Bernard Josephs, the news and political editor of the JC between 1988 and 2008, has died aged 70.

He was a journalist of the old school, a foot-in-the-door man who learned his trade when he joined the (now defunct) London Evening News in 1973 and went on to be at the centre of a world-agenda setting scoop.

He became his first paper's assistant news editor in 1979 — but then astonished his colleagues by announcing that he was making aliyah.

Bernie, his wife Billie and their two children fetched up on Kibbutz Tsuba, just outside Jerusalem, but it was not long before its attractions wore off, and Bernie became the Jerusalem correspondent of the London Evening Standard and the Sunday Express.

Just over 30 years ago, in December 1986, Bernie was working for the Standard when it — and possibly he — floored the world with a gripping story. 

The Israeli technician Mordechai Vanunu had decided to spill nuclear secrets to the Sunday Times. Vanunu was caught by Israeli agents and, on his way to prison, wrote a message on the palm of his hand, saying he had been kidnapped in Rome.

He held up his hand to the window of the prison van and the image was photographed by scores of cameramen. 

The military censor, Brigadier Yitzchak Shani, held up publication of the Vanunu hand story for 20 hours — only allowing publication after the London Evening Standard broke the story.

Foreign correspondents had to abide by the sometimes erratic decisions of the censor or risk being refused accreditation inside Israel. Shani and his team accused Bernie of having ignored the censor — which he vehemently denied.

He said said he viewed the accusation “with amazement, and I feel they are a personal insult to someone who is both an Israeli citizen, and a proud Israeli citizen”.

While police investigated the source of the leak, Israel’s Government Press Office suspended all the services it provided to Bernie and his newspaper, including access to briefings and entry permits to defence and government installations.

The Standard’s editor, John Leese, insisted that the paper’s story came from another source, issuing a statement saying that details of Vanunu’s kidnap came to the paper “from an entirely different source and our story was compiled in London”. But he refused to identify the source.

Bernie, then 38, could have faced a 15-year jail sentence if he had been found to have violated censorship rules.

The police probe fizzled out but the strain on Bernie may have contributed to his decision to return to Britain.

He brought to the JC a wicked sense of humour and work ethic honed in Essex (his birthplace), papers, and Israel.

One day, going home from the JC to Hendon, Bernie watched in exasperation as a group of Israeli pupils of JFS rampaged all over a Northern Line commuter carriage.

Bernie, an imposing figure, stood up, and in rapid, quick-fire Hebrew, told the students that if their behaviour continued he would not only advise their head teacher but also their parents — and the Israeli army, where he would ensure they served only in the most menial capacity. The stunned pupils sat down.

Bernie, for his part, smiled, coughed, and smiled again.