Elisabeth Sladen: The Autobiography

by Sladen, Elisabeth

  Elisabeth Sladen: The Autobiography

  Sladen, Elisabeth

  Acknowledgements

  There are so many people to thank from us as a family as well as on Mum’s behalf.

  Top of the list is Pat and the Davis family for being there through everything and for being the best friend Mum could have wished for.

  Also Andrew Beech, for being the original Sladen roadie; Alan Langley for conventions and beyond; Roger Carey Associates; and the whole Sarah Jane Adventures team – with special mention to Anj, Danny, Tom, Julie Gardner, Phil Collinson, the gorgeous Nikki Wilson, Phil Ford, Brian Minchin, Matthew Bouch, Emma Bailey, Stewart Meachem, Gary Russell, Graeme Harper, Joss Agnew, Ashley Way, Michael Kerrigan, Charles Martin, Alice Troughton, all the wonderful writers and the very hard-working crew! Not forgetting everyone in the new Doctor Who team, particularly Ed Russell for his amazing feat …

  Very special mention to the late Barry Letts who was much loved and who, of course, created Sarah Jane, and also to the much loved and cherished Russell T Davies for bringing Sarah Jane out of her attic.

  Friends past and present, especially Liz and the Bowyers, Jane and Dave, the Lonnens, the Badgers, the Plumleys, the Benthams, Barbara and Chris and all those unmentioned but who know who you are.

  A very special mention to Sam Harrison and everyone at Aurum Press, and Jeff Hudson, Mum’s co-writer, for all their hours and dedication in creating a fitting tribute and a great read.

  A huge thank you to all the children, young and old, who loved watching Mum and who have shared their thoughts and best wishes with us.

  Finally, I’d like to thank my Mum, Elisabeth Miller – not Sladen – who will not be shared with anyone and whom I miss and love very much.

  Sadie Miller

  London, September 2011

  Contents

  Title Page

  Acknowledgements

  Foreword It Was Always The Doctor And Sarah

  Prologue I Wouldn’t Have Missed It For The World

  One ‘S’ Is For ‘Star’

  Two Here She Comes, Sarah Heartburn

  Three How Do You Keep Your Shoes So White?

  Four What Would You Like To Drink, Katy?

  Five O.O.B., Sladen?

  Six There’s Nothing ‘Only’ About Being A Girl

  Seven What If A Snake Slides Up My Skirt?

  Eight Tom, I Don’t Need A Coat!

  Nine I Thought You Were Doing A Doctor

  Ten Over Here, Cloth-Eyes!

  Eleven Eldrad Must Live!

  Twelve Bippetyboo, Bippetyboo

  Thirteen Affirmative, Mistress!

  Fourteen Think Of The Fans

  Fifteen Count Me In

  Sixteen That’s The Last I’ll Be Hearing From Them

  Seventeen In Case The Buggers Change The Locks

  Epilogue Who On Earth Would Want To Read About Me?

  Copyright

  Foreword

  It Was Always The Doctor And Sarah

  2005. My first day on a new job.

  A long table scattered with scripts, water bottles and paper name plates stretched the whole length of the room. What felt like hundreds of people milled around expectantly, chatting, checking BlackBerries, casting sideways glances as I tried to keep breathing and affect an air of insouciant calm. I took my place in front of my little paper sign and glanced around the table. And there, just across from me and down to my left, a face from my childhood leapt out from among the throng.

  Sarah Jane Smith was quietly leafing through a script and composing herself for the afternoon ahead. Perhaps she was sipping a glass of water, maybe chatting to her neighbour, I don’t remember now – all I remember is the sense that in that moment someone familiar, someone comforting and someone slightly magical had come to make sure everything was going to be all right.

  If Sarah was here, there was nothing to worry about. Later that afternoon she would be calling me Doctor. The little eight-year-old in my head (who was frankly reeling at the fact that I was in that room at all) was soothed, and of course thrilled, that the Doctor’s one true assistant was there to look out for him.

  Of course later I would get to know Lis and realise she was just as nervous as me that day, but in that moment she represented all that made me want the job in the first place. It was her voice that transported me. In one line she catapulted me back to Saturday tea times, the little catch in her voice as she confronted the latest intergalactic horror. The jeopardy was always palpable; everything seemed so real, almost raw. Everything Sarah did was alive and true. Lis’s absolute conviction in playing that role brought the worlds of Doctor Who to vivid, irrefutable life. There was no danger that a cheap set or a less than convincing rubber mask would puncture the magic when Lis was there, believing in everything around her with such passionate certitude.

  And here she was, just the same: the same conviction, the same passion for it. She was utterly consummate. And of course, she looked the same. Everybody would say it, but Elisabeth Sladen never seemed to age, either in looks or spirit. As an actor you’re not supposed to get star-struck; it isn’t the done thing to be in awe of someone you are working with. It wouldn’t be very helpful if you couldn’t look your co-star in the eye when you’re supposed to be playing their boss, or their lover. It’s a professional necessity that you can at least pretend to be easy in the company of your colleagues. I would have to admit to a handful of instances where such professionalism has failed me though, and that afternoon, when I finally met Lis, was one of them.

  Reading through the script was easy. I was doing scenes with Sarah Jane Smith, I’d played them out a million times in the playground as a kid, but actually meeting Elisabeth Sladen, who used to be on posters on my bedroom wall, and having to talk to her as an adult. It was too much. Except, of course, she was everything I could hope she would be. Charming, diffident, conscientious, giggly, determined, straightforward, a little crazy and enormously warm. She inspired absolute devotion in everyone who worked with her. Through her largesse and openness I very quickly moved from adoring fan to genuine devotee. I would quiz her for stories about Jon Pertwee and Tom Baker, and after a while she’d oblige, but always with absolute grace and generosity. She would never bore anyone with actorly anecdotes – she had way too much class – but if you could tease some out of her, they were always delicious.

  That day around that long conference table was the beginning of a fantastic journey for me. For Lis it was the continuation of a much longer one (albeit the beginning of a glorious new chapter for Sarah Jane Smith). Those scenes in the episode ‘School Reunion’ where the Doctor sees Sarah again after all that time were some of the most thrilling I had on Doctor Who. It was the realisation of a childhood fantasy I never imagined I would entertain. It could only have been with Elisabeth. It was always the Doctor and Sarah.

  I loved my time on Doctor Who. I had the huge privilege of working with a host of remarkable, gifted and often highly prestigious actors. My own travelling companions – Billie, Freema and Catherine – were second to none, but the experience just wouldn’t have been the same if my TARDIS hadn’t been graced by the lady who lit up my childhood and helped me fall in love with it all in the first place.

  As a child I was delighted to know Sarah Jane Smith.

  As an adult I was privileged to know Elisabeth Sladen.

  David Tennant

  September 2011

  Prologue

  I Wouldn’t Have Missed It For The World

  IT SHOULD have been the happiest day of my life.

  Sweeping up to the front door in a vintage white Rolls, a vision in ivory, from the flower in my hair to the heels
on my feet; this was the moment I’d been waiting for all my life.

  I entered the hall and saw him waiting: the man of my dreams. I stared into his eyes and the world melted away. Nothing else mattered. Not our guests – neighbours, an old editor, my hairdresser and accountant – or my trusty dog hidden under the table. Not even my son, who had given me away. Those people were my past. My future was standing next to me. In a few minutes it would all be over and we would be together. Forever.

  Finally, the wedding music stopped and the ceremony began. The registrar’s words drifted past like clouds; she could have been saying anything. I wished she’d hurry up.

  Just a few more seconds …

  The formalities continued: ‘If any person can show just cause or impediment why they may not be joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.’ Nearly there, I thought, just a few more moments.

  And then the skinny man in the blue suit ruined everything with four simple words.

  ‘Stop this wedding – now!’

  * * *

  ‘And cut!’

  Thank God for that. I could finally breathe. A prop it might have been, but my beautiful frock was as uncompromisingly tight as a real wedding dress. After all, no one wants to look anything short of their best on their special day – even if it is only make believe.

  It was May 2009. We were shooting The Wedding of Sarah Jane Smith and the skinny man in the blue suit, none other than David Tennant, had just blown the doors off our show. It was an incredible entrance, so passionate, so electric and so above and beyond anything we might have expected considering he was coming to us direct from filming his last moments as the Tenth Doctor. You knew he could smell the freedom, almost touch the fresh pastures. But first … Seriously, no one on The Sarah Jane Adventures would have been surprised if he’d turned in a more low-key performance. To be honest, we were just grateful he’d actually turned up at all. But David – and the Doctor – always delivers (even when he almost certainly didn’t want to be there, but more of that later).

  Back in my trailer, after an amazing first day with our guest star, I had to pinch myself. Was it really more than thirty years since I had first stepped into the TARDIS – and into the living rooms of millions of viewers? It seemed like yesterday, but that’s time travel for you. In fact, even though I’d said goodbye to relative dimensions in space in 1976, my character, Sarah Jane Smith, seemed to have lived on in the memories and hearts of so many fans. I don’t know why she was so popular, but the letters from new generations of audiences never dried up, not when I left Doctor Who, not even when the show was finally taken off air in 1989. People always cared about Sarah, and no one more so than the wonderful Russell T Davies, who not only brought her back in 2006 but also created an entire show for her.

  My show.

  And here was David Tennant starring in it. You really do have to check it’s not a dream sometimes. I wasn’t in David’s show. He was in mine. Mine! The Sarah Jane Adventures, for goodness’ sake.

  At the point Russell had rung to ask if I’d return for David’s first series, I was actually retired. I had certainly left the Doctor long behind, especially so far as television was concerned. But Russell wanted me back and, as soon as I’d spent one moment in his company and experienced his enthusiasm and – let’s face it – his genius, I wanted me to come back as well.

  And here we were, three years later. Little Sarah Jane Smith, wide-eyed, obstreperous Sarah Jane Smith had gone from pretending to be her Aunt Lavinia – RIP, Auntie – to leading her own band of junior alien-battlers – and topping the viewing figures for BBC1’s children’s programming in the process. Who saw that coming when I was shuffle-step-changing as a teenage dancer? Who saw that around the corner when I was sweeping the stage at the Liverpool Playhouse in the hope of winning a line or two? Or when I was the non-speaking attendant in Twelfth Night, the figure of Alan Ayckbourn’s mocking in Scarborough, or Elsie Tanner’s whipping girl in Coronation Street? Who looked at young Lis Sladen, starving and cold in Clapham in the early 1970s, and predicted the fever pitch that would accompany her appearances at conventions the world over so many decades later?

  Doctor Who has given me so much. Not just me, in fact. International adoration of Sarah Jane and the show has taken me and my family all over the world. Like a lot of wonderful actors, my husband, Brian Miller, has appeared in Doctor Who several times (as well as in The Sarah Jane Adventures) – no thanks to me, mind – while Sadie, our daughter, also starred with me in the Sarah Jane Smith audio plays. Even before that, Sadie had her own fan club, thanks to her mother’s association with Sarah Jane. She’s been signing autographs for as long as she could hold a pen and receiving fan mail for even longer. Seriously, what other programme in the world could have given her that?

  So, why does it happen? What makes Doctor Who so special? You have to start with the story of course, and the characters, and then there’s the writing, and the effects, and so, so much more. Honestly, though, I think the main difference is the fans. When you’ve been carried over the heads of thousands of cheering Americans at an LA convention – despite having not been in the show for half a decade – you realise you’re in the presence of truly passionate people. It’s like that all over the world – Who fans pop up in the most unlikely places. In fact, I’m sure I only got invited to audition for Peak Practice because the producer had been such a fan as a boy!

  Over the years, thanks to Who, I’ve met hundreds of wonderful people, worked with many of them and, sadly, said goodbye, ahead of time, to some. Jon Pertwee, John Nathan-Turner and, of course, the wonderful Barry Letts (without whom …), truly memorable pals, one and all.

  It hasn’t always been easy, of course, for three years’ work in the 1970s do not a career make. At times it’s been a struggle. On other occasions I’ve fallen into jobs without looking. There’s never been a plan, I’m proud of that; never been a strategy to achieve this by then. And yet here I am, in 2011, star of my own show and with new fans arriving from all points of the globe every minute of the day. I may not always have loved it, I may not at times have even liked my character, but one thing I do know. As Sarah says to David’s Doctor at the end of her comeback School Reunion episode: ‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.’

  Chapter One

  ‘S’ Is For ‘Star’

  JON PERTWEE, like the Doctor he portrayed, was very much what you would call a ‘man’s man’. He got off on gadgets, fast cars and physical challenges – anything that got the adrenaline pumping.

  I don’t think it was any coincidence that Jon’s time on Doctor Who saw the introduction of Bessie, his beloved canary-yellow roadster, the space-age Whomobile and all manner of car, speedboat and helicopter chases. And whereas his predecessors usually took flight at the first sign of fisticuffs, how many of Jon’s fans were left disappointed if an episode didn’t feature a swift demonstration of his trademark fictional martial art, ‘Venusian Aikido’?

  As the new girl on the Doctor Who set in 1973 I have to admit to initially being intimidated by Jon’s off-screen macho bravura. I’m sure part of him would be horrified to hear that but, if I’m honest, I think another part wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. He loved an audience: he was a born performer.

  One day Jon was regaling us with tales of his new-found passion for sailing. Any chance he got, he would disappear down to the south coast to take on the elements. None of it appealed to me, although he was always entertaining to listen to. But then he happened to mention where he was sailing in Devon that weekend and my ears pricked up.

  ‘Jon, did you say Salcombe?’

  ‘That’s right, Lissie. Do you know it?’

  ‘Know it?’ I said. ‘My father’s family used to own half of it!’

  Jon fixed me with those piercing eyes for a few seconds then burst out laughing.

  ‘Don’t be silly, darling. You’re from Liverpool.’

  And that was the end of it.

 
It didn’t matter how many times over the years I told him that my family had once owned the Salcombe Hotel, where Jon actually stayed, or how accurately I described the little ferry that carried him across to the other side of the water.

  ‘No, no, darling. That’s impossible.’

  I don’t know whether he thought I was pulling his leg or just deluded, but it was all true.

  My father, Tom Sladen, was born in Salcombe in 1900. His mother came from Hallsands, another Devon village that was famously annihilated by a tidal wave – it just doesn’t exist any more – and his dad was Captain Thomas Sladen. Sometimes Dad and my grandmother were allowed on Grandpa’s ship, which was called The Lonsdale. I owe my life to that ship, actually. The whole family does. The Lonsdale was docked in San Francisco harbour in 1906 when California was devastated by a huge earthquake. Thousands died. It must have been awful. Grandpa watched it all, helpless, from The Lonsdale. For a few terrifying hours that ship was the safest place in the whole state. My grandparents named their house after The Lonsdale as well.

  Speaking of names, as well as the hotel and lots of surrounding land, my grandparents also owned the little ferry boat that you hopped on to get across to Salcombe Sands. The name plaque on the side of the boat, which read ‘Clara Heath’, probably wouldn’t have meant much to Jon or most other daytrippers, but it meant everything to me. Dad’s mum was called Clara Heath and my full name is actually Elisabeth Clara Heath-Sladen – although Dad never used the Heath part. The first time I was old enough to read the sign on that boat I thought I would burst with pride.

  I would love to be able to say the Sladen name is alive and well in Salcombe but the story of our family fortune is a sadly familiar one. Dad had three uncles: Fred, Tom and Frank. Frank was a local sporting hero who captained the local cricket and football teams during the war, but when I met him, as a little girl, he’d gambled everything away and was living in a hovel.

  The only Sladens with anything left by the time I was born were Dad’s parents, who still had their big house. Grandpa always used to tell him, ‘When I’m gone, Tom, this will be yours.’