Elisabeth Sladen: The Autobiography

by Sladen, Elisabeth

  Live and Let Die had been the big Bond movie of the previous year, full of speedboat, car and all other sorts of chases. That was definitely an influence on Terry and Barry when they came to shaping Robert Sloman’s script. In one episode there’s hardly any dialogue at all. Jon is either on the water, in the air or pounding the tarmac in an incredible pursuit sequence.

  Part of the chase had Jon haring across a lake in a speedboat. By the time he got out, he looked like the proverbial drowned rat. He was happy to go on but Barry said his hair needed attention. It had been completely matted by a combination of wind and water. So, there he sat, rollers in his hair, when a PR person appeared and said a local journalist had arrived early for her interview.

  ‘Fine,’ said Jon. ‘Bring her over.’

  People who say Jon was vain really didn’t get it, did they? And trust me, since his death I’ve heard quite a few whispers to that effect. The truth is, the vanity was all for the programme: he wanted his Doctor to look a certain way and he was very protective of that. But personal vanity? Yes, he liked to look good, but only if he was on show. Behind the scenes, or off duty, he was as laid-back as anyone. It was all about the show. Why else would he give an interview in full rollers and back corset?

  And remember, Jon was always the first one to make a joke about his nose – or his lisp. He had us all in stitches trying to get through the line, ‘Don’t struggle with the spiders, Sarah!’ In fact, I remember him moaning back on my very first day, ‘Christ, with my S’s, why did they give me someone called Sarah Jane Smith?’ So, there was no ego in that respect.

  Even so, Jon could be proprietorial at times. On one occasion Nick Courtney, on location with us, offered to drive me in Bessie back along this muddy track to the catering truck.

  Jon literally put his arm across me and said, ‘Darling, I wouldn’t advise going with the Brig.’

  So I didn’t. A minute later, Nick jumped behind the wheel and, honest to God, within moments he was nearly in the ditch. Thank you, Jon!

  Bessie wasn’t the only old favourite recalled for Jon’s farewell. Barry also found a way to include the Whomobile in the chase sequence – in its new, improved flying mode. I had to jump in as well, which was fine. Not so fine, however, was driving around in it beforehand. We were being made up outside the BBC, somewhere near Kingston. Then Jon said, ‘Come on, I’ll drive us to location.’

  So he did – right through Kingston High Street!

  In rush hour!

  If you’ve seen the car, you’ll know from the outside it looks like a silver manta ray. On the inside, however, it feels like being in a goldfish bowl on wheels. Everywhere we went people were staring and Jon was waving back. Then we hit the high street and all hell broke loose. Cars were weaving all over the place, so Jon had to take evasive action a couple of times. We couldn’t have had more close calls if he’d fitted a giant magnet on the front. It was as if every road user was doing a double-take at the same time. My heart was in my mouth because the Whomobile didn’t seem to be made of the sturdiest stuff.

  And then, inevitably, there were sirens.

  ‘I think they’re for us, Jon.’

  ‘I think you’re right.’

  A policeman came over, so Jon wound down the window.

  ‘Hello, officer, how can I be of assistance?’

  ‘Hello, Doctor,’ the policeman said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to be talking to a Time Lord. ‘I’m afraid you can’t drive this through Kingston High Street.’

  ‘But it’s got a registration plate.’

  ‘That may be so, but in my view it’s a hazard.’

  In my view it was as well, but I never mentioned it.

  Boats and cars were only half the story. The Whomobile took to the skies at some point to chase the villain’s gyro copter so there was a BBC chopper on standby to do the filming. During one lunch hour at Membury Airfield Jon couldn’t resist suggesting, ‘Come on Lissie, let’s go for a ride.’ I didn’t have time to say no; he just pulled me over to where the pilot was polishing it. Bearing in mind my Toronto flight, you’ll understand I really wasn’t happy, but Jon was so excited and I climbed in.

  Whoooosh! It was like going up in a rocket. Suddenly the ground had vanished – and so had my stomach for flying.

  ‘Isn’t this wonderful!’ Jon beamed.

  He was lucky I didn’t throw up on him there and then.

  ‘That’s the last time I go up in one of these things!’ Famous last words …

  Climbing out, the pilot warned us to mind the rotors which were still spinning. He didn’t have to tell me twice – I was almost doubled up clutching my stomach anyway so I was safe. But accidents do happen.

  The pilot of the gyro copter wasn’t so lucky. His blades were much lower than the bigger chopper’s and he got caught. He was lucky not to lose his head. As it was, the blood poured out like water from a geyser. He screamed the place down and everyone ran out to him, of course. By the time I got there I noticed our makeup girl, Deanne Turner, crouching next to him.

  ‘Oh, Deanne, aren’t you lovely, looking after him,’ I said.

  She stood up and leant into my ear.

  ‘I’m actually matching his blood against all my fake colours,’ she confessed.

  God, I thought, that’s TV for you.

  I remembered that event years later. We were filming a scene in The Sarah Jane Adventures in a wood and I’d decided not to risk running down this narrow pathway in the dark. With branches everywhere it seemed foolish to take the risk. So Katherine, my amazing stand-in, was all kitted out in my coat, boots and wig – which is a thoroughly disconcerting image to look at, I must tell you – and ready to go.

  On cue she shot off into the wood, twice as fast as I could have gone. A yard from the end, she stumbled and fell arse over head. Watching from the sidelines were me, Stuart our costume designer, and Emma on makeup. As soon as Katherine went down we all leapt up together, hands in mouths like the three brass monkeys.

  ‘Katie!’ I screamed.

  ‘Jacket!’ cried Stuart.

  ‘Wig!’ went Emma.

  It just shows you …

  * * *

  We packed a lot into that week. Tidmarsh Manor served as a monastery, Mortimer railway station was where I joined the action answering Mike Yates’ call, while Le Marchant barracks in Devizes and the River Severn also provided various location opportunities. Before we headed back to the Acton Hilton as normal, Jon announced a little surprise. By way of a thank you to everyone on the team and to give his further career a leg-up, he was throwing a drinks party at his house in Castelnau, near Barnes. I’d never been before and I was expecting it to be grand but this place was something else, absolutely stunning. I don’t know how much of it was down to Jon or whether his wife, Ingeborg, was responsible, but it really was beautiful. I know who the cook in the family was, though, and Ingeborg put on an impressive spread. Jon was on drinks duty that night and he could have done with one or two himself because he seemed on edge. As soon as I stepped in, he fell on me like a long-lost brother and pressed a glass into my hand. ‘There you go, Lissie, enjoy that.’ God, it was the strongest vodka and tonic I have ever tasted in my life. The next day at North Acton he said, ‘Lissie, were you all right last night? You were awfully relaxed.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Jon, after that drink I wasn’t relaxed – I was comatose!’

  It really was a nice touch to have Barry directing Jon’s final episode. They had a natural understanding and this time, more than ever, Barry was inclined to humour more of his star’s script suggestions. To be honest, though, there wasn’t much Jon could add to a story heavily weighted in his favour. Venusian aikido, plenty of running, lots of saving-the-day action; they’d even brought back the Brig and his UNIT team for a final hurrah. Barry wanted all Jon’s friends to be around him when the moment to say goodbye came.

  In the circumstances I was really pleased that Sarah Jane had such a dominant role, especially in the
earlier episodes. Called by Yates to investigate the mysterious Buddhist retreat – a personal interest of Barry’s – she stumbles upon the heart of the Doctor’s last adventure. As another fillip for Jon, Barry cast an old friend in the role of Cho-je – Kevin Lindsay, the first-ever Sontaran. Looking back, I’m not sure quite how we got away with converting Kevin into an oriental by sticking a few bits of Sellotape on his eyebrows, but standards were different in those days. It was nice to see him, though. Even better, from a personal point of view, I was so happy that my old Clapham landlord Terry Lodge got to play Moss. I had nothing to do with the casting but if I could have put in a word, I would. It was so nice to chat about our old Manchester days in the breaks and reminisce about how he used to go over Pinter text with me. So much had happened since then, it seemed like a lifetime ago.

  * * *

  Since the start of the year all the buzz around the BBC had been ‘Who will be the next Doctor Who?’ When the announcement of Jon’s retirement went public that speculation burst into overdrive. At one point every Tom, Dick and Harry seemed to be in the running. I tried to keep on top of developments because obviously it affected me more than most, but work on Peladon meant my information was occasionally behind the times. And obviously the lid was being kept very tight on this particular secret.

  As I recall, Tommy Steele was seriously mentioned at one point. And Carry On’s Jim Dale – it would have been nice to make him apologise for nearly running me over all those years ago! Richard Hearne was another one. He was famous at the time for comedy character Mr Pastry but, so the story goes, he wanted to play the Doctor in the same style. Can you imagine? Fortunately, Barry couldn’t and they continued the search. Years later I met Ron Moody, the original Fagin, in Los Angeles. Ron had worked with Brian in a TV play called Village Hall so he came straight out with it. ‘They offered me the part,’ he said. ‘They offered me it after Troughton and after Pertwee and each time I said no.’ He looked me straight in the eye.

  ‘Biggest mistake of my life.’

  Then one day Barry bounded over, full of energy. I remember exactly the spot where I was standing.

  ‘We have got the most perfect Doctor for you, Lis. Have you heard of Tom Baker?’

  The name rang a bell but I couldn’t place it.

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘I don’t think so.’

  Barry wasn’t fazed in the slightest.

  ‘Well, you might have seen him in–’

  And then it came to me.

  ‘Rasputin! Yes, I do know him. Wonderful. Wonderful!’

  Barry vanished as suddenly as he’d arrived – off to spread the news further, probably. And I was left to ponder my future with this strange wide-eyed actor with the slightly beak-faced stare. Interesting, I thought, very, very interesting.

  I don’t know how Jon took the news – I presume he was told at some point before the press announcement but I never felt comfortable discussing it with him. What I can say is that I wasn’t looking forward to our first days of studio shooting. I don’t know if it was intentional, to get it out of the way, or whether the schedule just worked out that way, but out of a six-episode show, Jon’s regeneration scene with his successor was to be filmed in the first batch.

  The day arrived and we all pitched up as usual. Hair, costume, bit of slap every now and then as you went along – the same old pattern. Everyone tried to pretend nothing out of the ordinary was going on, which was so hard because we all knew things would never be the same again. This was the day I had to say goodbye to my Doctor. I was trembling at the prospect; I can’t imagine how he must have been feeling.

  Those moments of Jon lying there in the lab will stay with me. It was so poignant. In a way I’d sort of delivered my elegy during Peladon when I thought he’d died then: ‘I still can’t believe it – I can’t believe that he’s dead. You see, he was the most alive person I ever met!’ This time, of course, it was Jon who uttered the immortal lines: ‘A tear, Sarah Jane?’ If I had a pound for every time those words are quoted back to me. (Although it’s not the most common quote. I’ll let you guess what that is.)

  There were no real tears, certainly not from Jon. In fact, there was no emotion at all. One minute I was hunched over his body, sobbing at the Doctor’s death, then as soon as we heard ‘Cut!’ he leapt to his feet, nearly knocking me over. And he did so completely wordlessly, just pulled himself up, dusted his clothes down, then strolled off. It was quite eerie. A minute later another figure was lying down to take his place: Tom Baker had arrived.

  The whole regeneration was such a cold affair. Tom simply dashed in and back out again because he was already rehearsing for his debut story. And Jon – well, I don’t know what was going through his mind, exactly, except that he refused to be in the same room with his successor. In fact they didn’t exchange a single, solitary word. A pity, I thought, a very great pity.

  After that the mood back at Acton was very different. The penny had finally dropped, I think. Jon was leaving – and the show was carrying on. I know later on David found handing over to Matt Smith harder than he’d possibly imagined. From star to history in a matter of seconds; it’s a phenomenal fall. No other show does this to an actor.

  And Jon, of course, with every day that passed, was wishing he could jump into the TARDIS for real and turn back the clocks. Yes, he was getting tired of the physical stresses on his body; yes, he could do without the fights with directors and yes, he honestly believed he deserved more money, but were those things worth giving up his beloved Who for? The answer, he had realised with a sickening thump, was no. By the time he admitted it to himself, though, it was too late.

  ‘Are you all right, Jon?’ I asked as he arrived at Acton the morning after regenerating.

  ‘Don’t you worry about me. I’m fine.’

  But he didn’t look fine. In fact, the first chance he got, he dragged a table and chair over to the far end of our massive rehearsal room, then methodically began going through his fan mail. Hundreds of letters and cards, and one by one he replied to them all. He still joined us for tea breaks and lunch, he wasn’t avoiding anyone, but whenever the Doctor wasn’t required for a scene, he threw himself back into his paperwork. I don’t know if he wanted to remind himself how popular he was, or whether he just needed to get all Who correspondence out of the way by the time he left – he probably wanted a clean break.

  It was so sad to watch and it must have been killing him not to be involved in what we were all doing as well. We were so used to Jon buzzing around, encouraging or giving notes or saying, ‘Maybe try it like this …’ even when he wasn’t in a scene. He could be so annoying, I admit, but Jon was also our chief cheerleader. Without him it all felt a bit empty.

  * * *

  It’s strange how things work out. A couple of days after the crushing low of recording his own death scene while still having to concentrate on the rest of the serial, Jon was thrown a nice little fillip. The BBC had licensed a Doctor Who exhibition at Blackpool and they wanted Jon and his trusty companion to open it.

  It really couldn’t have come at a better time.

  I can’t say I was terribly thrilled at the prospect because it promised to be such a whistle-stop visit. There wouldn’t even be a chance to call in on Mum and Dad, even though they were so close. Jon promised it would all be worthwhile. ‘It will blow your mind, Lissie, trust me.’

  Whether he genuinely expected the event to be that exciting or he was relieved to be out of the same building where Tom was rehearsing, I couldn’t say – I was just happy to see him smiling again.

  We had a meal in a seafront hotel with some of the BBC suits, then turned in. The next morning at breakfast Jon was all aflush. Apparently he’d been getting ready for bed, stripping in the moonlight, when all of a sudden there was this tremendous roar. A lamp at the back of the room had illuminated his little striptease routine for all and sundry below.

  ‘I looked out the window and there’s a hundred people cheering!’


  I thought he must have been exaggerating but my mind was changed the second we stepped out of the hotel. I’ve never seen so many people in my life – and they were all screaming for Jon. I was literally speechless, so stunned I couldn’t move. If Jon hadn’t put an arm around me to guide me towards the waiting Bessie I think I’d still be standing there now.

  As we scrambled into the old yellow car it dawned on me that Jon had been expecting this. After so many years as the Doctor he must have been used to it but I’d never seen anything like it. I just began to get my bearings and then I heard someone shout, ‘I love you, Sarah Jane!’ and I crumbled again.

  They love me? I certainly hadn’t expected that.

  The next half an hour was the most surreal of my life. Somehow Jon negotiated Bessie out of the car park without running anyone over and we drove at a snail’s pace along the promenade. You couldn’t see an inch of pavement anywhere. People were lined five deep along the route, all waving and cheering, calling out their appreciation – and, yes, love! – for us. It was like the Queen’s Coronation – and we were only off the telly!

  I was so glad for Jon; this is how I wanted him to remember Who. And this is how I wanted to remember him. Adored by thousands, playing to the gallery, living and breathing Doctor Who. Not squirrelled away in a rehearsal room with just his post for company.

  I was genuinely amazed to be treated so warmly by the fans. When I joined the show I’d felt so conscious of replacing Katy. In a way I half expected them to be calling her name, not mine. But Who fans are the best in the world: if you’re good to them, they’re magnificent to you. Peladon had just started airing by then and I suppose they’d had fourteen or fifteen episodes to get used to me.

  I must be doing something right.

  A lot of the exhibition itself didn’t mean much to me. The Daleks I recognised, of course, and Exxilons, but I think there were plenty of exhibits from before my time. If Jon didn’t recognise all of them you would never have guessed – ‘Look at this, Lissie’, ‘See what this gadget does’. He was so masterful at interaction, all the while oblivious to the barrage of camera flashes in our faces. I’d never seen a person command so many people with such ease. Never seen him happier, in fact.