EXCLUSIVE: Brian Hamburger pauses 'MarketCounsel Summit' due to 'oversaturated' and 'transactional' RIA events market -- but he has an eye on a new 'RIA' model of in-person get-togethers

Brian Hamburger has suspended the “MarketCounsel Summit" series after a 17-year run.  The RIA compliance firm CEO sent an email to clients and other attendees this afternoon. 

He gave RIABiz an exclusive interview about the event's hiatus and the changes that brought about the pause. 

Still, Hamburger's wheels are turning on a new model that he believes can reestablish the spirit the MarketCounsel Summit had in its heyday. 

The conference world is simply too eager to deliver the “transactional” sugar highs of lead generation and deliverable metrics. In addition, the supply of events has long since overwhelmed demand, undermining economics and creating road-weary speakers and attendees. 

I have been to several of the Hamburger events, and they were certainly an Ocean's Eleven-style bridge between the small RIA and the compliance perspective offered by Eliot Spitzer [and Elliot Weissbluth], Tony Robbins, Shirl Penney and Brian, who is a charismatic speaker himself. How Brian Hamburger won speaking commitments from Mark Cuban, Sallie Krawcheck and Eliot Spitzer without throwing money at the challenge

“Brian was a pioneer in driving meaningful engagement in the independent wealth space,” says Penney. 

”The MarketCounsel Summit was a hard circle on my conference schedule – and my birthday – each year. All of us in the space owe Brian a bit of gratitude for advancing the powerful RIA ecosystem."  

It's sad to see a 17-year institution go away that about synchronizes with the 16-year life span of RIABiz. But don't be surprised if something deluxe doesn't crop up in its place.

“It’s bittersweet to see the Summit discontinue as we know it,” says Marc Cohen, chief growth officer, LPL Financial. “What started as a small client event with handmade signs, hosted at a boutique local hotel just a couple miles from our office, and family and friends serving as bartenders and staff, ultimately grew up by the efforts of a small, but determined, team to become the center of the RIA universe to end each year and a venue for the industry’s elite to convene. I will always value the lasting relationships I was able to form in that unassuming and objective environment at such a young age.”

Brooke: Why did you decide to end the Summit, and when did that decision crystallize? Was there a defining moment?

Brian: After sixteen turns, it felt like the right time to pause and reflect. The Summit was born to serve a specific need at a specific moment—a neutral ground for entrepreneurial investment advisers to tackle real issues without commercial or institutional influence. That’s what made it different. But the industry, its conferences, and advisers themselves have all evolved. The conference circuit is now full of low-cost events hosted by media companies and data aggregators—driven by sponsor metrics and marketing agendas. Rather than dilute what we built, we decided to step back and rethink what’s next.

There were definitely moments that made me stop and think—like standing in line at another event, badge around my neck, having my QR code scanned for a third time before I could get a 3 p.m. espresso. Or checking into a conference and picking up my badge, and wondering why it had an RFID tag. In the push for profits, conferences are turning guests into the product. That’s not aligned with our vision for the Summit. There wasn’t a single turning point, just a steady recognition that the Summit’s original purpose deserved a fresh look.

Brooke: Was the decision financially driven or about life balance?

Brian: Neither, it was about integrity and impact. The Summit was always more mission than business. It’s never been our most profitable venture—our consulting and legal work have far greater reach and effect. But the Summit was the heartbeat. It gave me a creative outlet for other passions and allowed me to be a storyteller, giving headlines context and helping people explore their meaning and impact. More importantly, it showed my team that we can achieve anything. When a small team descends on a foreign city after months of planning and pulls off what others do as a standalone business, when they feel the embrace and gratitude of clients we’ve spent the year serving —those are lessons I didn’t know how to teach.

Still, maintaining that standard took a toll. In the fall, it consumed nearly half my calendar and much of our team’s creative energy. It occupied every Thanksgiving holiday since my kids were quite young. It made my team work double-time to honor our clients’ year-end priorities. That level of intensity deserves a purpose, not just a tradition.

Brooke: What’s the origin story and evolution of the Summit?

Brian: The first one—then called the Member Summit—was a two-day workshop in a small hotel in suburban northern New Jersey. We wanted to be close to our main office in case we forgot the dry-erase markers. I flew in on the redeye from another conference; maybe 30 people showed up, and the A/V was a whiteboard. It was raw and candid, but there was something there.

The next year, we moved to Princeton, New Jersey. While more bucolic, it was also ironic. We spent an outsized amount of time discussing advisor recruiting from a hotel that was once Merrill Lynch’s training facility. See: Merger and breakaway experts convene near Princeton at old Merrill Lynch lair We doubled attendance and started to view it as its own business endeavor.

The following years, we began alternating between Miami and Las Vegas—destinations advisers wanted to visit, but that the financial services industry had long passed over. By the time we moved to Red Rock in Las Vegas, it had become something else—a real stage, a real production, and yet somehow still intimate. 

I remember Elliot Weissbluth, Rudy Adolf, and Joe Duran on stage respectfully disagreeing about what independence meant. That’s when I knew we had something special.

We continued to elevate the experience by moving to world-class venues like the Four Seasons in Vegas and the Fontainebleau in Miami Beach, drawing Tony Robbins, Mark Cuban, Barney Frank and Christopher Dodd, Kellyanne Conway, Sallie Krawcheck, David Plouffe, Karl Rove, Elliot Spitzer, Magic Johnson, several top regulators, and a Who’s Who of the industry. It became a destination. At its peak, we had more than 700 attendees, 80 speakers, and sponsors who respected that they could never buy a minute of stage time. And while the production value was high, advisers appreciated that it was a project of passion and a grassroots effort.

For three straight years, we got word that our keynote had canceled during my flight to the event. I took a certain devious pleasure in sharing that news with our team, who came to expect it without flinching. They knew we’d all get on the phones, do our jobs, and somehow make it work—usually even better than planned.

While it consumed every Thanksgiving for me and my team, it also gave my kids powerful lessons. I remember sitting in my office with them, wordsmithing an email to Mark Cuban to appeal to his sense of justice after his tussle with the SEC, my youngest clicking “send” and a commitment from Mr. Cuban arriving the next morning. They saw the late nights, then read about the impact. Later, they attended and worked the Summit themselves. They got a firsthand view of what all that hard work produced.

Brooke:  What motivated you to keep doing it all these years?

Brian: Honestly? The people. From the camaraderie of our 7 a.m. staff calls to the 1 a.m. conversations with industry partners as we closed the evening events. The look on someone’s face when a panel of diverse leaders made them rethink their firm’s entire strategy. The chance to put competitors at the same table and see them realize they had more in common than they ever imagined. It was never about filling a ballroom or producing a spectacle. It was about bringing together the people shaping the independent adviser movement—founders, visionaries, and disruptors—and creating a space where they could exchange ideas openly. The energy, collaboration, and candor were unmatched. That’s what kept us invested year-after-year.

Brooke:  How much work did it take from you and your team?

Brian:  More than anyone outside could imagine. The Summit wasn’t outsourced or formulaic. It was a year-long effort led internally by a small, dedicated team that treated it like a craft, not a product. Every session, speaker, and interaction was curated with intention. From Labor Day through Christmas, it was all hands on deck. We scripted, produced, booked, and built everything in-house—every slide, speaker intro, and session run of show. We’d spend weeks debating context, themes, and which moderator could draw out the most nuanced discussion. It was exhausting and exhilarating. And yes, there were “Summit widows and widowers” among our staff’s families. But we loved it. That’s why it resonated so deeply—but also why taking a pause feels right. You can’t fake something that personal.

Brooke:  How was the Summit different from other industry conferences?

Brian: From the start, we drew a hard line between content and commerce. No pay-to-play; no sponsored panels. That was radical then—and frankly, it’s still rare. We wanted advisers to know the discussions were curated for them, not sold to them. We believed advisers deserved truly objective content over paid programming. We also never viewed the Summit as a marketing vehicle. We were convening peers, not prospects. That independence allowed for the kind of dialogue and dissent that the profession rarely sees anymore.

Over time, though, we began to notice sentiments that reflected the wrong reasons for demand. Friends and frequent speakers were road-weary from too many events. Longtime attendees—now busy executives—felt obligated to stop by, sometimes just for a day. Others saw the event as one last stop before year-end, avoiding the FOMO fueled by social media. I want participation to be a deliberate choice—one infused with inherent value, not obligation.

Brooke:  You’ve been critical of how the RIA conference market has evolved. What do you see now?

Brian: It’s oversaturated—too many events chasing the same names, content, and checkbooks. I’ve built lifelong relationships from conversations that started without agenda or expectation. The authenticity of those relationships allows me to lean on them to this day whenever a client needs extraordinary handling. That’s what the Summit was meant to facilitate. Now, conferences have become transactional—booth counts, QR codes, speed-dating, product demos, and algorithms. That’s not inherently bad—it’s just not a business we want to be in. We designed ours as a forum for leadership and growth, the exchange of new and sometimes controversial ideas, and a place to meet others with both common and differing perspectives—not for lead generation.

bBrooke:  You’ve hinted at a new direction—something smaller, higher quality, more intimate. What might that look like?

Brian: We’re exploring formats that return to the essence of what we set out to achieve—fewer people, deeper dialogue, greater intimacy, more value. Think of it as scaling in rather than scaling up. Fewer lights, lower volume, but more concentration and conversation.

Brooke:  When might that new concept debut?

Brian: There’s no timetable. We’re still in the concept stage, but the guiding principle is already clear: intimate, intentional, exclusive. We’re designing something that earns its existence. We don’t want to simply replace the Summit; we want to reinvent how the very best in this community gathers and spends time away from their families, friends, and colleagues. We’re not rushing to pick up where the Summit left off; we’re designing something new that fulfills the highest aspirations of its original purpose.

Brooke:  How have people reacted to the pause?

Brian: Not many were aware until today. Those I’ve shared it with have expressed a mix of surprise, respect, and curiosity. Many said the Summit was one of the few conferences where substance outweighed spectacle—but the spectacle wasn’t bad, either. That kind of trust is humbling and worth protecting. Sometimes leadership means knowing when to stop and take stock. I think they understand that preserving that legacy sometimes means having the discipline to step back before the magic fades. If we want to be considered true stewards and leaders of this industry, that’s part of the responsibility.

Brooke:  Do you see a future where a large event returns?

Brian: Not right now—but we rarely say never. If we can find a way to scale without compromise, especially for a new generation of leaders who need their own “room,” we’ll consider it. But we won’t return to something that looks like everything else. We’re proud when we see iterations of our innovations—our faculty model, our stage ethics, even our vibe—adopted elsewhere. The Summit stood for independence, integrity, and meaningful connection. Those values haven’t expired; they just need a new expression.