THE LONG VIEW: The day the Severn Bridge opened

THE day the Severn Bridge opened was one of celebration, of opportunity, of wonder but also concern at possible protest, even violence. The thousands who came to see the Queen drive across the bridge and officially open the link made the occasion one of joy.

The opportunities came from what the Argus and many others saw as the potential for the bridge to open up the area's economy. The wonder came at the engineering spectacle of the bridge delicately spanning the Severn between England and Wales for the first time.

Newsreel of the Queen opening the Severn Bridge:

The threat, much-forgotten now, came from so-called 'Welsh extremists' who it was feared would try to blow up the bridge, seeing it as a menace to Welsh independence.

But mostly it was a day of celebration.

Around 10,000 people were gathered at the Welsh side, thousands more at Aust on the English side.

Near the Newhouse roundabout thousands sat in stands erected, thousands more stood on banks and verges. Soldiers from the South Wales Borderers on the Welsh side and the Royal Gloucestershire Hussars on the English side were joined by hundreds of uniformed school children and Girl Guides lining the approach to the bridge.

As the Royal motorcade drove over the new bridge from the English side of the bridge to the Welsh, ships on the river sounded their sirens. Among those heralding the Queen's procession were the Severn ferries, sailing for the last time across the river.

The Argus, mindful both of prophets of doom who foresaw money leaking across the Severn and, conversely, those who imagined Gwent’s economy would be instantly transformed tried to dampen extreme expectations.

HISTORIC DAY: The front page of the South Wales Argus on September 8 1966 on the day the Queen opened the Severn Bridge

“Despite the ballyhoo and controversy, the speculation hopes and fears, we do not envisage that tomorrow or next week or next year will bring a catastrophic upheaval in the two areas that are joined by this convenient road link” it said.

Instead the Argus saw a distinctive future shaping for our region: "It could well be that, just as Monmouthshire occupies a unique position between England and Wales, a new economic region will arise on Severnside that is neither wholly English nor wholly Welsh, but a voluntary association that is in the interests of both sides." The comment finished by saying: "We do hope it will mean closer commercial and social links with the rest of Britain" adding: "We hope Monmouthshire and the rest of Wales will join with us in extending to our near neighbours of the West a sincere 'Welcome to Wales' or as some might prefer 'Croeso i Gymru'".

The Argus too told of how the bridge was a 'great and unique engineering triumph'.

Each of the towers carrying the cables carried a weight of 8,000 tons. Each of the cables hung across the bridge and providing support for the roadway was made up of 8,322 runs of wire, each a mile long. They were squeezed into bundles to form the cables which were 20 inches thick.

The cables were likened to guy ropes on a tent which held the bridge taut. The "tent pegs" were massive concrete anchors 160 feet long and 132 feet high and weighed 90,000 tons each. Anything less than this would mean the bridge would be dragged towards the river by the enormous pull of the cables.

The bridge too was built to withstand the fierce power of the Severn, with the second-highest tidal range in the world. Sections of the bridge were aerofoil-shaped, like an aircraft's wing so they would offer the least resistance to high winds.

Her Majesty lauded the work and told of the bridge’s place in the modernisation of Britain: "This splendid bridge is an essential part of the motorway network now spreading out over the whole country to provide the modern and efficient road system which is so badly needed." She praised the engineers behind the vast project, calling it "huge and technically very advanced project" adding it was an "advertisement for the ability of British engineers and contractors."

This being fifty years ago the Argus told us that the Queen was wearing an "eye-catching tangerine coat" and the minister of transport, Barbara Castle was sporting a "close-fitting turquoise coat". We were left to speculate what the secretary of state for Wales Cledwyn Hughes had on for the day.

Once on the Welsh side, the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh took their place on the dais carpeted in green instead of the usual red. Mr Hughes invited Her Majesty to unveil a plaque set in a rough limestone block hewn from a quarry in Penhow. It had been fixed at the last minute and guarded by police throughout the night the Argus told us "to prevent any possible vandalism by Welsh extremists".

Police guards weren’t just for the plaque and stone that day. Beneath a headline telling of 'Strict security' as the Queen opened the bridge, the Argus reported how the occasion "went off like clockwork" despite threats by Welsh extremists to blow it up. Hundreds of policemen "many with radios" marshalled the area, with one officer commenting it was "just like a military operation".

The Argus said they did not agree with the nationalist viewpoint that the bridge was "another nail in the coffin of independent Welsh nationhood”.

But the worries were there that he month before the opening, Pontypool MP Leo Abse asked in the House of Commons the Secretary of State for the Home Department if "he was satisfied with the security arrangements being made on the opening of the Severn Bridge by Her Majesty the Queen".

He added: "In view of the past incidents by self-styled Welsh Nationalists and the tardy repudiation by their leaders of this type of conduct, may I ask my hon. Friend to take particular care, in view of the concern in Monmouth, that special security arrangements are made?

Shortly after the opening of the Severn Bridge in 1966, Welsh poet Harri Webb's penned a doleful ode to the new bridge: “Two lands at last connected, Across the waters wide, And all the tolls collected, On the English side”.

Concerns of a more humdrum sort were on most people’s minds that day. The bridge was seen as the way to cure Gwent of the dreadful congestion it suffered as traffic travelled across the border.

Readers were told how Chepstow "looked forward to breathing again" with the opening of the bridge. The town had been grinding to a halt with traffic attempting to pass on its way over the border. The jams in Chepstow had become "legend" the Argus said. One shop-owner commented: "Once the bridge starts funnelling off heavy traffic and the lorries, life should start getting bearable again. Anyone trying to cross from one side of the high street to the other, particularly during the summer, takes his life in his hands."

But there was a warning to those hoping that the bridge would mean all was quiet on the streets of Chepstow. Monmouthshire County Council's planning officer James Kegie warned: "Most of the improvements resulting from the opening of the bridge and the completion of the road network will be offset by the increase of local traffic in the 1970s unless Chepstow gets its inner relief road."

The other legacy of the bridge was that most basic issue of cost. On the day the Queen opened the bridge, resplendent in her tangerine coat, cheered by uniformed schoolchildren and saluted by plumed Hussars, it would cost two shillings and sixpence, or twelve and a half pence, to cross (although of course she did not have to pay it). The cost of the tolls and not the engineering triumph or the questions of nationhood would be how the bridge would be known.