MORE than 100 years ago, Stockton foreshore was the last refuge of sailing ships, but some secrets remain hidden.
For as unlikely as it sounds, there still might be "buried treasure" offshore, if you happened to be an avid antique bottle collector.
For in the late 19th century, fleets of ageing windjammers regularly lined tie-up berths on the Hunter River shore awaiting coal cargoes.
Today the area is a waterfront park, but everyone knows it as the ballast ground, although fleets of ships no longer grace the shoreline.
Ships were often moored two abreast at Stockton wharves, but in 1906 and again in 1914, after World War 1 broke out, ships (some being impounded as enemy vessels) were usually berthed three, or even four, wide from the shore. The imposing wind-driven vessels would normally wait here patiently for months.
Most seamen on these waiting ships usually deserted, leaving only a skeleton crew of a few old seadogs, the cook and some deck apprentices onboard. The ships would then wait their turn to be moved by tug across the river to north Carrington to load coal.
This was the era when modern coastal steamships were taking over, leaving the sail vessels to rapidly become obsolete. Almost overnight, these once majestic ships had become the beggars of the seas. Their captains, desperate to survive by competing the only way they could, grabbed bulk cargo contracts to haul coal, wheat or nitrates across vast oceans to the other side of the world.
But before the sailors manned the capstan to raise anchor, all they could do was wait and wait and wait. In the meantime, as Stockton maritime author Terry Callen once wrote, over the waters floated the music of sea shanties. The nights would be filled with nostalgic songs of home - and the clink of bottles being consumed by bored sailors.
And what did these mariners then do? Why, fling their empty bottles overboard into the murky Hunter River, of course. Out of sight, out of mind.
But back in the 1980s a resourceful Newcastle scuba diver with the hobby of collecting antique bottles hit upon the then novel idea of trying to retrieve this likely hoard buried deep below, scattered on the muddy bottom of the Hunter River.
He had great success and other recreation divers have since followed his example, going up as far as historic Hinton, near Morpeth, to dive beneath old wharf sites and under the bridge.
And what might you find scavenging by feel in zero visibility both there and at Stockton? Well, anything really, ranging from abandoned liquor, sauce, ink, perfume and castor oil bottles in various shapes, sizes and colours from green to purple. It's a real lottery.
Or you might find a clay ginger beer bottle, or a hand-blown, heavily embossed 1880s soda bottle with a marble neck stopper. Or a blob top corker. Or maybe a teardrop-shaped or a 'stick' bottle or a torpedo-shaped 1880s cordial bottle. While some finds might be valuable, most are not, I guess. It's the thrill of the chase and hopefully, eventually, the joy of a chance discovery. And, once started, I understand how you might easily become obsessed with the search.
All of this suddenly reminded me of Newcastle's legendary brick collector, the late Ian Sherman, whose funeral was held only recently.
Known affectionately as the 'Brickman', Sherman collected about 7000 unusual Hunter Valley bricks over six decades, knowing the story behind each individual brick maker. He even wrote five reference books on the subject. Shortly before he passed, he donated thousands of bricks for special feature walls inside the refurbished Beach Hotel at Merewether.
Another of Sherman's many interests was collecting vintage bottles. I doubt whether he ever tried to mine Stockton waters for bottles, but he had fossicked slightly upriver on Kooragang land. Here, BHP had quietly dumped hundreds of used, and often rare, firebricks from its steel furnaces, circa 1914, in the mangroves.
For people who met Sherman only in the past few years may not have realised he was also the last president of Newcastle and Hunter Valley Historical Society. As well, he'd been president of the Lake Macquarie Antique Bottle Club and his knowledge was incredible.
A friend visiting his former Edgeworth home remembers once seeing an open cupboard there containing perhaps 60 antique cordial bottles.
In October 1989, Sherman gave insights into the forgotten history of cordial manufacturing in the Hunter with researcher Lynette Jackson for the University of Newcastle archives.
He spoke of a time before supermarkets and nationally-marketed products when most Hunter Valley towns and Newcastle suburbs had their own local soft drink maker. In 1972, there were 14 soft drink production companies employing 365 people in the Hunter. But employment dropped sharply by 1985.
Increasing competition, for example, meant the end of Cessnock's Knipe Brothers family-owned business after 65 years in operation. Maitland cordial maker R.Hands similarly folded after about 60 years. The Y. Y. Company at Lambton was once also a household name in Newcastle, but it also ceased trading in August 1983 after 63 years.
Sherman then revealed the story behind the odd Y.Y brand name. He said the catchy name originated from the Maori expression 'Wei Wei' meaning "water, clear water or sweet water". The daughter of the company's first chairman heard the words while honeymooning in New Zealand and suggested it would be a good name for the new company
More missing plaques
Who Is systematically removing, or destroying, evidence of Newcastle's rich past history?
This page last Saturday highlighted the apparent theft of perhaps 20 historic waterfront plaques, especially at the Newcastle Merchant Mariners Memorial on The Foreshore.
Adamstown's Lynette Dailey, whose mother Jean Roggers instigated the 1994 memorial, said later she's now come up with the names of 57 known Newcastle civilian sailors lost at sea in wartime.
Well, that news was bad enough, but then it got worse. Add another 10 metal plaques, or emblems, to the latest missing tally. Only a few days ago, Weekender discovered more commemorative plaques missing, this time at a landmark location near Nobbys Beach, at Camp Shortland.
Here, five plaques dedicated to the loss of three lives in the horrendous 1954 Stockton Bight amphibious disaster have disappeared, removed forcibly it would seem. The other five plaques that have gone AWOL are all in Civic Park.
Sadly, three are missing from the Vietnam Veterans' Memorial on the western edge of the park. Just as shocking, two of the three major plaques attached to, and identifying, Civic Park's iconic Captain Cook Fountain have also disappeared.
You might blame it on senseless vandalism, but two large sections of metal handrail also seem to have been torn away. Now roped off as a safety measure, the rails are awaiting replacement.
Luckily, the Civic Park cenotaph is untouched, so far (probably too public and spotlighted) but it makes you wonder if some brazen thieves might soon enter the Newcastle Cultural Centre/city library in Laman Street to try to pilfer the massive metal statues nicknamed "Him and Her" in the foyer to melt them down for their scrap metal value.
