Industry farewells legendary journalist and publisher

We farewelled Greg Bright on Thursday at a beautiful service in Sydney’s eastern suburbs attended by his family and friends. 

So many people came to honour the great man that there wasn’t an empty seat in the chapel and an annex had to be opened to house the overflow. 

The who’s who of financial services gathered and plenty of ordinary people too. That’s because Greg was so inclusive and inviting. He cared about people and never judged. 

Whether you were the CEO of a $300 billion industry fund or a talented executive looking for your next opportunity, he had time for you. 

I remember his wedding to Christine at the Argyle in Sydney’s The Rocks. It felt like I was at an industry gala event. The room was full of fund executives, fund managers, custodians and journalists. All 300 of us, his dearest friends.  

I recall Greg got a couple of scoops that night. 

People just told him stuff, which always surprised me, as I used to affectionately call him the most indiscreet man in the industry.  

Greg loved to gossip but he was never malicious. He was a newshound. 

He was also interested in the truth, unless the truth was really damaging to a friend. 

On the odd occasion, he’d pull rank as publisher (a self-publisher no less).   

I remember trying to run a story about a fund manager who was struggling with performance. It was a good story, but Greg refused to run it. Apart from being a significant advertiser over the years, Greg considered the CEO and PR manager his friends.

As I matured, I realised the adverse impact some stories can have on people’s lives, often for no material benefit to society. As journalists, we all want to break news, expose injustices, and hold people and companies to account, but some stories don’t need to be told. And if they must be told, they can be approached with humanity. Greg showed me that. 

Pounding the pavement  

Looking back on my years at InvestorInfo and later Investment & Technology (the precursor to Investment Magazine) before the explosion of digital media, it was the ideal training ground.  

Greg made me do interviews in person, rather than on the phone (Zoom didn’t exist). Even if it was 40 degrees or pouring outside, I would walk around town with my notebook and camera. He said you always got more out of people face-to-face.  

I also had to take comprehensive notes because Greg didn’t believe in using dictaphones. He didn’t want us to waste time transcribing interviews. He encouraged us to attend media briefings, conferences and events to expand our networks. 

Years later, after I had left journalism, the value of recognising people on the street, as a result of numerous face-to-face interactions, helped me launch my own business. 

I wanted Greg to like me so much, I even considered picking up smoking and drinking to be accepted by him.  

But I didn’t like it and I couldn’t drink much, although Greg tried really hard to expand my capacity.  

At InvestorInfo, on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, after the publications were put to bed, the editorial team and ad sales would go for drinks after work. Gradually, Tuesdays and Wednesdays became Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, which wasn’t particularly good for our health or relationships, but it was a reflection of the deep affection we had for each other. 

That affection was fostered at conferences and company “love ins”. One year, Greg booked a mansion at Palm Beach for a couple of days of “strategising”. There were about 40 staff and 10 rooms so things got interesting. As a very naïve, 20-something from the bible belt of Sydney, I slept in my car that night and prayed for Jesus to return.     

Greg was an old-school journalist. He’d stay up late catching up with mates and attending events, and come into the office the next morning, with 20 leads; all in his head, nothing written down. Unlike many journalists, who possessively guard their contact lists, he openly shared his connections.  

I met my husband through Greg. I acknowledged Greg in my wedding speech as one of three most influential men in my life, alongside my husband and my father. 

While Greg was my boss for many years, he was also like an office dad. When I started dating my now husband, he took me out for lunch and staged an intervention. Lovingly, he told me that he didn’t think we were a good match. Last year, 18 years later, he told me he was glad he got that one wrong.  

He wasn’t perfect; generous and loyal to a fault. But he was the best boss I ever had and he was the very best of us.

Leng Ohlsson is a communications consultant and former journalist at Conexus Financial, publisher of Investment Magazine.