WELL, who said miracles never happen?
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Who would think that a precious, rare relic of Newcastle's early industrial heritage could suddenly reappear 98 years after it disappeared?
But it seems likely it's the real deal, rescued from a rubbish skip more than a decade ago but not in Newcastle, but way up the Hunter Valley, out the back of Vacy township.
Tests by experts would have to be done to authenticate the object, but at first glance it would seem to be a big lost British metal nameplate (pictured) from the 'iron bridge' over Blane (later Hunter) Street near what is now the city's Lucky Country Hotel.
"The nameplate is more than a metre long, it's marked as coming from engineer Robert Stephenson's factory in England and has the date 1862," its finder and history researcher Wayne Patfield, of Largs, says.
We're extremely lucky the plate has survived all these years. If it had been dropped at any time it would have broken into a million bits.
"It's not a brass plaque as you might expect, but is made of wrought iron, like the actual old bridge itself.
"What else could it be from if not from the city's former coal railway bridge?
"We're extremely lucky the plate has survived all these years.
"If it had been dropped at any time it would have broken into a million bits."
Patfield had read the background story a few weeks ago when this history page featured the famous iron bridge once spanning Hunter Street and the great northern railway line opposite what is today Crown Street, in inner Newcastle.
This 19th century coal railway to the waterfront was a massive undertaking. It involved a heavy metal bridge fabricated in England and then shipped to Newcastle NSW to be supported by long walls of piers marching over Hunter Street towards the wharves.
Finally, when officially opened in 1865, it replaced a lower, timber bridge used until then for possibly 24 years.
The riveted iron bridge was crucial infrastructure for the Australian Agricultural Company (or AA Co) which initially began coal mining at their 'A' pit on the hillside above, before shifting activities to operate coal pits in suburban Cooks Hill and then out west at Hamilton.
The giant metal bridge, strong enough to support two parallel rail lines and locomotives hauling long lines of heavily-laden coal wagons, lasted probably 56 years until demolition of the structure began in 1921.
By 1923, it was finally gone, allowing the latest steam trams to trundle westwards.
Crown Street, which was once the boundary of the town of Newcastle and the AA Company's land holdings which stretched out to Hamilton, was no longer an obvious reminder of how town growth was restricted for so long.
Today, the sole surviving, heavily truncated pier remnant in just a dark rectangular, low brick base. But it's still surprises the onlooker, being more than 50ft (16m) long. It stands on a footpath almost unnoticed behind the Crown Street light rail station.
History sleuth Wayne Patfield said he came across the wrought iron bridge plaque about 12 years ago during a clearance of a Hunter Valley house once owned by a fellow collector.
"Unwanted stuff was being put into a waste bin and I noticed this piece of metal sticking out," Patfield says.
"I asked about it and was told 'have it - otherwise it's all going to the dump'.
"It's amazing the nameplate was not already smashed after being thrown in there.
"Later I found an old Newcastle Historical Society article about the nameplate and the wording it had on it was exactly the same as I had.
"The wording read: 'No 34 , Robert Stephenson & Co engineers, Newcastle Upon Tyne, 1862'.
"Now, I believe the lettering No 34 might be the number of metal items made in the English factory that year and the 1862 was the year the bridge was coming out of the factory in sections," Patfield says.
He had immediately recognised the nameplate's likely significance because the once prominent iron bridge had stood from 1865 until at least 1921 in Hunter Street diagonally opposite the old Tatler cinema, later part of Frontline Hobbies.
"The nameplate is in good condition, needing only a light sand blast," he says.
"On closer examination, there are even faint traces of the original paint, probably red with a white trim to make the letters stand out."
After the heavy bridge and nameplate were completed they were shipped across the world in a long voyage by ship, to be carefully re-assembled later in Newcastle.
The likely date of assembly is between 1863-1864.
"The nameplate is very heavy, probably weighing 30 kilograms. It was a struggle to get it on the back of my vehicle to get it ready to be photographed," Patfield says.
Although expensive, wrought iron is highly malleable and, having a much higher tensile strength than cast iron, became a favourite for colonial bridge builders between 1863 and 1893.
Steel then replaced wrought iron for railway bridges in the 20th century.
And there's a strange twist to the tale.
"I believe this nameplate was one of two made," Patfield says.
"The late coal historian, John Shoebridge, believed the other may have gone ages ago to the old Newcastle Region Museum when it was in the West End.
"If so, it may have been mislaid when the museum moved."
As for the future of his nameplate, Wayne Patfield hopes it might someday find a new home, mounted and on public display at its old Hunter Street site.
Meanwhile, Patfield has other projects on hand. His latest is a book, a rather unique record at the huge cargo trade once flourishing on the Paterson River.
After painstaking research lasting 14 years, he's just released Sailing Vessels on the Paterson River 1804-1912 ($20). A companion book, involving steam vessels on the once very congested Paterson River, is proposed to be released late next year.
"It's hard to believe now, but there were once 104 sail cargo vessels on the river," Patfield says.
"When steamships came, there were 140 of them and their combined coal smoke was so bad that one boat would only work on Sunday when the pollution was less.
"It was too dangerous otherwise".
One of the more interesting yarns in his new, fully illustrated sail book is the story of the 1832 paddle wheeler, Experiment. It truly had horsepower under the bonnet to propel it along.
Two horses in fact.
They walked on a treadmill inside the small wooden ship.
Two years later a 12hp steam engine was installed. I can only guess the original horses weren't up to the job.