One of Wagga’s last “icons” has been remembered as a “true character” with the “gift of the gab”.
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Renown collector Brian Lynch, 77, passed away on Friday, February 23, leaving behind his loving family and one of Australia’s most impressive treasure troves.
“All the big players in collecting knew Brian as an icon and he popped up all across the country,” long-time friend Les Homer said.
“He used to go around the sales every Saturday morning and just chat away - he really had the gift of the gab.”
Brian’s astonishing joint collection with wife Barbara spans more than 50 years of meticulous itemisation.
“We just bought anything and everything we wanted,” Barbara said.
“His latest obsession were inkwells, which I didn’t really think much of, but we’ve got it all - china, statues, cigarette cases.
“There was nothing we wouldn’t collect.”
Reflecting on her beloved husband, Barbara said he would always be remembered as “a bugger of a kid”.
“He was such a mongrel, you know he actually ran away after the first hour of year seven and never went back,” she said.
“His mum dropped him off and he just turned around and ran straight back home.”
With school education somewhat unfulfilling, the teenage Brian turned his eye to business but retained his mischievous streak.
“He’d sell ice-creams at the movie theatre and collect batteries, photos and anything to make dough, but he was still so cheeky,” daughter Julie said.
One time, he set his mother’s hair on fire - just flicked a match at her hair and it went whooosh up in flames.
“He was a good businessman though, very hard working. He was also a good man.”
Life eventually found Brian as a courier for The Daily Advertiser, a position he held for more than 40 years.
“You’d never find someone as committed to his job,” Barbara said.
“One time, he actually had a heart attack while delivering papers.
“But he just signed himself out of hospital, did his paper rounds, and signed himself back in. Ended up in Sydney for a triple bypass.”
His good-natured, albeit dubious, swap deals on the job were also fondly remembered.
“He used to drop off five or six papers at the shops and walk out with a few loaves of bread or a crate of milk. I’ll never know how he got away with it.” Mr Homer said.
