I felt my phone vibrating as I was walking through the aisles of the NAFCD exhibit hall in Chicago. It was my friend Bobby Weiss, who I had just caught up with about 15 minutes prior. “I have some bad news. Roger passed away.” No last name needed. There was only one Roger and there will always be only one Roger. He was the Beyonce in the little corner of the world we call the floor covering industry.
In that moment, time seemed to stand still. It was the period at the end of the sentence. A run-on sentence that lasted 30 years. An unlikely friendship that somehow lasted three decades. I don’t really recall how it began, but I can say it ended in the most appropriate way. And there are so many memories in between.
I probably met Roger Marcus sometime in 1995 at one of those Cash Call events, a spiff program where his company, Congoleum, gave away $300,000 in cash and prizes to retail salespeople. I was the managing editor of Floor Covering Weekly; he the president of this family-owned, dominant player in the sheet vinyl universe before LVT was even a thought. He was somewhat intimidating—what he lacked in size he made up for in stature. He liked to be in control— everything from the day-to-day details of running a $300 million business to choosing the signature stuffed animals the company gave out at trade shows.
We must have done an interview at some point and for whatever reason he took a liking to me. I was a fresh face in this industry. He was intrigued by my past life in the horse racing world and the fact I owned pieces of racehorses. I remember how we joked that I would name my next horse “Congoleum” to give him free national exposure. He was fantasizing what Congoleum winning the Kentucky Derby could do for his company.
Along the way, our relationship grew. He would invite me every year to the Congoleum Christmas party in Princeton, N.J. He personally made sure I would have a hotel room that night so I would not have to drive back to Long Island. There would never be invitations to other members of the press. Roger would tell me it was because I was family. I thought he meant the Congoleum family. But he meant the Marcus family.
It wasn’t lip service. I would become part of the Marcus tribe. There were his daughters, Elissa and Julie, who became close friends. I would support Elissa with the charity she co-founded, A Little Hope, to benefit kids who lost a loved one in the 9-11 attacks here in New York. There was his brother Rick, who I thoroughly enjoyed spending time with. There was his nephew Todd, who I once helped write seven essays that accompanied his applications to the finest business schools in the country as he sought his MBA. And then there was Natalie, Roger’s mom, who could be considered the granddam of the flooring industry as an owner and designer with Amtico, later American Biltrite. She must have been around 80 when we met. Natalie was as elegant and classy as they come with perfectly coiffed hair and a thick Boston accent. After a series of lunches (she loved The Grill at the old Four Seasons), I remember saying, “I really don’t know what to call you. I feel funny calling you Natalie, and Mrs. Marcus seems too formal.” And without missing a beat, she softly said, “Call me Nana.” Family.
Nana didn’t mince words. I once told her I had missed a plane (the only time this ever happened) because I carelessly looked at my ticket in the middle of the night and mistook the landing time for the departure time. Her response: “How could you be such a schmo?” Roger loved that story.
Through the years Roger and I would meet for lunch or dinner, often at his Jasna Polana golf club in Princeton, and he would take a keen interest in my life. And those who knew Roger were well aware how he liked to give advice. In fact, I can say Roger changed the trajectory of my life by virtue of the two most important pieces of advice anyone gave me: He advised me to get divorced, and he told me to buy FCNews along with Dustin rather than start our own publication. The reasons were compelling to the point where I actually listened. Rare for me. I always said Roger was like a second father.
If Roger didn’t hear from me for a while, I would get a phone call or email, which I always felt was dictated to his assistant because technology just wasn’t his thing. “I haven’t heard from you; I figured you got married.” And I would say, “How could I have gotten married? You haven’t found me my wife yet.” It would be a standing joke for many years. I remember him telling me he was going on a cruise with his family to find me a wife.
Roger always wanted to know who I was dating. There was one girl in Florida of whom he did not approve. “She’s taking advantage of you. Get rid of her.” Like any father would advise. And when we would have lunch a few months later, the first thing he would ask was if I was still going to Florida. My answer would be met with a scowl and disdain.
The infamous asbestos litigation that plagued resilient manufacturers resulted in the trust for the claimants taking control of Congoleum, but Roger still ran the flooring division of its parent, the aforementioned American Biltrite, based in Montreal. AB would have its annual business planning meeting in December followed by dinner at an old-school steakhouse called Gibby’s. Roger would always invite me—not to the meeting, but to dinner—and I would always accept. I’d always be seated right next to him, perpendicular to the head of the table.
One thing about Roger—as private as he was, he was also the consummate showman. Til the very end. I find it quite ironic that he passed away on the same day Congoleum, the company he led for about 20 years, was sold to Beaulieu International Group.
A couple of years ago, when I inherited the role of chairman of the tri-annual Floor Covering Industry Foundation gala from, ironically, Roger Marcus, I suggested to Charlie Dilks, the FCIF chairman, that Roger be one of our honorees. To Charlie’s credit, he immediately embraced the idea. I called Roger to let him know the good news. “Here’s the thing: You need to select someone to introduce you.” He simply said, “I want you to do it.”
As I was preparing my speech, I asked a number of people for their thoughts on Roger. A couple of comments stuck out that perfectly illustrated his life: 1. “Roger has really gone above and beyond to make things better for me,” and 2. “Anyone who has Roger in their life has been blessed.”
So last year I had the honor of introducing Roger at the FCIF gala. It was quite a night. And Roger finally received the recognition he justly deserved after 60 years in this industry. He accepted his award with pride yet humility. It would be the last time we would see each other.
Someone once said to me, “People come in and out of your life. You never know why they arrived and why one way or another they eventually leave.” I was blessed to have Roger come into my life 30 years ago.
Roger—wherever you are now, I hope the soup is hot enough. I hope there is enough butter on the table. I hope there are no lamb chops at the cocktail hour so you’re not stuck holding the bone. I hope there are big-screen TVs for you to watch your beloved Eagles and Phillies. Maybe you and Don Rado can find the Century Tile guys to wager on five games every Sunday. I know you are already organizing golf tournaments.
Until we meet again. And say hello to Nana for me. Tell her schmo misses her
Last but not least, when you make the trek to Las Vegas it should not be all about business. When the lights go down, there is a litany of restaurants, shows and destinations to put a little fun into your evenings. We provide some suggestions in the publication for every budget. As busy as we are at the show, when the business is finished, I can recall going ziplining down Freemont Street, seeing a Vegas Golden Knights game, taking a gondola ride and seeing random concerts like Mariah Carey or Gladys Knight and the Pips. (Half of you probably don’t even know who that is.)
Of course, we feel it’s in everyone’s best interests to make the show as successful as possible. I believe every industry needs a major event like this. One of the biggest reasons is networking. We talk about seeing new products or attending a few educational events, but reconvening with your peers and having conversations about the industry or issues you may be having is worth the price of admission alone.
And then there’s Eye Candy. Don’t pretend not to know what I’m talking about!
Final thought: From time to time you may hear people trash the show, saying things like it’s not like it was or they get no value from it. Let me tell you this: Those are the people who have made the decision not to attend and don’t want their competitors going. Or it may come from the buying groups who want their members to strictly buy through their core vendors. Or it may come from people who don’t want to invest the time or money making their businesses more successful. That’s fine. You do. And for those who do, I’ll see you on the show floor.
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Chicago—Last week the North American Association of Floor Covering Distributors (NAFCD) revealed its logo redesign and 
