How our Nancy made history

WHILE a number of the 500 photographs in Plymouth In the Twenties and Thirties have been seen on these pages before, the vast majority will be 'new' to most Looking Back readers, and it never ceases to amaze me how many more 'new' old images there are 'out there'.

One of my favourites is a composite of two pictures Bob Harvey supplied. Taken by his father Frank from the top of the Guildhall at the end of the 1930s, they offer a perspective of Plymouth that few were ever privy to, but which now we can all enjoy.

While the join isn't exactly invisible, if we do our best to ignore it we're left with a stunning view across the Guildhall roof, complete with its prominent pinnacle and gable-end statuary.

The roof detailing on the erstwhile Municipal Building also stands out, as does the original St Andrew's Cross in the little park-like area in front of the church.

Although this was the cross that indirectly gives us the name St Andrew's Cross today, it is nowhere near as old as the main fabric of the church; indeed it was little more than 40 years old when this photograph was taken.

It was in 1895 that St Andrew's churchyard was levelled and St Andrew's Cross erected. Prior to that time the yard, which had stood well above street level and had been surrounded by a very high wall, had been a major factor in inhibiting vistas and traffic movement around this junction. However, no-one could have possibly imagined the extent to which the new layout, which we see here, was a portent of how open and airy the city centre might one day appear.

Note too, in this composite shot, Charles Church standing proud above Spooner's Corner.

Another absolute treasure is the shot of Plymouth's Pier at night; this first appeared in Looking Back some three or four years ago and at the time I was unsure of the date, believing it to be mid-Twenties.

Happily, among the various bits of feedback that followed the piece, W Currie of Hartley Vale pointed out that the photo had earlier appeared in the 1928 Doidge's Annual, a copy of which I happened to have on my bookshelf.

The original caption read: "A unique scene. For the first time at Plymouth (during Civic Week) ships of the Atlantic Fleet were illuminated and together with the Promenade Pier presented a pretty spectacle."

Our correspondent from Hartley Vale added the following information; "Having studied the ships' profiles I can say that the four vessels mid-picture to the left were light cruisers, either Ceres Class, Carlisle Class, Danae Class or Delhi Class.

"My opinions are based on the number of funnels (two) and their spacing from the bridge/foremast. The mid-nearest could well be in a D Class, the other three almost certainly C Class."

A supersize blow-up of the photograph is one of those currently on show and available from the MASA Fine Art Gallery in the exhibition that accompanies the publication of the new book.

Another cracking image is the aerial shot of the Hoe with the Pier, Bandstand, the stripeless Smeaton's Tower, Tinside Pool and the First World War memorial: but the book isn't just about how Plymouth looked in the Twenties and Thirties. It's also about the life of the city at that time and the personalities who dominated the headlines – such as Lord and Lady Astor and Archie Ballard.

When Waldorf Astor's father died in October 1919, few could have guessed the impact which that event would have on political history.

Women had taken part, for the first time, as voters and as candidates (there were 17 across the British Isles) in the General Election that had followed the Armistice of 1918; indeed, one woman, Constance Gore-Booth – Countess Markiewicz – was elected as the Sinn Fein candidate for St Patrick's, Dublin, but as she, and other successful Sinn Fein candidates, refused to take the oath of allegiance, she could not take her seat in Parliament.

And so it was that an opportunity presented itself in Plymouth. On the death of his father, Waldorf became Lord Astor, and was obliged to relinquish his seat in the Commons for a seat in the House of Lords.

He wasn't keen to do this, and tried to find some legal means of getting around the situation – unsuccessfully, as it transpired. In the meantime his 40-year-old American wife Nancy decided to stand in his place.

Waldorf had held on to his Conservative Coalition seat in 1918 with an 11,750 majority over Labour, but there had been a few by-election failures for the Lloyd George Coalition since and, more significantly perhaps, no woman had yet taken her seat in Parliament.

Polling day was November 15 (89 years ago today!) but, tantalisingly, the count had to be delayed by almost two weeks to take account of the votes of those men serving overseas.

Thus it was that on November 28, 1919, Nancy Astor took her place alongside fellow- candidates William Gay (Co-operative Labour) and Isaac Foot (Liberal).

The count lasted until the middle of the afternoon on that cold November day. There was ice underfoot and little flurries of snow in the air as the Town Clerk announced that Nancy Astor had polled more votes that her two opponents had managed between them, and that she was duly elected to serve as the Member of Parliament for Plymouth Sutton.

"Lady Astor won that election not only because of her husband and ancestry, but because she was as good an electioneer as some of us will ever see", says Michael Foot of that historic day.

"She had her own way of using the platform and no holds were barred in the way she dealt with hecklers.

"She was the truest expositor of the women's case, and from the start she proved herself a wonderful new speaker on behalf of the people of Plymouth."

Four days later, on Monday, December 1, 1919, the new member, dressed in what would become her parliamentary uniform – black hat, coat and skirt with a white blouse – was introduced to the House, straight after Question Time.

Whether Nancy Langhorne Astor would have been the Suffragettes' first choice is immaterial; history had been made and a new era had begun.

Back in Plymouth, meanwhile, the Astors continued to put their own money into various projects, most of them contributing in some significant way to improving the provision of local education, sport, health and housing.

So too, in his own, maverick and male-centred way, did Albert Casanova Ballard. 'Archie' was a self-professed 'financier and landed proprietor' who arrived in Plymouth in 1923 as a 57-year-old multi- millionaire and was 'struck by the hooliganism and rough behaviour of boys, half of whom were fatherless, the men having been killed in the war'.

It wasn't long before he'd opened a club for boys, to be followed a few years later by a wonderful, purpose-built centre at Millbay, whose opening ceremony was attended by 2,500 guests.

President of Argyle from 1932 and generous with scholarships and donations, Ballard was undoubtedly one of the biggest names in inter-war Plymouth.