My mother was a huge, salivating fan of Eddie Fisher in her adolescence. I think she was even president of the Eddie Fisher Fan Club in her hometown. She used to tell me of the time when she traveled to New York City to see a concert of his, made it into his hotel room at some point in the evening, and made off with a Coke bottle he had drunk from (“If I’d had my way he would have been your father.”) She never forgave my grandmother for throwing it away. “Eh, trash!” I can hear her mewling as she tossed it out.
Eddie Fisher died last month, on my birthday. Here is a brief tribute to the man who might have been my father, and whose career dried up after the rise of rock-n-roll.