'A great eye for a deal, an even better one for people': Terry Snow's memorial celebrates a life well lived

“Those who don’t know Terry know him for the structures he built, but those who do know Terry know him for the people he built,” Terry Snow’s son Tom told a memorial service held at a packed Canberra Theatre this week, following his father’s death on 3 August.

People came from everywhere – the great and good of the business world, but plenty, too, who had driven up from the coast, who knew Terry from building sites or cattle stations, or to whom he’d given a helping hand.

“At the time of his birth, few – and least of all his school teachers – would have imagined what a role Terry would play in the life of this city,” Tom said.

“Dad had grown up with Canberra, but you could say without hesitation that Canberra has grown up with Dad.”

Speaking on behalf of Terry’s brother George, his nephew Richard Snow recalled their early years, first in the Queanbeyan ‘top pub’ owned by the family and later in Deakin, then the last suburb on the south side.

It was a free-spirited childhood – riding to the Cotter, borrowing their father’s gun to shoot rabbits on Red Hill and once using bungers to blow up a few Melbourne Avenue letter boxes (one of which turned out to belong to Gough Whitlam).

George and Terry’s property career began when they purchased the Mary Thynne real estate agency. Despite the odd hiccup, the business prospered via a canny decision to turn an inherited property shareholding into the publicly listed Capital Property Trust. This public investment vehicle funded their development in the late 80s and early 90s.

In turn, the sale of the $540 million property trust meant Terry was cashed up when John Howard decided to divest regional airports in the mid-90s.

Former chief minister Kate Carnell, whom Terry pushed into politics, said detractors thought Terry was mad when he purchased the empty paddocks. Tom Snow recalled the man whose sheep were agisted there telling Terry there was no shame in bringing the sheep back if necessary.

When he developed Brindabella Business Park, Terry wouldn’t accept second best. He built the highest quality, architecturally designed, sustainable and people-friendly offices. Majura Park followed and the ongoing development of the historically sensitive Fairbairn site.

“He was committed, persistent and didn’t take no for an answer,” Kate said. “Even when he stood on some toes, he got things done.”

The airport was his masterstroke.

Son Stephen Byron recalled that when Ansett went belly-up, liquidators considered selling the terminal to Melbourne-based interests.

“Terry ripped into them. The emotion and volume were high and the language was choice,” Stephen said. But the result was an excellent deal for the airport.

“He had a great eye for a deal and an even better one for people. His genius was backing them to achieve what they could achieve,” Stephen said of the businesses ranging from plumbers to fitness studios whom Terry backed.

“They all felt they were working for him personally and didn’t want to let him down but were also fearful of doing so!”

Family was the centre of Terry’s life. He proposed to his wife of 48 years, Ginette, 10 days after meeting her and was fond of asking people, “Isn’t she just the best sheila around?”

Family Sundays with lunch and gardening chores were enforced right up to university years, daughter Georgina Byron said.

“He wanted the four of us kids to build family bonds as he did,” Georgina said.

“It wasn’t until I was older that I better understood him and got to know his big warm heart beneath that gruff exterior.”

A staunch backer of women in leadership, he gave Georgina a succinct brief when she took over running the Snow Foundation, founded by Terry and George in their 40s.

“Give a helping hand to those struggling; it’s a proper job, so get yourself an office and get on with it,” he told her.

Canberra’s soup lady, Stasia, always told him he’d go to heaven, Georgina said, remembering “there was so much everyday kindness … he genuinely just loved helping others”.

Not that it was all plain sailing.

Terry’s children said he could be gruff, sometimes intimidating – even downright scary – and set high standards for everything. He had a voracious appetite for work, rarely took holidays and told them, “Be brave, stick your neck out, treat people with decency and fairness, be humble, have integrity, say you’re sorry and move on in life”.

Granddaughter Gabby Betts and longtime friend John Gasson recalled a man who could be demanding but immensely supportive, with the capacity to talk to anyone and leave them feeling empowered.

For his daughter Scarlett, Terry was “big-hearted, warm, soft, razor-sharp … demanding, visionary, a perfectionist”. And, she said, “The biggest love of your life was Mum … you could not have achieved so much without Mum. You adored each other”.

In the words of his son Stephen, ” You’ve left Canberra a much better place than you found it. You gave it your very best; you gave it your all. I love you, mate”.