100 years ago

The authorities at Scotland Yard had received information of a dastardly plot by militant Suffragettes, more outrageous in character than any that had hitherto marked their campaign of unbridled crime.

This was no less than a carefully engineered scheme to set fire to the office of the Standard newspaper. Lithographic letters bearing the private address of a prominent supporter of the suffrage movement had been sent out to a number of the militants inviting them to attend a private and confidential gathering.

Blank spaces filled up in handwriting announced that the meeting’s object was to consider steps that might be taken to bring about reprisals upon the Standard for its persistently hostile attitude to militancy. These reprisals were the setting on fire of the printing and publishing offices of this journal. Realising the terrible risk of life, apart from the destruction of property that must attend such an occurrence, a person who learned of it had disclosed the conspiracy in all its revolting details.

50 years ago

It was the late Sir Charles Wilson who on a famous occasion, asserted “I am Leeds!” Although he would be the last person to make such a claim, since modesty was one of his outstanding traits, there was no one who had more justification for declaring “I am York” than John Bowes Morrell, who was celebrating his 90th birthday.

Twice Lord Mayor of York, once Sheriff, an honorary Freeman, for 40 years a member of the City Council and chairman of its finance committee for a quarter of a century, founder and chairman of York Civic Trust, the man who played a leading role in the protracted negotiations which led to the establishment of the University of York, a munificent benefactor – these were just a few of the services he had given to the city he adored. JBM – these initials were as familiar to us in York as those of the British Broadcasting Corporation.

25 years ago

Yorkshire Museum director Dr Brian Hayton was pictured at York’s historic St Leonard’s Hospital, which tramps had been treating like home.

Talks were being held about a plan to fit a £2,000 set of steel bars across the entrance to keep vagrants out, because of rubbish and damage to mediaeval memorials. The ruins beside York Central Library were all that remained of Britain’s greatest hospice for the poor. In those days the brethren gave out free loaves, herring and on one recorded occasion 14 gallons of beer.

At its height, St Leonard’s Hospital stretched to York Minster, and provided free schools, almshouses, and food and shelter.