‘You were the star, Lissie!’
Dad was a bit overwhelmed, I think. He and Mum had seen all my plays and everything I’d been in on television but I suppose I did have a lot of screen time in this one. And I would for another twenty-five episodes. Perhaps that was the difference. Either way, that became our Saturday night ritual. As soon as an episode finished, Mum or Dad would jump on the phone to tell me what they thought about it. Who knew my parents would become such fans of science fiction?
Brian had to slip off for a play but it didn’t matter. The phone rang off the hook all night with friends and family congratulating me. It was nice. I hoped I’d done Sarah Jane justice – I thought she deserved it.
Unfortunately, even as I watched that episode, I knew things in Sarah’s world were about to change. Viewers didn’t know it yet but Terry Dicks was off and Barry wouldn’t be far behind. But the most devastating news had just reached me: Jon had quit.
We would be looking for a new Doctor.
Chapter Six
There’s Nothing ‘Only’ About Being A Girl
I STILL REMEMBER Jon regaling me with the story. He’d never been more upbeat.
‘So, Lissie, I bowled in to see Shaun Sutton and said, “Hello, old boy, the programme’s doing well – better than ever, I hear. How about a rise?”’
Shaun was head of drama.
‘How did that go?’ I asked.
‘Shaun looked up. Didn’t smile, just said, “I’m sorry, Jon. The answer’s no.”
‘That was it, Lissie. Can you believe it? No discussion, no “we’ll consider it” or “maybe next year”. Just a big flat “no”.’
I felt for Jon, I really did.
‘So, what did you do?’
‘Well, it left me in a very awkward position. So I said, “Then, I have no alternative but to inform you that I’m leaving the show.”’
‘You didn’t!’ I gasped.
‘I certainly did.’ Jon puffed himself up as he spoke. ‘I walked out, closed the door and that was that.’
‘And how do you feel about it now, Jon?’
‘Best thing I ever did,’ he assured me. And I believed him.
Wow! The Doctor was leaving. I hadn’t seen that coming and Jon hadn’t either, I think. To be fair, he seemed content with his decision, which was great. Where it left the programme, however, I had no clue. Would they replace him? Could they replace him? And if they did, would the new Doctor want me?
Ah well, I thought. I only signed for a year. I may as well enjoy it.
* * *
Speaking of enjoying it, strange things had begun to happen to me since The Time Warrior’s transmission. As a young girl in London it’s not out of the norm to attract the odd stare or comment from men of a certain disposition but after Christmas it seemed to become more frequent, and not just from men. I felt women studying me as well. When the first young boy rushed up to me near my house the penny dropped: they were Who fans.
I’d seen the effect Jon could have on complete strangers when we were out and about but, naïvely I suppose, I never for one moment expected the same treatment. He was the Doctor. Who was I?
It turned out that for a surprising number of people I was apparently quite important.
Signing my first autograph was an amazing feeling. It’s one of those skills you practise as a child but you never expect to use on anything other than cheques. I had no idea signing sessions would become such a large part of my life later on.
Jon was amazing with fans – he never felt more comfortable. I don’t know how he did it. I love meeting new people and having conversations but, to this day, there’s something unnerving about having a conversation with someone who knows so much about you when you don’t even know their name – especially when you’ve just popped out to buy a pint of milk.
My postman noticed another change. Aside from bills, circulars and the odd bit of family correspondence, I was now receiving bundles of letters every week, forwarded from my agent. It became a point of principle to reply to each and every one. But they don’t tell you about that when you sign up.
* * *
Jon’s news was still top secret when we began work on the next serial. I thought it would be tricky to keep schtum but once you’re in the flow again the real world flits out of your head.
If Death to the Daleks had brought back familiar villains, The Monster of Peladon reintroduced an entire planet. Brian Hayles’ The Curse of Peladon had done well when it was broadcast in 1972 and so Terry and Barry asked him to conjure a sequel. The finished result, set fifty years after the original, was also intended to convey comment on the bubbling mining dispute in the UK and the growing enthusiasm for feminism.
For the sake of cost-cutting and also continuity, many of the original Peladon sets and costumes were to be used again. Not only that, Barry attempted to regroup as many of the team from the earlier production as well. I was so glad he did. After three serials where I’d felt all at sea with the director I was delighted to meet the next one. Australian Lennie Mayne had also directed the tenth-anniversary special, The Three Doctors, so he had his Who credentials. More importantly he was just so easy to get on with.
He was a small man, about my size, but he had none of the chip on the shoulder that shorter men sometimes have. Maybe that’s the Australian confidence – or perhaps he was just a nice bloke. He was such a bundle of energy, quite manic actually, and because he used to be a dancer he was always pirouetting around the studio and talking away. He had such a florid vocabulary and he was so irreverent. For one of the royal palace scenes he waited for Nina Thomas, as Queen Thalira, to get into place and then said, ‘Right, now Mum’s in the bog house sitting on the throne!’ No airs and graces with Lennie.
He loved calling ladies ‘Mum’. Don’t know why. You could always try things out with Lennie, though. He was never rushed.
‘Lennie, what about if I do this instead?’
‘Good idea, Mother, good idea!’
Plenty of others would have said ‘no’ or worse but Lennie was a real people person. You could see that in the way he looked out for his wife, the actress Frances Pidgeon. He liked to have her around and so he found her a small role as a handmaiden. He was always fussing – ‘Hello, Pidge’, ‘Come in, Pidge’, ‘Join the group, Pidge – you’re one of us, Pidge.’ He just wanted everyone to be happy.
Working with Lennie also coincided with me finally relaxing into the show. Looking back, it definitely took me the first two serials to get my bearings. I was still finding my feet, getting to know the team and doing my best to get a bead on Jon. It was in everyone’s interests if we got along off-screen as well as on and that was my mission. By the time we did Daleks I think we were close. Peladon, though, was the first time I thought, Yes, I’m part of this show. Jon and I are a team.
These relationships can take time. School Reunion was David Tennant’s third Doctor Who episode – after the Christmas Special and New Earth – and I know he was still feeling his way with the crew, the character, Billie Piper and everything else. He’s said in interviews that he didn’t really feel he owned the part until Tooth and Claw – his fourth episode (although broadcast before School Reunion).
So with Peladon everything just clicked. Obviously I got notes from Jon about my costume, but that was just him. I turned up in a jumper one day and he said, ‘Oh no! You should wear a blouse, Lissie.’ Now, I hate wearing blouses, anything with collars, really. ‘It’s quite dark in the tunnels,’ he added. ‘If you had a nice white blouse …’
‘I’d be easier to shoot!’
We had a laugh about that, which shows how our relationship had matured.
I knew Jon’s comments about my jumper weren’t personal – it was just his obsession with all things fashion. (According to Jon, he and Gerald Campion, who played Billy Bunter, had been the first Teddy Boys in London. These things were important to him.) But Jon wasn’t the only one, unfortunately. After a morning of crawling along tunnels I
received another piece of advice. ‘Lis, perhaps you might wear a bra for the actual shoot?’
For God’s sake, I thought. You can’t see anything! But, ‘OK, fine,’ I said, all teeth and smiles, and duly traipsed off to wardrobe. I counted to ten before returning, still completely bra-less. ‘Is that better?’
‘Oh much! Thanks, Lis. We don’t want to frighten the children.’
Ridiculous.
Even the soundman threw his two penn’orth in on my costume on that one, I seem to remember. I felt like saying, ‘If you think you can do better,’ but you just grin and get on with it.
As far as working and rehearsing and workshopping the script, Jon and I had never been better. For the first time it felt like we were totally in tune with each other, bouncing things back and forth so naturally. After a bit of a slow start it was really an honour to work with him so closely.
One of the things Who has always been famous for is its running – exactly the same under Russell T Davies and Steven Moffat as it ever was. As Peladon was a mining planet, a lot of our scenes seemed to involve haring up and down narrow corridors at full pelt. I remember one early scene, setting off after Jon, and he looked round at me. It was a really patrician, caring look and I’m sure anyone watching would have thought he was checking to see if Sarah Jane was OK, that she hadn’t fallen over. What they didn’t notice was him hissing, ‘For God’s sake, Lissie, slow down!’
That was hysterical. Of course, I know exactly how he feels now, having to keep up with the kids on The Sarah Jane Adventures.
Jon wasn’t the only person who struggled to keep pace with me on Peladon. It was getting near curfew time and we weren’t anywhere near ready to wrap so the pressure was on. I had to be chased down a mine by an Ice Warrior. I won’t mention his name but the actor inside was a great guy. He enjoyed being on Who and was always happy to go the extra mile. This time he nearly went too far.
Lennie gave the word – ‘Time’s short, people, let’s get this right first time’ – and off we charged, me in my heeled boots and him in a heavy monster suit with an oxygen unit on the back, like a scuba tank. We hadn’t gone far when I realised I could hear loud wheezing. He sounds like he’s in trouble. Why doesn’t he stop? I wondered.
Then I realised: he didn’t want to be the one to push us over time. The show must go on, and all that.
Right, I thought, and threw myself to the ground.
‘Sorry, everyone!’ I called, ‘I just tripped. Sorry, my fault.’
I looked behind me and the Ice Warrior was slumped over, struggling to get his helmet off. When they checked, we’d been in such a rush to get going that they’d forgotten to plumb his breathing apparatus in. He was gasping in that airtight helmet and he hadn’t said a word. That’s what Who means to people.
Although there were no outside scenes for The Monster of Peladon we still had a week’s location shoot. The only difference was that the shoot took place in another studio. And I couldn’t have been happier.
As a film buff I can tell you there are a few studios in the world that really have a history. Ealing Studios is one of those few. The Cruel Sea, The Lavender Hill Mob, so many classics were filmed there. They’ve got the big sea tank used on all those war films. The magic that has been created there! It’s one of those places where you can feel the past as you walk around. It also made a change not to be in a chalk pit or a quarry or even a dust bowl in freezing January. And, of course, it was so close to my home!
I really think Lennie achieved wonders with the mood on set. Everyone was willing to go that extra mile for him – just look at that Ice Warrior. The new rapport between Jon and me probably helped as well. We certainly tried to lead from the front. Jon was suffering quite bad back pain at the time and had to wear a corset to keep everything in place. Although Terry Walsh was always on hand to step in (although you probably shouldn’t see as much of his face and Pertwee perm-wig as you do during one fight scene), Jon still insisted on doing as many of his own stunts as possible – afterwards he’d literally have to be stretched on a human rack. A couple of chaps would grab Jon under the arms, hoist him up and wait for his spine to click back into place.
I had my moments of sacrifice, too. There was a scene where Jon and I had to leap into the pit with Aggedor, the so-called ‘monster’ of Peladon. I agreed to do the stunt myself and Terry talked me through it.
‘Now, Lis, we’ve got cushions at the bottom, perfectly safe. We can get someone else to do it, if you like, but I think you can do it easily.’
I looked down at the hole. It was only about six feet but in the darkness it seemed to go on for miles.
‘I’m not sure about this, Terry.’
‘You’ll kick yourself if you don’t.’
So like an idiot I agreed. Lennie gave the cue and off I jumped.
Terry came rushing up to me afterwards.
‘Well, did you enjoy that?’
‘No, I bloody didn’t!’
But he was right – I was glad I’d done it. Unfortunately, I’d forgotten that I’d have to do it again – and again – until Lennie was happy.
By coincidence Todd Joseph was on set that day. Agents never miss a trick, do they, and I saw him talking to Barry.
‘Half past nine and look at the energy she’s got!’ Always trying to squeeze some negotiating power out of a situation.
Afterwards I knew how Jon felt with his back because my ankles were killing me and I’m sure my hip was out of joint. Max Faulkner, who played one of the miners, said, ‘You’re walking oddly. Lie down on that table.’
I was desperate for a rest so I climbed on while he had a look.
‘Thought so,’ he said. ‘One leg is longer than the other. You’d better go and see someone.’
I didn’t do any jumps after that and I’ve had weak ankles to this day, but at the time I was just pleased to have managed the stunt. At least we got our shot. It should look pretty spectacular on-screen.
Anyone who has seen the episode knows it didn’t. It looked about as dangerous as hopping into a bath. What a waste of time – all that pain for nothing. Wait till I see that bloody Terry …
* * *
As usual there was a lot going on in the Peladon story. Some of it, perhaps, passed over one or two viewers’ heads. If I’m honest, even I might not have noticed the allusion to the then current miners’ strike if it hadn’t been pointed out to me. I mean, yes, workers on Peladon are abused and so, according to them, were the miners in the UK, and they had no choice but to strike and fight for their rights. But, you know, I had enough to do: remember your lines and don’t bump into the furniture and all that. At the end of the day, it’s a kids’ programme and it’s an adventure and that’s what I preferred to focus on. If Barry and Terry wanted to put anything else in, then that was fine.
It wasn’t just the miners’ dispute that Barry asked the writers to focus on, though. After a couple of serials building Sarah Jane up as this thoroughly modern Millie, there’s a cracking scene where the Doctor gets so frustrated by Queen Thalira’s backwards thinking that he unleashes Sarah Jane to give one of her ‘feminism’ talks. He doesn’t stay around to hear it, of course, but I get to say that unforgettable line: ‘There’s nothing “only” about being a girl, Your Majesty.’
Once again there were some marvellous older actors in the show who I adored chatting to. Rex Robinson, who played Gebek, was great. And Donald Gee (Eckersley) was another fun one to have around, always a twinkle in Donald’s eye. He got to swan about in marvellous black leather. I think he’d been in Coronation Street by then and he was doing something for kids with Bob Hoskins, because he was talking a lot about that.
Stuart Fell had me in stitches, of course, playing Alpha Centauri, the alien with a giant eye for a head and myriad arms beneath his green cape. It’s hard to keep a straight face when you’re talking to what looks like a bobbing head in a curtain. In rehearsal Stuart would just stand there, saying his lines and hopping up and down like h
e needed a wee. Hysterical. Originally he didn’t have a cape but someone said he looked like a ‘giant dick’. So they draped this shawl around him, then Lennie, I think, said, ‘Now it looks like a giant dick in a cape.’ Not my finest, hour, I think, acting with Alpha Centauri. It was like doing Romeo and Juliet with a Teletubby.
While we were having a blast, I guess Jon was going through his own turmoil. On 8 February, a Thursday, Barry authorised the press announcement that he was leaving. I remember when David Tennant made his big goodbye speech live at the TV Awards – that made headlines around the world. I don’t think it was quite such a big deal in 1974, although it didn’t stop the press door-stepping us for a couple of days on our way into White City and Acton. The question on everyone’s lips was: ‘Do you know who the next Doctor will be?’ And of course I didn’t have a clue. Jon swam through it without a care in the world. Or so it seemed.
We didn’t have to wait that long to see the true impact of Jon’s resignation on him. If Peladon had seen him attack the part with renewed vigour, his swansong, Planet of the Spiders, saw a very morose Doctor trundle into work each day. I couldn’t blame him. By then, of course, the whole world knew he was leaving. Even worse, they knew his successor – that announcement had been made a week after Jon’s farewell. And as we trudged into rehearsals at the start of March, we only had a month before the Third Doctor regenerated into the Fourth.
You can’t say the Beeb didn’t pull out all the stops for Jon’s finale, though I think Barry should take most of the credit. As producer he may have kept a tight grip on the purse strings, but as a man he was determined that his friend Jon should go out in a blaze of glory. Clearing his schedule, Barry announced that he would take the helm for Planet of the Spiders himself. And, he promised, he’d make it one for Jon to remember.
And I really think he did. Jon loved his gadgets and all the physical stuff so this story was loaded with them. I just wished I didn’t have to ‘enjoy’ them as well! But when Bagpuss jumps into a helicopter, all his friends jump in too …
Elisabeth Sladen: The Autobiography Page 15