The Death of a Salesman

My suggestion: Stan Feldberg, self-proclaimed king of industrial magnet sales.

The Death of a Salesman
Stan Feldberg, owner and founder of Feldberg Magnetics, dies.

By Stacy Beckman
Tribune Staff Reporter
Published July 2, 2006

CHICAGO, Ill. – A man who often called himself – in jest – the king of industrial magnet sales passed away on June 27th.  On July 1st Stan Feldberg's funeral was held at St. Patrick's Catholic Church.  The legendary cathedral was not large enough to hold all of the mourners who wished to attend.  Stan Feldberg, Jr. delivered the eulogy, reprinted below.

My father gave me his name.  A name he made famous.  I've spent my life trying to live up to that name.  It is no small task.  The evidence is in front of me today.  I look around and I see powerful businessmen, influential politicians and loving family.  Mostly, I see people who cared about my dad.

My dad, Stan Feldberg, started Feldberg Magnetics from the ground up and it grew into the nation's leading industrial magnet company.  Now that he's gone, Feldberg Magnetics will be his legacy but it won't be his biggest accomplishment.  His biggest accomplishment is all of the people gathered here today mourning his death.  He's proof that you don't have to be ruthless to be a good businessman. 

My first memory of my father may not even be a memory.  It may just be a story retold enough that I've made it my earliest memory.  Regardless, it stands as the one story that defines who my father is and his outlook on life. 

As many of you may know, my father battled Hodgkin's disease many years ago.   I was about four years old.  My mom would take me to the hospital to visit him.  I hated going to the hospital.  I did not like the way it smelled.  I was frightened by all of the machines and the sick people.  I also hated the idea of my father being in a place like that.  As a huge Star Wars fan, I wanted to believe that my dad was Luke Skywalker and Luke Skywalker did not belong in a hospital.

During one of our many visits to the hospital, we arrived in my dad's room to find him sitting in a wheelchair next to a large machine that was connected to him through a series of tubes and electrodes.  I immediately began to cry. 

I didn't know what the tubes and machine were doing to my dad, but I could only imagine that they were part of the reason that my dad was sick.  I began to cry even harder.  I was afraid to go into the room.  My mom tried to coax me into the room, but I refused. 

My dad turned to me and said, "Junior, what's wrong?"  I just continued to cry.  He smiled at my mom, pointed to the machine beside him and said to me, "Junior, don't worry.  Everything's going to be okay.  They've got R2-D2 taking care of me."  I looked at the machine, stopped crying and jumped up in my dad's lap.

And that's my dad for you.  Even though he was battling cancer, he still found time to make me feel better.  His focus was always outward, never inward.  That's probably why he was such a great salesman.  That's definitely why he was such a great father.


Your suggestion: The girl with dark glasses.