Staying Power

Tomorrow he celebrates 38 years at the The Royal York Hotel... boy and man.

Father of six and grandfather of nine, 53-year-old Mike was immaculate in his head porter's tails as he and his beautiful 'minder', hotel sales manager Julia Bodmer, greeted me in the hotel's splendid cocktail lounge the other day. He started as a pageboy at the hotel in 1963 when he was just 15 after a two-week career in farming at Tollerton.

"I was frozen to the bone, I knew I would have to work inside so I came to the hotel and found myself manning the switchboard at first. The maze of plugs and wires had me reeling but I'm glad I stayed."

And stay he did. From pageboy to head porter, Mike has seen many changes, not least changes of ownership - five in all.

First it was British Transport Hotels, then Sea Containers of Orient Express fame, on to Crown Hotels, Principal Hotels and now the great monument to the golden age of railways is owned by Nomura of Japan.

Discretion is the watchword and Mike throws a careful glance over to Julia as he explains there is never a dull moment at the bustling hotel.

"Just last Tuesday, a woman guest told me she had seen a ghost in her room who had announced herself as Miss Amy," says Mike, smiling. "I don't know any Miss Amy but the woman guest was convinced she had seen and spoke to her."

Perhaps you should have charged Amy for the room, I suggest to Julia, as Mike recalls how a dressing table once mysteriously crossed the floor and barred the door to a guest's room from the inside after its occupant had left.

"I used my master key and managed to open the door just a little to get my hand and arm in to push it back into the room," recalls Mike.

"You see some sights working here..." he adds, as Julia's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. "But my lips are sealed. Discretion is vital in this game."

At this, Julia's eyebrows slide back in place.

Mike then produces a list of the great and good and not so good celebs he has fetched and carried for.

When I suggest it would take a special Dick Turpin pull-out supplement just to list them all, Mike says: "Oh, I've met many more famous people than I've listed for you."

To give you a flavour of the fame I'll just mention the Charlton brothers, Henry Cooper, Geoff Hurst, Tom Courtney, Vanessa Redgrave, Dustin Hoffman, Charlie Chaplin, The Rolling Stones (without just their shirts on) and The Beatles ("nice lads") and comedian/actor Lenny Henry.

Minder Julia is on the edge of her seat at the mention of that name.

Perhaps she is remembering how the tabloids had a field day with Lenny and the leggy Australian blonde. It seemed Lenny had been playing away from wife Dawn French and in the Royal York Hotel to boot. He was alleged to have met the woman after playing the Barbican Centre and allowed her into his hotel room.

"My lips are still sealed," says Mike as Julia suppresses a cry of joy. "All I know is, he went into town to buy toys for his kids and he was always a gent with me," adding impishly "but I suppose that when he got home he was up before Dawn the next day..." Mike actually appeared in a picture on Page 3 of The Sun standing behind a chastened Lenny Henry after the kangaroo dung hit the fan.

"Never thought I'd make Page 3 of the Sun," muses Mike mischievously.

The Royal York seems to engender loyalty, especially in the portering section.

Mike's colleague Aubyn Hurrell has been there 32 years and John Baistow for 31.

Throw in Mike's 38 years and the crew top the century mark.

Quite a record these days. Well done, lads and thanks Julia, I enjoyed my short stay at the hotel.

s THE report and picture of a youth dicing with death just feet from the mighty Ouse on one of the stanchions of York's new Millennium Bridge, and other youths damaging or dropping things from it on to passing pleasure craft below, struck a chord with one of my millions of readers.

Professor C J F P Jones - he's got more Christian names than you can shake a font at - is chairman of the BSI Bridge Design Committee and lecturer at Newcastle University. He wrote to say: "I refer to the report in the Evening Press about the damage caused to the new Millennium Bridge by someone apparently driving a vehicle over the structure.

"Damage to bridges from vandalism or inappropriate use is not a new phenomenon. The attached photograph from a plaque on a Dorset County bridge dating back to the early 19th century relates to the problem and also shows how it was dealt with in those days."

We get the message prof, although having walked over the Sydney Harbour and kissed one of my granddad's rivets - it was pre-fabricated in my hometown of Middlesbrough - being deported there would be no great inconvenience.

Strewth, I'd even chip in a couple of quid for passage.

u I AM the strongest link, hello! Thanks to this column and a careful barmaid at the Waggon And Horses watering hole in Lawrence Street, the new president of York Motor Club was up to his neck in pomp and pageantry when he was sworn in during a thrash at a local hotel last Saturday night.

Last year the president's chain of office was about to be binned when the barmaid handed it to me with the words: "You may be able to find out who this belongs to and give it back. I don't know what it is and I was told to bin it, seemed a pity really."

It turned out to be the motor club president's chain of office and had been missing for 12 years.

So with due ceremony and a sparkling new ribbon it was placed around the neck of incoming president Barry Long by awards co-ordinator Martin King who afterwards raised a glass to this column for reclaiming the lost treasure.

As ever, Dick is on the job and at your service.

u He said: "I don't know why you wear a bra; you've got nothing to put in it."

She said: "You wear underpants, don't you?"