About a year after I wrote a 2021 column about the death of Wayne Gott, his son Roger stopped me in the bank to congratulate me on a Missouri Press Association award I received for the column.
I wrote about how Wayne lived the American dream, starting with Gott’s General story in Bradleyville, Missouri, and ending with a chain of grocery stores and a regional bank that now boasts of 11 locations around the state. The grocery stores — Town and Country Supermarkets — numbered 28 stores last I counted.
Wayne, Betty, Dennis (Denny to Roger) and Roger all played pivotal roles in the growth through the decades, along with a great staff and supportive community. The Gott family, including Roger, gave back to the communities they served, too.
I also wrote columns following the death of Roger’s mom, Betty, and his brother, Dennis. Two of the three columns won MPA awards.
Anyway, in my visit with Roger a year after his dad passed away, I had to gig him a bit.
“So,” I deadpanned to Roger, “when you are gone I am going to write an award-winning column about you, too.”
In typical Roger Gott retort — we retorted in a loving way to each other a lot over the last 30 years, in no-holds barred fashion — he said, “I doubt it. You’ve got to remember I am several months younger than you.”
Good zinger, Roger. One of many you aimed in my direction.
That’s the first of many stories about Roger I thought of when I learned of his Jan. 31 death. I don’t have a newspaper any more — selling out in February of 2025 — but I can still write. So, Roger, this one is for you. It may not win any awards, but it comes straight from the heart, just like the ones I wrote about your mom, dad and Dennis.
I can’t say that Roger and I were best friends. Friends, yes. We didn’t do much together socially, especially the past five to 10 years, but you can still have friends you don’t often dine with, travel with and toast with.
It started in 1995 when I moved to Salem. It ended in December when my wife Felicia and I went into Town and Country Bank and Roger happened to be in the lobby. We talked awhile. Longer than usual, thankfully. Roger is one of those guys who is glad to visit with you, just not too long.
Among the exceptions were some of my visits in the mid 1990s and early 2000s when, before the main Salem bank was remodeled, I could walk through a couple doors and sit in the big chair in front of his desk, where we would talk about sports and Salem and banking and newspapering and our kids. And maybe a few other things I won’t get into here.
I have no idea how many times we did that.
Sometimes we talked about his son Nate’s quarterbacking ability. I don’t think I ever saw Roger light up more than when I told him my story of NFL Hall of Fame quarterback Bret Favre. Like Nate, in high school Favre ran an option offense with little use for a passing game. But when Favre made it to college and the NFL, the world found out he had an arm. I likened the story of Favre’s arm to Nate’s, who also had a strong arm he didn’t get to show off much in high school. Nate didn’t go on to the hall of fame, but man he had a good arm and a proud daddy.
Speaking of Gott kids, Roger’s daughter Lindsey was Vickery Intern for The Salem News when she was in high school. She did a good job, though journalism didn’t turn out to be her thing. She is now senior vice president for the Town and Country banking chain.
I had the great privilege a few years ago of working on marketing with Lindsey, my daughter Catherine — still with Salem Publishing Company at the time — and other bank employees when Town and Country underwent major changes. “Just stay out of the way and let Lindsey handle this,” I told Roger.
More than once.
Time gets away from you. Cherish it. Enjoy it. Live it to the fullest while you can. For Roger that meant watching his business grow, loving on his family, spending time on the Current River or on Florida’s Captiva Island. And the simple things such as grabbing a quick breakfast at the Country Mart deli.
I remember my early days in Salem. One of the highlights came when Roger and I took Lindsey and Catherine to a St. Louis Cardinals game. We had the green seats, the ones right behind home plate where for the hefty price of admission you not only get a good seat, but a parking pass and all the food and drink you can handle. You should have seen those girls eat. And sometime during the game Fredbird paid a visit to the green seats and the girls got their picture made with him. They call Busch Stadium Baseball Heaven, and for those two young girls that day with the dads was certainly heavenly.
Cherish those moments.
Roger and I, along with Salem attorney Mark Weaver, partnered on season tickets to Cardinals games for a few years. The bank bought them and then we’d split the cost three ways, or something like that. The Cards have about 80 home games a season, and none of us could go to a third of the games, so the bank bought the excess and sent its customers.
Like the Gott stores and banks, I was busy growing a business too — on a much smaller scale — so pretty soon I had even less time for ballgames. Roger suggested the bank would buy all the tickets, and Weaver and I would go to a few games a year, our choice. Sort of a pay as you go.
That was about 20 years ago. And you know what? Roger never allowed me to purchase tickets to the games, and countless times since then I have taken family and friends and now grandkids. Not even the green seats came with a pricetag. As recently as last season we took our grandson Konner and a friend of his to a game. “Hope you enjoyed it,” Roger said when I tried to pay for the tickets, showing a generous side he so devoutly denied having.
Roger was that kind of guy. He and Laura spent countless hours navigating the Cardinals website to get Felicia and I tickets to the Billy Joel concert in Busch Stadium, using the bank’s priority seating. (He did make me pay for those, though.)
Be it Cardinals tickets or some time to talk about family matters or business ventures, to me he was always willing, always accessible. Always a friend.
Many of you have experienced that friendship.
One of the last times I talked to Roger he told me about some health issues he was having, but he quickly turned the conversation to a friend of ours who had recently gotten some really bad health news.
“Man, I hate to hear that,” I remember saying. “It just goes to show you we are standing here right now, and a few moments later….”
Roger cut me off. Quickly.
“Exactly,” he said and changed the subject.
Few of us want to think much about our mortality. I know Roger didn’t, as he expressed that to me many times as he dealt with the loss of a mother, a brother and then a father. Like all of us, he struggled not only with the personal losses, but a mixture of “what should I have done differently” and “a life well lived.”
You are not alone, Roger. People with no regrets are lying to themselves. We should all admit there are things we would have done differently and things we are happy we did.
Right about now is the time I should probably write some glowing tribute to Roger. Truth is, as someone mentioned to me this week, “Roger was Roger.” I have at times also heard “that was Roger being Roger.” He spent the past 70 years writing his own tribute, and had the love and friendships that prove it.
For those of you lucky enough to have known him — many of you knowing him longer and better than me — you know what that means. Roger probably had more friends than anyone I know. There is a reason for that, and a credit to Roger.
And for the rest of you, let it suffice to say that Roger Lee Gott was not only a few months younger than me, but a pretty good guy who will be missed by a lot of people. Walking into the lobby of Town and Country Bank at 1009 East Scenic Rivers Blvd. in Salem will never be the same for me.
