Roger on the field with Jeffrey Lurie

Roger and my husband grew up in Newton, MA. They knew each other slightly in high school, playing on opposing local after-school sports teams and through mutual friends, but became very close friends at Brandeis. This is their senior yearbook photo. Dan is on the left, Roger with the mustache in the middle on the right.

The guys’ 1973 Brandeis graduation photo

I met Roger’s wife Francine my freshman year at Brandeis. We were in French class together and have been close ever since, almost 50 years now.

Roger didn’t go to Newton South High School. He went to Buckingham, Brown and Nichols, a fine private school, which is where he met Jeffrey Lurie, also from Newton. Jeffrey is the grandson of the founder of General Cinema Corps and is now the owner of the Philadelphia Eagles.

Roger was a life-long New England Patriots fan and season ticket owner. He was an orthopedic surgeon who lived in Brookline, MA for many years after medical school and we saw him and Francine regularly, even after their first children arrived. We spent many happy hours in their home, playing ruthless games of Trivial Pursuit after a home-cooked meal or watching movies after the babies were in bed.

They bought their first home on Martha’s Vineyard in 1986, then moved permanently to LA. Roger had gone to USC Medical School and wanted to get back there, but had to convince Francine. This way, she could spend summers on the East coast, see friends and family, even after relocating west. Roger still kept his Patriots tickets, but would sell them to his brother or cousin.

Roger loved to play golf and eventually bought a third home at PGA West in LaQuinta, about 45 minutes east of Palm Springs, CA. He and Francine often invited us to visit them there during February. Roger had a special gift for friendship.

Jeffrey Lurie tried to buy the Patriots in 1993, but lost out to Robert Kraft. He was the successful bidder for the Eagles in May, 1994 and Roger switched his allegiance to his high school friend’s team. “I’ll root for the Patriots when Bob Kraft invites me into his box”, Roger would say to us; still he kept his tickets and would occasionally enjoy going to a pre-seaon game if he was on the Vineyard and he could make it to the game. If the Eagles and Patriots were not in direct competition, he still rooted for his childhood team.

Roger and Francine invited us to visit them on the Vineyard a few times in the early years. We liked it so much that we rented for a fews weeks for four seasons, then bought our own home in 1996. Now we could see them all summer and Dan played a lot of golf with Roger. At some point, Jeffrey built a large home there and would occasionally be part of the Roger/Dan foursome.

Roger and Dan loved to talk about sports at the beach during long, lazy afternoons. Roger would tell us what was going on in the Eagles organization. He was very friendly with Andy Reid when he was still their coach. (Yes, I know Andy was not the coach during the 2017 winning season, and is now the coach of the Chiefs so we will see him in action at this Super Bowl.)

Roger was always impressed that I could join in the conversation. As a former salesperson, I learned to be fluent in lots of “guy” topics and had a father who loved football, so have always paid attention. In one conversation during the summer of 2017, Roger asked where the next Super Bowl would be held. Dan didn’t know. Without a blink I said, “Minneapolis”. Roger was impressed and exclaimed, “You are my ideal woman!” To be fair, between Roger and three sons, Francine bent over backwards to accommodate her men, doing all sorts of sporting activities, much more than I ever would. She tolerated a lot, always with good humor.

On February 4, 2018, the Eagles faced the Patriots in Super Bowl LII in very cold Minneapolis. A few minutes before kick-off, Roger emailed me the Featured photo: of himself on the field with Jeffrey, both with huge smiles on their faces. In a big upset, the Eagles beat the Patriots 24-21. We might have been distraught in our household, but Roger was jubilant.

On Friday, February 16, Dan joined Roger, Francine and other members of their family at their LaQuinta home. I went to Cincinnati to celebrate my brother’s 70th birthday with his family. We had a wonderful weekend, then I flew home to Newton.

With my brother, Rick Sarason, and family, celebrating his 70th birthday. Feb, 2018

As always, Dan enjoyed a long weekend of golf and socializing with the Sohns. They went back to LA and work on Monday. Dan stayed on, as Roger planned to return Friday morning for more golf. A little after 7pm Boston time on Friday, I received a phone call from Dan. “Roger’s dead.” “WHAT? OUR Roger? WHAT?” I was screaming. It was February 23, 2018.

Dan went on to explain that he expected Roger back early that day. He thought they had a noon tee time, but Roger never showed up. Dan finally gave up and took a shower. At 4pm the doorbell rang; a man and a woman, both in uniform, stood there. They asked who Dan was, if he was related to Roger. Dan explained he was a close friend, waiting for Roger to come back from LA for more golf. They were a local police officer and the assistant coroner from nearby Indio. The coroner told Dan that Roger had stopped at the clubhouse (Dan remembered Roger’s golf cart was in for service), gone into a bathroom stall and died in there. They didn’t know what time. The door to the stall went to the floor and no one saw anything until a cleaning lady came in, tried to open the door, couldn’t and got someone to open it. (Later reports showed he had a massive heart attack and died in an instant, never knowing what hit him.)

Dan was stunned. He asked who would notify Francine. She was home in LA. The officer said it was out of his jurisdiction, but would contact the proper authorities in LA. Dan gave Francine’s contact info and his own; asked to be notified as soon as she was notified so he could call and comfort her or go to her. The coroner said Francine would have to come to Indio to answer some questions and claim Roger’s personal belongings.

Then Dan called me.

He waited and waited, no call came. The house line rang. From caller ID, Dan could see it was Francine calling. “Hi Danny, did you guys have a nice day of golf? Can you put Rog on the phone?”

Oh g-d, she didn’t know! It fell to Dan to tell her the man she’d loved since she was 19 years old was inexplicably dead. She didn’t believe him, it was the worst news she could imagine. She was at a temple retreat with the new rabbi and some other women, in the desert, about a half hour away from LaQuinta (we are thankful for small blessings: she wasn’t alone in her home). She asked Dan to come pick her up and bring her to the house, which he did. Dan was her rock. They sat alone together for the next six hours, Francine beyond grief, Dan trying to offer what comfort he could. I’m sure it helped that they had known each other so long and so well.

Friends from LA drove down that night with her youngest son, who lived locally. She called the other children. Dan called me back later, perhaps 11pm my time. I could hear her in the background and asked to speak with her. I asked if she wanted me to notify friends in the Boston area (there are many) as well as Vineyard and Brandeis friends. She agreed. I tried to comfort her, but how could one offer much solace at that moment?

The next day, Francine asked Dan to accompany her and her son to the coroner’s office, which he did. He paid attention, which was useful. She was in shock and still cannot remember anything from that week. Her friends drove her home and stayed with her. Her son drove Roger’s car home. Dan stayed in LaQuinta for another day, did laundry, emptied the fridge, took out the trash, talked to Roger’s golf buddies. He knew no one would come back to that house for quite some time so it had to be buttoned down.

Before going to bed on Friday, I made a list of people to contact and planned to start calling at 9am on Saturday, but I got my first phone call at 8am from a close friend. “What’s going on? Matthew just posted something cryptic on Facebook”. “Give me a minute. I’m just getting up. I’ll call you right back.” And that was how my day began. I took my first bite of food at 4pm. This went on for two days. I was the only local person who actually knew what had happened.

Funeral plans were set, I packed Dan’s dark suit. He only had golf clothes with him. He made my flight reservations and met me in LA. We went straight to Francine; the children had already arrived. It was surreal.

Jeffrey and his wife Tina flew in from Palm Beach for the funeral. The family was in no shape to greet them. We knew them a little from Martha’s Vineyard. Tina was sobbing. “He was so special.” I replied that Roger had really loved her, he had often told me so. And to Jeffrey I said, “I’m so glad he lived to see you win the Super Bowl. He sent me a photo of the two of you on the field just before kick-off. He was out of his mind with joy.”

Betsy Pfau
Retired from software sales long ago, two grown children. Theater major in college. Singer still, arts lover, involved in art museums locally (Greater Boston area). Originally from Detroit area.