The front page of The Examiner on Monday, January 6, 1975, read “Hobart Disaster”.
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“Ship wrecks bridge, sinks”, it went on to say.
“A tanker rammed and wrecked the Tasman Bridge in the Derwent River last night and then sank with 42 men on board.”
The tanker was the Lake Illawarra, and the disaster went on to claim the lives of 12 people; seven were vessel crew members, and five were in vehicles that drove into the river as the tanker ploughed its way through.
It was about 9.30pm when the iron ore carrier made history.
The weather was rough, but it was later determined that incompetence by the captain Boleshaw Pelc was what ultimately caused the tanker to collide with two of the bridge pylons.
The Illawarra and its load – zinc concentrate – sunk, along with 127 meters of road surface, and four cars.
Some vehicles were left teetering over the edge, and The Examiner at the time reported that witnesses swore they saw a remaining section of the bridge “swaying in the breeze”.
The Examiner at the time reported that witnesses swore they saw a remaining section of the bridge “swaying in the breeze”.
However, the damage spread further than the immediately visible.
The 40,000-odd Hobartians who lived on the Eastern Shore found their 1.4-kilometre bridge trip into the city replaced by a 50-kilometre drive.
Those who lived on the city side were also put out, for the airport was on the Eastern Shore.
It took 34 months for the bridge to be replaced, and a lot changed in that time.
A lot of the Eastern Shore residents worked, learnt, and celebrated on the city side of the Derwent.
This was a part of their lifestyle that they either lost, or were greatly inconvenienced to continue enjoying.
Historian Stefan Petrow told The Examiner in 2015, on the occasion of the disaster’s 40th anniversary, that such a physical isolation had a profound effect on the community’s collective state of mind.
While ferry services and car punts sprung up almost immediately after the disaster (including one operated by Bob Clifford, who would go on to start the now internationally used Incat ferry builders), they were not overly straight-forward or time efficient.
Not only were the Eastern Shore residents, who made up about 30 per cent of Hobart’s population, isolated from work, school, and entertainment, they were also cut off from services like ambulances and fire brigades.
Crime rates increased noticeably. However, there was a positive to come from the temporary alienation. They Eastern Shore community, led by then-Clarence warden Bruce Goodluck, began to stand on its own two feet.
It built its own schools, shops, and infrastructure. And in turn, built its own community spirit.