Elisabeth Sladen: The Autobiography

by Sladen, Elisabeth

  And, I suddenly realised, I’ll never see him this happy again.

  * * *

  It would have been the humane thing to have ended Jon’s involvement in Blackpool, let him go out on a high, but we had work to do. Even with Barry in charge, those final days on Spiders seemed to drag on forever.

  And then suddenly, on 1 May in Studio 6, we were done. There was a party, of course, and I seem to remember a cake with Jon’s face on it. But I couldn’t enjoy it (the party, not the cake!) – I had to get in a car for Hereford where the next serial had already begun shooting. I felt such a fraud bolting out like that but it couldn’t be helped. Jon’s association with the show may have ended but mine was continuing as normal.

  It was just continuing with a different Doctor.

  Chapter Seven

  What If A Snake Slides Up My Skirt?

  TOM BAKER was once asked: ‘Why did you get on so well with Elisabeth Sladen?’ He gave the interviewer one of his transfixing stares and then said, ‘That’s easy – she laughed at my jokes.’

  Who wouldn’t laugh at Tom’s jokes? He’s one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. Anyone who has seen him regale a convention with tales of OAP shopping adventures and the like knows he can spin comedy gold out of any subject. Tom has such an energy, a genuine impish delight in the absurd; always playful, always alert to the possibility of a punchline – a treasure. I’m so glad he’s known to a whole new generation now, thanks to Little Britain. As he says, ‘I’m in that lucky position of the people who liked me as a child now offering me work.’ And, as he also says, ‘No one does Tom Baker quite as well as me.’

  But I didn’t know any of this as my car hurtled down the roads towards Worcester that night in May 1974. I’d met Tom briefly at Acton, just hellos and handshakes at that stage, because he was hard at work on his Doctor’s character upstairs with new producer Philip Hinchcliffe and I was flat out on Spiders, but I remember he was big, very big, and had piercing eyes that seemed to be constantly scanning for something in your face when you spoke to him, and there was that mellifluous, rich voice. But, honestly, our time together had been so brief. Anyone can turn on the charm for a meet-and-greet – many an unpleasant actor has mastered that little trick. The proof of the pudding, I decided between snatches of sleep in the car, would be in the meeting.

  I’ve always had a fairly laissez-faire attitude to employment. Or maybe that should be que sera, sera. I’ve never worried terribly about the next job and I’ve always been all right. So as the end of my contract with the Beeb approached, I took it in my stride. Change was in the air, you could almost taste it. Jon was leaving, UNIT was being downplayed to give the new Doctor breathing space, Terry Dicks was off and, of course, Barry Letts was about to produce his last serial. Philip Hinchcliffe, who had been shadowing Barry for quite a while, would obviously want to put his own stamp on the series when he officially took over in the autumn. If he decided the incoming Doctor deserved a fresh companion, then so be it. I wouldn’t take it personally. I’d had a good year. A tiring one, definitely. And I’d learned a lot about people in that time. But it had been fun and I was confident I’d done some good work. Damn it, I was proud of Sarah Jane Smith.

  Fortunately for me, so was everyone else. Even though Barry was handing over the reins, I think he had a lot of influence with the new production team. His opinion – very sensibly, I think – was that audiences are comfortable with continuity. It was one thing giving them a new Doctor; replacing his companion as well might be a step too far.

  Actually I think audiences are far more forgiving than that (look at Matt Smith and Karen Gillan as the Eleventh Doctor and Amy Pond). The truth was Barry was as proud as I was of Sarah Jane. Most importantly, from the compliments and comments I’d been fed throughout the year, I know he was very content with the direction I’d been taking her. So, when a new contract for another twenty-six shows was presented on 16 April 1974, I duly signed.

  Bearing in mind my value to the show as the cement binding the Third and Fourth Doctors – on more than one occasion I heard Barry say, not for my benefit at all, ‘We can’t do without Lis’ – Todd Joseph went into negotiations on my behalf in bullish mood. ‘Without my client your show will struggle this season’, ‘Lis is already such a popular character – did you see the turnout at Blackpool?’ – he said all the right things, I’m sure. But he was up against the people who had let their star leave rather than even consider a nominal raise. In the end, I think Todd did well to scrape a £5 a week increase, but it scarred him.

  ‘Seriously, Lis, it’s like getting blood out of a stone.’

  Yet when I saw Barry later that day he looked as if he was still in shock.

  ‘Your agent drives a hard bargain, Lis.’ He was being deadly serious!

  While I hadn’t been replaced, I had been added to. In Barry’s initial casting meetings with Robert Holmes and Terry, they had pretty much settled on going for another older actor as the Doctor – no names at that stage, but that was the feeling. The dilemma facing them, however, was that Jon’s gung-ho energy and hands-on style was very popular with viewers. An older actor might not necessarily want to – or indeed be able to – pull that off. The solution was to introduce a younger male sidekick who could take care of the fisticuffs. In the end, of course, they went with Tom who was more than capable of handling himself. By then, though, they’d already met and liked Ian Marter. So, for the forthcoming series, the TARDIS would have one extra passenger.

  I didn’t appreciate it at the time, but this was actually a throwback to the Sixties. William Hartnell’s Doctor had surrounded himself with friends and family in Susan, Barbara and Ian (Carole Ann Ford, Jacqueline Hill and William Russell), and so it continued throughout the decade. As far as long-standing Who fans were concerned, Ian and I were merely our (re)generation’s Maureen O’Brien and Peter Purves.

  I suppose I should have worried my screen time might be cut with someone else there to ask questions for the audience, but it didn’t actually occur to me. I was pretty sure they wouldn’t be asking Ian to scream ‘Doctor!’ every five minutes.

  It was such a rush down to Worcester that I was still in my costume when I was bundled into the car. We arrived at 2 a.m. Call time was four hours later and I didn’t have time to worry about my co-stars.

  The new serial, Robot, was written by Terry Dicks as his parting gift to the show – or vice versa. It took the serial number 4A, which I assumed denoted the Fourth Doctor. Rather fittingly, I felt, Planet of the Spiders’ production code had been ‘ZZZ’ – the end of the alphabet and the end of the line for Jon and so many others. The director this time was Chris Barry, who had worked with Jon on The Mutants. They used to call Chris the ‘Mad Monk’ – I’ve no idea why. But later he was so kind to Sadie when we were all in Chicago in 1993, and I still get Christmas cards from him and his wife Venice.

  That friendship had yet to bloom, however, when I strolled on to set on 2 May. In my first scene Sarah Jane had to climb over a wall. I was so tired after the big finish on Spiders and then the journey. We did the scene and I was running, not looking, and somehow found the energy to scramble over the wall. Panting on the other side, I was actually pretty pleased with it. So was Chris – at first.

  ‘That’s awfully good, Lis,’ he called over. ‘But next time could I have your face in camera and not your bum!’

  By the time I’d finished I noticed my co-stars had arrived on set. I had no expectations really – to be honest, I was too shattered to think much at all. When I caught a glimpse of Ian and Tom, leaning against a building and just chatting, my mood lifted. They barely knew each other and yet there they were just getting on. No airs, no graces, no coterie milling around them – just two actors, two men, chewing the fat. In that one snapshot I knew I was going to enjoy working with them.

  Whereas Jon had always craved company, Tom was content to do his own thing. His Doctor didn’t require a companion to fawn on his every utterance and Tom didn�
��t expect that from me either, and even though he was the star, it was his name in the opening credits. Watching him so at ease with Ian I realised, I don’t have to walk over and doff my cap with this one. I don’t have to pay my respects. Don’t get me wrong, all actors are vain in a way – Tom’s vanity was just different to Jon’s. Tom loves taking the floor, holding court on his own: the more people watching, the better. Jon preferred his audiences closer to him, that was all – just as I’d known from his first spectacular entrance at North Acton during my audition. It made you feel like you were at his beck and call, whereas Tom gave everyone that little bit of space.

  Another positive was that the problem I’d faced joining The Time Warrior, of being an ingénue in an established set-up, had disappeared. Now I was the old hand while Tom and Ian were the new boys feeling their way around. You’d never guess to look at him but Tom suffered terribly from nerves – he got these really gripey stomach aches, coincidentally just before filming each scene. So he had that to contend with every day, and no time left to be concerned with what I was doing. I responded to that. It was like turning up for the first day at a new school – you can reinvent yourself; be whoever you like.

  In a way, of course, that’s exactly what each new actor gets to do with the Doctor. I know Tom had worked very closely with Jim Acheson on getting the right look. They were going for something a bit more eccentric, closer to Pat Troughton than Jon’s interpretation. More alien, if you like. (This was going on while we were working on Spiders, so of course Jim passed down all these nuggets of gossip as they went along!) Eventually they settled on the coat, the hat and, of course, the oversized scarf. That came about when Jim sent a bag of wool to a knitter called Begonia Pope – and she used the entire amount! It was Tom who said, ‘No, let’s keep it. I can have fun with that.’ Typical Tom. And the rest is history.

  I remember shooting that scene in TV Centre when Tom nips into the TARDIS a few times to trial various looks. He had everyone in hysterics, especially with the Viking outfit. You knew what he was wearing before the cameras started rolling, yet the second he stepped out of those blue doors, sparks flew. It was so damn good I thought, Bloody hell, we’ve got a hell of an actor on our hands here! I was going to have to seriously up my game or get left behind.

  So, in a way, the arrival of a new Doctor actually gave me the freedom to regenerate Sarah Jane as well. If someone comes in who’s the same person but is actually totally different, they do things differently and that in turn makes you react differently. So I discovered all sorts of new things I could do; it gave me a new lease of life and allowed me to expand. I loved that. I don’t know why, but as welcome as they made me during my first year, I always felt on trial, but no longer. Isn’t that funny?

  Even the introduction of a new companion couldn’t dampen my renewed confidence. I thought Ian was tremendous. He often gets overlooked, but stuffy naval doctor Harry Sullivan is a very difficult part to play. Modern audiences probably can’t relate to him. He’s like a character from The Cruel Sea. Men like that talk in a certain way, act in a certain way, wear the uniform with such pride. I think Ian was spot-on for that – he never overdid it.

  Harry also took the brunt of the Doctor’s venom on occasions. In Revenge of the Cybermen Tom delights in yelling, ‘Harry Sullivan is an imbecile!’ And in The Ark in Space he has another little dig when he says, ‘My doctorate is purely honorary and Harry here is only qualified to work on sailors.’ So from that point of view he got to do a lot of the things that Sarah Jane would otherwise have been lumbered with.

  In the car down to Worcester I’d been looking forward to our summer break. Eight months of solid shooting without pause can really take its toll – I wished I could have knocked it on the head after Spiders then started again, fresh, with Tom in the autumn. I didn’t want to be the tired one while everyone else looked so perky and up for anything.

  As soon as I arrived all those cobwebs were pretty much blown away, though. There was such a buzz on set from working with the show’s first new Doctor in five years that any end-of-term malaise was simply swept away. By just being there Tom had given us all a shot in the arm.

  There is always such a lot riding on the new Doctor’s first appearance, of course. Will he be liked? Will he live up to billing? David Tennant had to follow Chris Eccleston, which must have been terrifying. Then, of course, Matt Smith has had to follow David, arguably the most successful Doctor in history. As good as Tom was going to be, nobody really knew how he would be received. Wisely, Barry and Robert Holmes decided to pack his debut with some Who staples. Apart from me on the acting side there was a return for the Brig and Sergeant Benton; they also brought back Bessie. I thought the car would always be associated with Jon but Tom immediately made it his own. The way he clambered all over it like a Whipsnade monkey was uniquely him, right from the start. And the message to viewers was clear: same, but very, very different.

  Location shoots can seem a little detached from reality. There’s a real Dunkirk spirit in the air: you’re all away from home, you’re stuck together for a few days so you might as well get on with each other as best you can. Any negative opinions or arguments could wait until we got back to London and the comfort zone of the rehearsal rooms. That’s how Jon used to be. Perfectly charming when you’re halfway across the country, but a royal pain in the backside, on occasion, when you’re locked in Acton for a week. So, as lovely as it had been so far, the real nature of Tom was yet to be seen.

  Or so I thought. In the event he was exactly the same playful, powerful, kindly presence. And, most importantly, he was happy working together as an ensemble. Even though he was the star, he never needed to establish himself as the leader.

  The only hitches, in fact, came at Television Centre. The 1970s were littered with industrial action from one quarter or another. TV certainly wasn’t immune. Our recording slots on Robot were really hit when the scene-shifters laid down tools. It sounds incredible, but these were the only guys who were permitted to move things on set. If they didn’t do it, no one else was allowed to either. One whole day was scrapped, I recall, and on the other we had to shoot around a step ladder that had been left out.

  Honestly, I’m an Equity stalwart, but this was a joke. We were all aware of ten o’clock getting ever closer and one scene just could not be finished without moving a chair – which, of course, we were not allowed to do or the rest of the crew would down tools in sympathy.

  Chris was pulling his hair out at this stage and I could see Barry was ready to throttle someone. Anyone would be with that deadline hanging over you and both hands tied behind your back. So I wandered over to the chair I was supposed to sit on. It was about a foot out of place. Not much on paper but with the camera angles and lights, it may as well have been a mile. This is ridiculous, I thought. After checking all the other crew members were otherwise engaged, I suffered a sudden fit of coughing and fell theatrically back into the chair.

  When I stood up it was miraculously on its mark and ready to shoot.

  ‘I think we’re set to go over here, Chris.’

  You don’t often see someone do a double-take in real life, but he did then.

  ‘So we are. Positions, everyone!’

  The games we had to play …

  * * *

  No sooner had we wound down for summer than new scripts arrived, it seemed. The next serial scheduled for broadcast was The Ark in Space, but the first production of Season Twelve would be The Sontaran Experiment. For Robert Holmes’ first full season as script editor it made sense for him to revisit the race he had invented – especially if, as instructed, writers Bob Baker and Dave Martin adhered to the ‘one Sontaran only’ edict, which meant they could economise by using the same suit made for The Time Warrior. Money was very much an issue. Rather than have another six-parter, which Robert disliked as a format, he had decided to investigate having two serials of two and four parts. The latter would be shot entirely in the studio. Every shot of the forme
r, however, would be filmed outdoors.

  After a scout for a suitable West Country location failed, recharged after the break, we all jumped on the bus and headed down to Dartmoor. It was super to see everyone again. Tom was raring to go. I imagine Robot had felt like a false start – just as The Time Warrior had for me after the gap before Dinosaurs. Now he was fully fired up and bursting with fresh ideas for his character – never a dull moment with Tom, even then.

  As well as Tom and Ian, it was also nice to see Kevin Lindsay back. Even though he was playing a different Sontaran this time – Styre, not Linx – he’d done such a sterling job on The Time Warrior that he was the only actor considered. Unfortunately he wasn’t in the best of health and requested a lighter suit, which was duly created. So much for Robert’s money-saving idea …

  I don’t know what weather we were expecting on 26 September, but I do know that no one was dressed for it. Just staying warm and dry between takes was impossible so Philip Hinchcliffe sent us all down to the local chandlers to choose waterproofs and Wellingtons. The only things in my size were completely bright yellow: a hood, yellow bottoms, yellow top and yellow wellies. I looked like a giant canary – but at least I was dry.

  For shooting, though, I was expected to wear a skirt and jumper and just hope for the best. Fine, I thought, it’s only for a few days. Then I noticed a line in the script: ‘Sarah Jane falls in the foliage’. I looked at the long grass all around and thought, No bloody way! What if a snake slides up my skirt?

  I was head-to-toe in my Big Bird gear at the time, so I said, ‘Wouldn’t it make a spectacular shot if I was rolling around the grass in this yellow outfit?’

  And do you know what? They went for it! So I got to spend the rest of the shoot in my sou’wester and wellies.