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The Canberra Times
The Canberra Times
Sally Pryor

All in the family, except for a stadium - that's the government's responsibility: Byron

Build some stuff. It's an evergreen solution for anything involving Canberra's future - the needs, wants and aspirations of its residents, and those who cater to them.

And it's a go-to mantra for Stephen Byron who, even as he heads up the Canberra Airport, a place - or "precinct", another catch-all term Byron frequently employs - that seems to be in a constant state of growth and renewal.

It's a regular Thursday morning at the bustling airport, and there's a lot on Byron's mind.

The most pressing, as chief executive, is the fact that Qantas keeps cancelling their flights between Sydney and Canberra; he suspects it's so they can hold onto their spots and force out competition.

He's already been on the phone, personally, to one of our reporters to complain about it.

But there are other things, too, that are more to do with the city beyond the airport's grounds.

A stadium for Canberra, for example. A new convention centre. A physical space for the Voice to Parliament to become a reality. Places for people to work, and live.

"Canberra is a meeting place, and part of our role is to serve the Australian government," Byron says, sitting back with a cup of tea.

"But it works both ways. The Australian government needs to recognise that as a community, we are part of Australia, we too deserve community infrastructure, such as a meeting place for the tribal activity of watching sport. They've done it for Townsville, they've done it for Parramatta, they've done it for Hobart. And in reality, it's our turn.

Canberra Airport chief executive Stephen Byron in the Constitution Place precinct in Canberra's city centre. Picture by Karleen Minney

"Whilst it's probably frustrating for the federal government not to be formally asked and not to know where it might happen, I think they need to say we recognise that the national capital needs a stadium that is the national stadium befitting of a national capital, and they ought to put some money on the table, and then the ACT government should be jolted into action by that."

So would he - or, more specifically, the Canberra Airport Group headed up by family patriarch Terry Snow - consider building a stadium themselves? And can we then, please, call it the Snow Dome?

Disappointingly, this suggestion raises barely a smile from Byron; the building of stuff is clearly no joke.

"All of the stadiums around Australia are run by public, state-based bodies," he says.

"So that's the reality, that's essentially the main model. Is there a role for private capital? Sometimes. But, you know, let government make those decisions."

It's hard not to see this as something of a directive - to government, that is. He is, after all, part of the city's most powerful family, and son of one of Australia's richest people.

But Byron sees his role - and that of his family - differently. He likes to view Canberra, not just as a swathe of potential real estate, but as a textured place, filled with empty spaces to enliven, as well. Beyond the airport and its sprawling surrounds, the group has also built Constitution Place, a mixed-used building in the city centre, and Denman Prospect, a suburb in the new town centre of Molonglo Valley. Both are places that have sprung, more or less, from nothing - an underused part of the CBD, a part of Canberra ravaged by the 2003 bushfires.

There's also the Snow Foundation, the family's philanthropic branch set up in 1991 to help the city's struggling or disadvantaged. Over the past three decades, it has donated money to causes ranging from homelessness and disease in the Indigenous community, to marriage equality and youth outreach.

The foundation is run by Georgina Byron, Stephen's sister, while the more recently established Snow Medical Research Foundation is run by his brother, Tom Snow. The organisation donated more than $5 million to coronavirus research in the early days of the pandemic, and made headlines when it withdrew funding from Melbourne University after it was revealed the university had only awarded honorary doctorates to men in the past three years.

And then there are the particular Snow pet projects - a $20 million concert hall for Canberra Grammar School, a massive equine facility at Bawley Point on the South Coast.

The Snows like to keep it in the family, one that's unusually embedded in Canberra's historic fabric; Terry is the son of Canberra's first general store owner, and with his brother George established the philanthropic Snow Foundation in 1991. Today, Snow's four children play central roles in the family business.

It's vulgarly tempting to draw an analogy between this family empire and the other, entirely fictitious one that has lately been dominating the pop culture discourse. But the Snows are a tight unit, nothing like the odious family featured in Succession. Although Stephen and Georgina are the product of Terry's wife Ginette's first marriage, Snow refers to them as his own children, and I'm told they, like their half-siblings Tom and Scarlett, call him dad. There is also, it must be said, a large black-and-white photographic portrait of Terry just behind Byron's left shoulder.

Terry Snow is now nearly 80, and not especially inclined to be interviewed these days. But he's well known for his disdain for retirement; I have missed Snow this morning by barely an hour (he has already been in for a couple of hours of meetings). And nothing in the Snow empire is ever complete.

"I think the thing is, as a family, we've always followed Terry's lead that you've got a responsibility to give back, particularly to your own community, that you need to lift up and give a helping hand to those that are in need," Byron says.

"He's still very much part of the airport, very much part of an engagement with our staff here in Canberra. He has a number of his own projects that he throws a lot of his energy into ... and now he's a bit older, 79, and when you throw more than a hundred per cent of your energy in it can knock you around a bit. So that's a reality.

"But it's not just that Terry's established a vision for what we might do and how we might go about our business - he's also set some values. And he set some benchmarks. He says things must be done excellently."

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