‘The darling of the library’: Terence Hugh (Terry) Bishop (1945-2022)

Terry Bishop was a man of intense enthusiasm. If he liked you, you knew it. If he recognised the smallest amount of mutual interest in another human being he would pounce on it and develop it. This was always to the benefit of the lucky recipient, who was generously lent books or records or DVDs and gifts more precious still: Terry’s knowledge and Terry’s opinions. His recall of esoteric facts could astound. His emotional connection to art and beauty was happily infectious. He was not one for large crowds or public pronouncements. Terry sought to connect one on one.

The range of Terry’s passions was vast. Music, from classical to punk and back again. The cinema of Hollywood’s Golden Age and period British film. Classic small-screen comedy. Vintage British cars, particularly the Armstrong Siddeley Sapphire. Artefacts and oddities from the past, especially those related to popular culture. Terry was a discerning and highly motivated collector.

As with all purists, he set his own limits and parameters. He might cheerfully lend a casual acquaintance rare Fred Astaire musicals but scoff at the suggestion that his personal collection contain films in which Astaire neither sang nor danced. What would be the point of that?

It was Hamilton’s great fortune to have Terry Bishop oversee the city’s audiovisual collection for the best part of three decades. Few public servants ever took their jobs as seriously. Few were as committed to maximising ratepayer investment. Terry knew his subject inside out. Casual ordering of stock from catalogues was not an option. Instead, he personally hunted out bargains, on dedicated buying trips. Generations of Hamiltonians reaped the benefit of a man who ensured the public library stocked not only Beethoven and Bach but all of The Beatles, The Beach Boys, Bob Dylan and The Sex Pistols.

READ MORE:
* ‘Passionate maverick’ and fashion designer: Yanny Coates (Split), 1947-2022
* A ‘whirlwind romance’ and a life of mission work: Desma May Lewis, 1939-2022
* A feminist groundbreaker and quiet problem-solver: Gwenyth Mary Wright QSM, 1926-2022

Terence Hugh Bishop was born 28 December, 1945 in Katikati, the son of Hugh Bishop and Kathleen Bishop (nee Costello). He had one sibling, sister Mary Rose. In Terry’s infancy the family shifted to Te Kauwhata before finally settling in Morrinsville. Hugh had fought in World War II and as such the Bishops were entitled to state assisted housing. For almost two years they were accommodated in a transit camp. Eventually, a house in Anderson St became available.

Hugh opened a bicycle dealership, Bishop’s Cycles, on Morrinsville’s main street, a site now occupied by Loxy cafe.

Terry demonstrated creative talent from a young age, taking both art and violin lessons. He also took the initiative as a budding illusionist, sending away for a box of conjuring tricks then developing his own magic show utilising props he made himself. In a cape and homemade top hat he cut a dashing figure, honing his craft on a family audience before performing at the annual school gala.

At St. Joseph’s Catholic School, Terry topped his class. Secondary school education was enjoyed at Sacred Heart College in Glen Innes, Auckland, where he boarded for four years.

Terry’s first employment was as a bank teller in Matamata. He subsequently attended both the University of Waikato and Hamilton Teachers’ Training College, discovering academic study was not his forte and teaching was not his vocation.

In the late 1960s Terry was set up on a blind date, urged by a mutual friend to make the acquaintance of one Rosalind Jones. Ros was somewhat more taken by the man than his humble efforts at singing and songwriting. Nevertheless, music was a strong shared interest as their romance blossomed. Terry’s use of taxis, a necessity given he did not then own a car, initially gave a false impression of his finances.

By the time Terry and Ros married, at Hamilton’s Catholic Cathedral in 1970, he had secured work at the Hamilton City Council in the rates department. A suggestion that his talents might be better suited to the Hamilton Public Library was fortuitously followed up and Terry found his professional calling. After a stint at library school in Wellington, he was fully qualified and in a position to address himself to the shortcomings of the city’s record holdings.

Terry’s knowledge of classical music was legendary. In his personal collection he owned 11 different recordings of a particular Beethoven piece and could identify each by ear, extolling the virtues of this soloist over that. However, it was in the field of popular music that his services found even greater expression. With a sensitivity to both mainstream trends and emerging and niche music, he proactively canvassed customer requirements, asking the people what they wanted and did his level best to deliver it, foraging far and wide. In the words of Phil Grey, a colleague at the time, now manager of Hamilton’s Free FM, the record collection Terry built up was “second to none”.

It would be impossible to overstate the importance of such a collection in a pre-internet age. The success was demonstrable through rental statistics, ones which led Terry to be christened “the darling of the library” once in a staff meeting, reflecting the degree of customer satisfaction with his selections. At the same time he always ensured popular material was balanced against the challenging and the marginal. The fact that Hamilton Public Library stocked 1960s garage punk was a source of some pride to Terry and considerable influence on Phil Grey, who now hosts an international podcast dedicated to such music. Students, casual listeners, aspiring musicians, critics and radio announcers, all were directly influenced by Terry’s diligent curatorship.

When the library was restructured, Terry opted for early retirement rather than reapply for his job. He subsequently worked at Opus, a classical music CD store, Crow’s Nest secondhand bookshop and delivering mail bags for Customised Post. Each position afforded the type of one-on-one interaction with fellow enthusiasts that best suited his personality.

A habitual collector, enabled by a devoted and ever-supportive spouse, Terry’s favourite recreational pursuits revolved around his beloved Armstrong Siddeley Sapphire car. It was first purchased in 1983, the same year that Terry and Ros joined the Armstrong Siddeley Car Club. Annual car club get-togethers were a highlight in the Bishop household, affording an opportunity to drive the length and breadth of the country, stopping at every second hand and antique shop en route. Terry served as president of the club for two years in the 1990s.

The Bishop family castle in Fairview Downs housed Terry’s immense holdings of books, comics, films, records and antiques. Its lounge sported a grand piano and four formally dressed mannequins, a reflection of Terry’s eccentric taste in home decorating. Beautifully ornate stained-glass doors and windows testified to his personal creativity.

For someone who loved to talk and to share his vast knowledge with friends and family alike, a diagnosis of progressive supranuclear palsy was particularly cruel, progressively robbing him of his mobility and speech and impairing his sight. Falling heavily in 2018, Terry was nursed by Ros at home for a year before being admitted into Hilda Ross Retirement Village.

Terry saw The Beatles live in 1964 and derived just as much pleasure from attending The Sex Pistols’ only New Zealand gig some 32 years later. When The Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds was released in stereo for the first time he retired to his den, put on his headphones and wept openly at its beauty. Terry was a man of high emotion, sensitive to a fault. Whatever the frustrations of his final years, he indulged his passions, obtaining the greatest joy.

Terence Hugh Bishop died 21 December, 2022. He is survived by wife Rosalind, son Martin (Abdullah), daughter Gabrielle, their respective partners Hazra and Rick and grandchildren Amina, Ismail, Yusuf, Isa and Remco.