linda were married, and remained together for more than 35 years. Their beloved daughter Lily Marie Fischer was born in 1994.

The Napa wildfire in 2017 destroyed most of Curt’s own artwork, and that by others collected over a lifetime, but he poured all his creativity into rebuilding a house he loved, in the place he loved, and spent his time thinking about the beauty of the natural world, and the people and pets who made his life rich with meaning. His body slowly began to fail him and his last years were changed by disease, but he always had deep appreciation for the people who cared for him. We thank especially Dr. Leni Stayman and the dear caregivers of Stayman Estates in Napa who became as family.

Curt William Fischer was an extraordinarily decent, elegant, and very dear man. Love is all there is.

For Curt Fischer | in memoriam

He found much wisdom in poetry and took no little insight from it.
As a poet once said: He was ever at the still point of the turning world.
And ever mindful of another’s words: Did not go gently into that good night,
but raged, raged for long dread months against the dying of the light.
Stoical, uncomplaining to the last, his voice assured, his heart unfurled:
“It is what it is. Don’t you worry. It’s alright. I can deal with it.”

And it is what it is.
And he was what he was.
And in his Time we called him “Ironman.”

A photographer’s eye. Never missing much in word or deed.
He saw the possibilities in most everything the world had to offer.
As Spinoza: ‘The endeavor to understand is the first and only basis of virtue.’
Was ever open to sharing whatever insights that came within his purview.
Francophile. Italophile. Ornithologist. Oenophile. Barista. ‘Biscuit’ lover.
Always ready to help someone in need or help a friend succeed.

And it is what it is.
And he was what he was.
And in his Time we called him “Ironman.”

Ever fleet of thought with never any mind to impress or reduce you.
Effortlessly juggling untold ideas even when inscrutably Sphinx-like.
Tending to an overly demanding Mont Alpi Stainless Steel Outdoor Gas Grill.
Hard driving a rapidly rotating Stihl Gas String Trimmer all alone on Oat Hill.
Or speeding across Marin heights on a Sky-Blue Carbon Fiber Road Bike
or around the Bay Area in a classic M3 Daytona-Beach-Blue BMW.

And it is what it is.
And he was what he was.
And in his Time we called him “Ironman.”

And now that the World he knew has fully turned, his last cycle done,
much mourned, much missed, much revered, he’s been made as ashes
and laid to rest for eternity inside an artfully-veneered square wooden box.
To be forever graced beneath Japanese fan-shaped golden Gingko leaves
that once fluttered in curlicues of warming air as, gentle man that he was,
he passed quietly by in the blessed golden rays of the Napa sun.

And it is what it is.
And he was what he was.
And in his Time we called him “Ironman.”

Written by Tony Broadbent

Link to Dropbox photos of Curt

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