With just five days to go before the Evening Press goes compact, JO HAYWOOD looks back at some of the milestone stories of its 122-year history.

A half-penny, four-page broadsheet under the banner of The Evening Press ( it boasted: a daily newspaper for Yorkshire, Durham and the adjoining counties) first appeared in York on Monday October 2, 1882. There was no front page news that day.

In fact, there was no front page news any day until 1945, when breaking news was finally given precedence over advertising.

Even the death of Queen Victoria was banished to page three, and the most striking piece on the front of the 10,000th issue of the paper on April 1, 1914 was an advert for Hunts' ales and stouts.

This didn't mean, however, that the Press wasn't first with the news.

In its first week the paper showed its mettle by producing a special edition on the occupation of Egypt, accompanied by shorter stories about a Tadcaster innkeeper going into liquidation and the death of a young woman who threw herself from the upper gallery of Notre Dame in Paris.

It also showed its campaigning credentials from the off, giving readers a rather gruesome account of a Danish execution, then still carried out with axe and block, before launching an impassioned plea for its abolishment.

The paper really came into its own, however, with the outbreak of the First World War.

As well as reporting on the big stories of the day and producing a special edition on Sunday July 23, 1916, bringing news of the horrific happenings in the Battle of the Somme, it also took time to look at the effects of the war on the home front.

This more circumspect tone was set on the first day of war when, on Wednesday August 5, the Press reported: "Everywhere today one saw soldiers in uniform about the city. They were to be met with at every street corner."

When Britain declared war on Germany on Sunday September 3, 1939, a special edition was quickly produced carrying news of the sinking of the British Atlantic liner Athenia by a German U-boat.

On a practical note, it was revealed that 1,500 Anderson shelters, named after the Home Secretary Sir John Anderson, were on their way to families whose income did not exceed £250 and who had gardens to put them in.

And the paper also printed advice on "how to build your own dugout", and which room to go to in the event of an air raid (the pantry).

In happier times, the Press joined the rest of the country in celebrating the coronation on Tuesday June 2, 1953, despite the weather's threats to scupper it.

"As the crowds slowly dispersed from the packed public houses and the Market Square, treading carefully between the puddles, there was the feeling that, despite the unkindness of the weather, York had triumphantly celebrated a great day," a somewhat dewy-eyed commentator concluded.

The coronation coverage was published in compact form, as the Press briefly went tabloid in the 1950s. Reader surveys showed, then as now, a widespread preference for a more compact paper.

In a similar royal vein, it is interesting to note that Queen Victoria only spent half an hour in York - no wonder her death was relegated to page three - when she stopped off at the Station Hotel in 1854 on her way to Scotland.

Queen Elizabeth, on the other hand, has been a regular visitor to the city down the years.

She was guest of honour at York's own royal wedding on June 8, 1961, when the Duke of Kent married 16-year-old Yorkshire girl Katharine Worsley.

Two years later, on October 1, 1963, the Press announced that York had officially become a university city after 350 years of petitions and appeals. The first students arrived on October 9, followed by thousands more in the intervening years.

At least 100,000 people flocked to York on Monday May 31, 1982, to be blessed by Pope John Paul II, who was speaking on Knavesmire as part of his British tour. On hand to keep the pilgrims going during their long wait was Jimmy Savile. In a comic aside, the Press correspondent described how the unofficial warm-up man made a brief appearance on the podium before doing several laps of honour, much to the delight of the cheering crowd.

At the end of 2000, York was reduced to a sandbag city, hit by unprecedented levels of rain and awash with flood water. There were similar scenes on Wednesday January 6, 1982, when flood-hit York was brought to a virtual standstill.

Shops closed early, employers were encouraged to let their staff leave early and about 40 streets were completely blocked.

Guy Rukin, director of the rivers division of Yorkshire Water Authority, glumly said: "This is the blackest day of my career." He was not alone - not even Superman could beat the floods. A special showing of the film at the ABC in Piccadilly had to be scrapped because the auditorium was under eight feet of water.

First came the flood, then the fire. On July 9, 1984, York Minster was hit by a devastating fire, leaving its famous rose window in shattered fragments.

The Press reported how more than 100 firefighters from North, South and West Yorkshire, Cleveland and Lancashire fought through 1,000C heat to bring the blaze under control.

This was not the first time the Minster had gone up in flames.

It was hit in 1753, 1829 and 1840. But it was the first time the city's newspaper could record the devastation and the resurrection of York's stunning centrepiece at first hand.

When war was declared on Iraq by President George Bush Snr on Thursday January 17, 1991, the Press was once again not caught napping. In fact, it gave its staff a pat on the back for working through the night to bring its readers a 5am edition detailing the launch attacks of Operation Desert Storm.

It was another emergency edition that brought York news of the death of Princess Diana on Sunday August 31, 1994, under the succinct front page headline "Diana dead".

A year later, the headline on the rail crisis special edition of Wednesday January 11, 1995, was even more to the point.

"Betrayed" was the single word that headlined a scathing attack on British Rail after it delivered a knock-out blow to the city's ABB carriageworks, bringing York's historic train industry to its knees.

Never afraid to speak its mind, the paper launched into BR in a front page comment, saying: "What a farce - and a tragedy for York.

"BR would have us believe there is 'no commercial case' for replacing old trains. Who are they kidding?"

There was room for more comment on the front page of Wednesday October 4 of the same year, but this time it was to hail the conquering heroes of York City, who managed to beat Premiership giants Manchester Utd 4-3 on aggregate to take them through to the third round of the Coca-Cola Cup.

Trains were back in the news again on Wednesday February 28, 2001, only this time it was lives and not jobs that were lost.

A Land Rover driven by Gary Hart plunged off the M62 at Great Heck, near Selby, and hit the 5.59am York to London GNER train.

All nine coaches were derailed, but continued upright for half a mile before colliding head-on with a coal train.

From the tragic to the joyous, these are just a few of the many stories in the Evening Press archive. In the years of compact coverage to come there will be many more milestone stories.

Updated: 09:15 Wednesday, September 01, 2004