As the Hunter faces the adversity of a global pandemic - with hundreds of new COVID-19 cases continuing to be recorded in the region each day - a message from the morning after Newcastle's most infamous challenge is worth remembering.
Yesterday marked 32 years since the deadly 1989 earthquake that killed 12 people (another who died a day later has since been added to that tally), injured more than 160 and ran up an ultimate cost estimated at $4 billion.
"The earthquake was a brutal blow, individually and collectively, but Newcastle's powerful community bonds will cope with its effects," the Newcastle Herald's editorial read the morning after the quake shattered the city.
The tremor, which was rated at 5.6 on the Richter scale, damaged about 12,000 buildings in Newcastle and Lake Macquarie - 167 had been demolished by the end of the year.
Nine people died when the western side of Newcastle Workers Club, on the corner of King and Union streets, collapsed. An estimated 80 per cent of Beaumont Street in Hamilton was damaged along with about half the Newcastle CBD.
"The bus drivers quickly returned to work, running shuttles to empty the city of shoppers and workers as the rescue crews, the army and the SES moved in," the Herald's Ian Kirkwood wrote in his excellent series marking the 30th anniversary of the quake in 2019.
"Despite the utterly unprecedented scenes across the city in those first few hours after the quake, few if any reports of trouble emerged, with the army and police working quickly to set up road block barricades in Hamilton and across the roads running into the city, and around those buildings that had fallen or were likely to.
"In the end, it took years for the visual impacts of the quake to disappear, but for those who lived through it, the memories are never too far from the surface. The dangers of coalmining and steelmaking had long toughened the Hunter to adversity, but the quake started the trend in visiting politicians to sympathise with Novocastrians for "doing it tough". And for a fair while after December 28, 1989, that was pretty much the truth."
Three decades later, as the region faces another serious challenge, it's a good time to reflect on how resilient this community is.
Nickname that stuck
THE Herald brought you the story of how the community has rallied around Belmont Vietnam veteran Grahame 'Jacko' Geatches, after vandals smashed his beloved collection of gnomes in his front yard. We asked Jacko where his nickname came from.
"A long time ago when I was working over at the Swansea RSL, the top floor was all concrete and they wanted it jack-hammered out and the other people couldn't lift a 90 kilo jack hammer," he said.
"I was fairly big and strong so I was on that for at least 10 months. The secretary manager said 'we've got to nickname you Jacko'. It went right through the building game and now everyone calls me Jacko - everyone."
