In July 1972, less than two months after Tom Eder’s graduation from Central Catholic High School, his father, Norman, died of a massive heart attack.
Eder had known John Snyder at Central Catholic, was a student in his history class and watched Snyder’s basketball teams play. Eder was in the stands at the Saints’ crackerbox gym, The Pit, but not on the court beyond the freshman-sophomore level. It’s all his skills would allow.
“I hadn’t been a varsity player. I hadn’t been one of his guys,” Eder said.
That didn’t matter to Snyder.
"We were at Carmody-Flynn Funeral Home, the old one on Chestnut Street. Here he is walking down the street at my father’s visitation and funeral, and then just reached out to me several times that summer,” Eder said.
“I’ve never forgotten that and never will. That’s the kind of man he was. I think any kid who went to Central, he felt he was part of them. That sealed the bond between us.”
The bond stayed strong until Snyder’s last breath, which came Monday at age 93. The man known as “The Dean” during his 39-year tenure on the Saints’ bench and more than 50 years at the school leaves a legacy of perseverance, master storytelling, commitment to all things Central Catholic and a huge, caring heart.
He pushed his students and players to be their best. He demanded maximum effort and could be tough, especially on the court. No one was more competitive.
Yet, beneath the sometimes gruff exterior was, in the words of his daughter, Rae Ann Ploense, “a heart of gold.”
An example?
Rae Ann had been dating her eventual husband, Dave Ploense, about six months when he joined the family for Christmas Eve mass and dinner at the home of John and Sandy Snyder.
There was a knock at the door and John Snyder said, "Dave, will you get that for me?" A young woman stood on the step with money in her hand and said, “I wanted to pay you back sir.’”
Ploense replied, ‘I don’t think it’s me. I wonder if it’s my girlfriend’s dad.”
The woman shared that months earlier, she was “down and out” and walked past the Snyder home after receiving groceries at nearby Holy Trinity Church.
“I was walking to my car thinking, ‘How can I make it through a week? I don’t have any money,’” she said. “I looked sad and the man in the front yard said, ‘Can I help you?’ She explained that she was worried and he said, ‘Hold on.’”
He reached in his pocket and handed her money. The woman vowed to pay him back. “No, no,” he said. “Just take care of yourself.”
The man was John Snyder.
“I don’t think people know that he had the most compassionate heart and would give the shirt off his back for you,” Rae Ann Ploense said. “He loved hard and was so empathetic and was a man of integrity and character.
“If you just saw him on the sideline, screaming and yelling, or some of his quotes in the paper, which we all know were historic, you wouldn’t realize, ‘That guy has a heart of gold and it goes so deep.’”
Snyder had experienced “down and out.” At 14 years old, babysitting his three siblings, a monsignor came to their Odell home with news Snyder’s parents had been killed when a train struck their car.
A year later, living with an aunt and uncle in Cornell, he entered Cornell High School as “a very angry person.,” he once said.
That changed thanks to a teacher and coach, Frank Olivieri. Snyder became a standout athlete and found his life’s path.
“I just lived to go to school and have that guy put his arm around me and say, ‘Good job,’ or kick my butt when I didn’t do what I was supposed to do,” Snyder told me in 2010. “If he had been unfair to me, I don’t know where I would have gone.”
Snyder enlisted in the Marine Corps and saw combat duty in the Korean War. The military provided him access to the G.I. bill, enabling him to attend Illinois State Normal University (now Illinois State) and become a teacher and coach, just like Frank Olivieri.
“He wanted to be that person for his students, his athletes,” Rae Ann said. “He knew the importance that one person could make on your life.”
Eder called him “one of the most impactful men” in his life. Eder coached basketball at lower levels at Holy Trinity Grade School as a high school junior and senior, then coached the Central Catholic sophomore team in 1976 while student teaching under Snyder.
The Saints varsity team advanced to the Class A Elite Eight in Champaign that year, one of three Snyder teams to do so in the 1970s.
Eder went on to teach and coach basketball at Danville Schlarman, Peoria Bergan and Normal Community – several times against Snyder – before going into administration.
“He was absolutely the greatest impact on my young coaching career and as I went on through,” Eder said. “Maybe that came from his early life. He didn’t make a big deal out of the tragedies of his upbringing. Think how that trauma has to impact you. Maybe that was a very compelling thing inside of him as to how he treated me.
“That impacted Coach Snyder, shaped his life and his aspirations, but he passed that to me and I know many others. I think that carried on throughout his life in the most positive ways, in his relationships with kids, young men especially, but everyone he came in contact with.”
Bobby Moews was in contact with Snyder often, first as a player and later as the Saints’ head football coach. Moews admits “we kind of butted heads a little bit,” but said, “When the football job came open, he was kind enough to hire me. I hadn’t been a head coach yet. He took a chance on me and I’m forever grateful for that. It was a great relationship.”
Central won two state championships under Moews, who marveled at the time and energy Snyder poured into Central Catholic. In addition to 39 years as head basketball coach, he served as athletic director, was head baseball coach for several years and head football coach for one season.
“He would have done anything for Central Catholic and anything for the kids and the administration and everybody,” Moews said. “He made Central Catholic what it is.”
Moews and Snyder were reunited in September when the school had a celebration of 100 years of football. Snyder was in a wheelchair and receiving oxygen, but loved seeing so many former Saints he had taught and/or coached.
Especially Moews.
“His eyes lit up and mine lit up when we saw each other,” Moews said. “We gave each other a hug. It was really good to see him.”
Chances are Snyder shared a story or two. He had an amazing ability to recall details of games from 40, 50, even 60 years ago. He was a “natural storyteller” in class as well, Eder said, drawing from his passion for history and own experiences in the Korean War.
He knew how to “hold court,” and did so as recently as late fall at a gathering of former Intercity coaches, officials and media members. Physically, he was slowing down, but mentally, he hadn’t lost a step, staying true to his reputation as a straight shooter.
Eder called him “a truth teller,” and occasionally, that got him in trouble. After retiring as coach, he told me in that raspy voice, “The only problem I had with you guys at The Pantagraph was you quoted me accurately.”
We laughed, his shoulders shaking as he slapped me on the back.
Funny what you remember when you lose a friend, and that’s what John Snyder was to me and so many others.
He could scowl and snarl on the sideline, all while spitting chewing tobacco into a nearby cup. Invariably, some of it found his shirt. He could complain to a reporter about a call late in the game as the officials dressed next to his office. When they emerged, he would thank them profusely.
“Great job fellas,” he’d say.
There were a lot of layers to a man who coached the Saints to 558 victories, 16 regional championships and three Elite Eight berths. He did it with flair, fire, fun and his players’ best interests at heart.
He was good at what he did and great at who he was.
It’s a nice epitaph.
