As Carrie Symonds prepares to move to Downing Street with the new Tory Prime Minister, meet her great-grandmother – a Labour activist and champion of the trade union movement.
Alderman Emily Beavan, a magistrate and councillor who fought for women’s rights in some of the most deprived parts of Manchester, might seem to have little in common with the glossy girlfriend who helped propel Boris Johnson into No10.
Emily Beavan’s work in the city 80 years ago left a long legacy and was honoured with a street named after her in Openshaw.
Son John Beavan became the political editor of the Daily Mirror and went on to be made Baron Ardwick and an MEP.
When John died in 1994, one obituary described his mother as “the redoubtable Alderman Emily Beavan, a name still remembered and savoured in Manchester Labour circles”.
John Beavan had a son, Matthew Symonds – Carrie’s dad – after an affair.
Matthew also became a newspaper man, and had an affair with lawyer Josephine McAfee.
The result of this affair was Carrie, who went on to be educated at the £20,000-a-year Godolphin and Latymer School in Hammersmith, West London.
She now campaigns on the environment.
Emily, born in 1882, stood for election to Manchester City Council twice before finally being voted in to represent her ward for almost 20 years.
She did not stop there, fighting for women’s rights and fair working conditions as Chairman of the National Women’s Co-operative Guild.
Historian Professor Karen Hunt of Keele University says: “She was the kind of woman who’d be known in the local community and someone people would go to for advice.
“Women like her who stood for the council acted as the bridge between the council and the community.
“They’d fight for things like new wash houses. I think anyone who found out she was their ancestor would be proud of that level of activism.”
At a Co-operative Guild’s Jubilee Meeting in 1933, Mrs Beavan stood against barriers to Anglo-Russian trade and accused the Government of attacking educational advantages won for workers’ children.
She said: “As wives and mothers we are horrified by the figures on maternal mortality and we are determined to do our utmost to end this national disgrace.”
As the Second World War broke out Mrs Emily Beavan was appointed to Manchester City Council’s Food Control Committee.
As it ended she was on the School Health Services sub-committee. By 1961 and now Alderman Emily E Beavan JP had risen to be the chair of the same sub-committee.
It is believed Emily died aged 89 in 1972 – but her name and work live on.
Locals & Tory PM are streets apart
Women in inner city Manchester today may not have quite the same struggles as they did back in Emily Beavan’s day, but they still fear for their future with Boris Johnson as Prime Minister.
On Emily Beavan Close, in Openshaw – named after Carrie Symonds’ great- grandmother – local residents are less than impressed with our new premiere.
Former youth leader and child protection worker Claire Staniforth, 52, says: “We are in for it now. He is one idiot. Emily Beavan would say, ‘Get him out!’”
Claire, who has lived on the neat cul-de-sac for 40 years, believes Boris’s vow to deliver Brexit –deal or no deal – is wrong.
“Prices will go sky high. We rely on disability benefits because of my husband. We can barely survive now,” she says.
“Boris doesn’t know what it feels like not to be able to put food on the table or buy your child a pair of shoes.
“Politics changed the day Margaret Thatcher came to power.
“Everyone turned dog eat dog, and not in my back yard. There is no sense of community any more.”
Community was something for which Emily Beavan fought tooth and nail.
Further down the close, Claire’s neighbour Christine Gee agrees that Emily Beavan would have fought for fairness and equality and tried to get the country back on an even keel.
Shop worker Christine, 60, says: “God help us with Boris. There should’ve been another election. I worry about the future generation.
“It is our grandchildren and great-children who are going to cop for it. We should get the young kids into work. We need to give them something to do then we won’t have all these stolen cars and all sorts going on.
“If they bring back apprenticeships and give them training then they end up with a job with prospects.
“But there is nothing for them – the government doesn’t put any money into it. And then if the young people have jobs and training then people like me could retire.”
But it isn’t just the older residents of the close who are fearful of what the Johnson regime will mean for them.
Mum of two Isabella Foks, 33, is originally from Poland and concerned about what Brexit will mean for her family.
“Both my children were born here,” she says.
“I am worried. We have been here for six years and my husband works as a welder. I don’t trust Boris Johnson. I’m afraid because we’ve made our home here and we want to stay.”
Life-long Labour voter Karen Ward, 52, wants to see Johnson improve the NHS.
Carer Karen says: “The NHS is a shambles. You are talking a five-week wait to see the GP. Then when the appointment day comes, you get a phone call to say it has been cancelled.
“I don’t understand why we ended up with Brexit. If it isn’t broken, don’t fix it – we were doing all right in the EU.”
But one local, who didn’t want to be named, thinks Boris and Carrie have got more in common with the folk in the close than they might like to admit.
She says: “Boris proved that he is human when he had that row with his girlfriend and the police were called.
“It’s just like living round here.”
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