ARGH. Grrr. Ergh. Not again for the gazillionth time. Please, can't someone - anyone, anywhere - make it stop?
I'm looking at you Sydney Morning Herald, although you should not feel alone in the media world, despite being a repeat offender. And despite almost a quarter-century of Newcastle tourism campaigns. On this occasion SMH, it was your Good Food column (27/3). The article itself was a glowing recommendation of how Newcastle offers visitors a massive surprise in that one can find great food and coffee. Newcastle a place for foodies. Who would have thought?
The article means well, but there is an underlying tone that comes across in a 'wow, Newcastle is so fab now, you maybe should absolutely go there for a bit on your way to Byron Bay,' kind of way. It is as if a once proud, blue-collar bastion of meat and three veg - washed down with a few bots of Reshes Dinner Ale, with a punch-on in a public bar for dessert - has all grown up, thrown on a designer labelled French linen suit and started driving a BMW.
The article in the spotlight here in the SMH was titled 'These are the best places to eat, drink (and dine barefoot) in Newcastle'. The subhead was 'All you need to know for a weekend of long lunches, cold beer and cocktails in the Steel City'. Steel City. Not even 'former' Steel City. Just Steel City. Triggered, baby. Dine barefoot? Who do you think we are? Late night passengers on the inter-city train from Central to Gosford?
It may well be a Sisyphean task to try and stop this Steel City nonsense being slapped into the keyboards of big city scribes and the microphones of sports broadcasters whenever they are tasked with singing the praises of the best city in Australia. But it is worth calling out tired cliches that are reaching tens of thousands of eyes and ears. Newcastle defies easy definition. It is a place where the past and the present collide in a blender of contradiction. Steel City narrows definition and understanding to what was once, not what is now.
Once the bowels of Australia's industrial landscape, where the production of steel forged personal destinies and every drop of sweat evidenced determination for a better life, Newcastle was a city baptised in the blast furnaces of progress. Because of those blast furnaces, it was known simply as Steel City. But the BHP stopped making steel in Newcastle in 1999. There is little doubt the upcoming quarter-century closure of the Steelworks this September will sprout the same commemoration memories wheeled out for the 10th and the 20th anniversary.
Yet the pulsing heart of this city remains haunted by its own past through faint praise seen in the rear-view mirror by those from south of the Hawkesbury. While only a mug would downplay the role of BHP in shaping the city and the nation, the Steel City label is nowadays inaccurate, lazy, sloppy, and very, very tiresome. All perpetrators should be sent a cease-and-desist letter authorised by Big Dog and Super Hubert.
But whether it is a beer label or a tourist promo wrapped in 'wow', continual reference to Newcastle as Steel City is much more than a nostalgic nod to a joyous imaginary past where everyone had a job and there was none of this social media malarkey. It is a heavy weight carried around the neck of a modern city that continues to reinvent itself beyond the boundaries of defunct steel production, Henny Penny feeds and cult-like worship of rugba league players. There's no steel production, Henny Penny has left the inner-city and the world game football (yes, soccer if you must) is the No.1 choice of ball team sports for male and female participants across all age groups by a country mile.
The fading embers of the Steel City cliche should be allowed to burn out, not constantly reignited by the bellows of well-meaning puff pieces promoting Newcastle as a place where -surprise, surprise - food is edible and coffee is drinkable. Steel City bore witness to the clang of metal against metal, a cacophony that long echoed through the valleys and reverberated in the souls of its inhabitants. But that is now a bygone era, a chapter in the annals of time now further fading into sepia-toned memory.
Give Steel City a rest.
