Running Through Corridors
Rob and Toby’s Marathon Watch of Doctor Who (Volume 1: The 60s)
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Published by Mad Norwegian Press (www.madnorwegian.com).
Cover & interior design: Christa Dickson.
Editor: Lars Pearson.
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First Printing: November 2010.
Second Printing: September 2011.
First e-Book: October 2011.
To Russell. For making me canon.
RS
To the two Mrs Hadokes: Mum, the original, for getting me this far; and Katherine, who became one during this quest, for being quite the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me (yes, better than Longleat), and who will see me through the rest.
TH
Table of Contents
Foreword by Peter Purves
January
An Unearthly Child
The Daleks
The Edge of Destruction
Marco Polo
The Keys of Marinus
The Aztecs
The Sensorites
The Reign of Terror
Planet of Giants
The Dalek Invasion of Earth
The Rescue
The Romans
The Web Planet
February
The Crusade
The Space Museum
The Chase
The Time Meddler
Dr. Who and the Daleks
Galaxy Four
Mission to the Unknown
The Myth Makers
The Daleks’ Master Plan
The Massacre
The Ark
The Celestial Toymaker
The Gunfighters
March
The Savages
The War Machines
Daleks Invasion Earth: 2150 AD
The Smugglers
The Tenth Planet
The Power of the Daleks
The Highlanders
The Underwater Menace
The Moonbase
The Macra Terror
The Faceless Ones
The Evil of the Daleks
The Tomb of the Cybermen
The Abominable Snowmen
April
The Ice Warriors
The Enemy of the World
The Web of Fear
Fury from the Deep
The Wheel in Space
The Dominators
The Mind Robber
The Invasion
The Krotons
The Seeds of Death
The Space Pirates
May
The War Games
Acknowledgements
Credits
Foreword by Peter Purves
I was extremely flattered to be asked to write this foreword for Running Through Corridors – and came to realise that had such a request been made of me about seven years earlier, I would have been totally ill-equipped to accommodate it. Toby and Rob have spent this book discovering Doctor Who anew after having seen it many times, but it’s fair to say that throughout my life, the time I devoted to making the show has far surpassed the time I’ve spent watching it. You see, when I appeared in Doctor Who in the mid-1960s, no domestic recording of programmes was possible, except through the old reel-to-reel audio machines of the time. Consequently, I hardly ever saw any of the 44 episodes in which I played Steven – the show was transmitted early evening on Saturday, when I would be out making personal appearances and the like. My stories were never repeated, so if I missed an episode, then that was that.
When the commercial video era came about, it turned out that the BBC had – in its great wisdom – wiped many of the two-inch videotapes of the show, and so only a few of my stories were available for release. I was sent videos of The Ark and The Gunfighters, but I only had fleeting and poor memories of the latter, and so I never bothered to view it. (More on that story in a moment.) I did watch The Ark – which again, I didn’t see on first transmission – but to be entirely honest, I was dreadfully disappointed with it. The story itself was excellent and imaginative, but the execution – particularly the design of the Monoids – was very poor, almost laughable, I felt.
My first proper re-exposure to my time on Doctor Who, as it happened, occurred through the audio rather than the video medium. Luckily for me (and for many Doctor Who fans), there were people who liked the show so much, they made off-air audio recordings of the 60s stories. These were eventually tracked down, and it’s very pleasing that a full archive of Doctor Who now exists in audio form. And so, when audio producer Mark Ayres asked me to record the narration links on every serial in which I appeared, it was very exciting. In many cases, this would be was the first time I had revisited the show since 1966!
Starting in 1999, we recorded these rather excellent (is that immodest of me to say?) narrated soundtracks. In some cases, I had the occasional recall of the scripts involved, but to a large extent, I came to it all afresh. And the great joy was that I loved these stories! I liked the scripts, I enjoyed the plots, and I threw myself into the narration with genuine pleasure. I was surprised by the extent that the recordings remained (if you will forgive the pun) undoctored, but Mark assured me that the Doctor Who aficionados would not be pleased if the pauses, occasional Billyfluffs and other extraneous noises were cut out. Everything had to remain in its exact original form. If you haven’t experienced these audios, then I can highly recommend you have a listen. (My favourite Billyfluff of all time, by the way, occurs in The Myth Makers when Bill Hartnell says, “I am not a dog – a god!”)
I returned to the world of televised Doctor Who some time later, in 2003, when The Time Meddler was broadcast in its entirety. I can’t say my opinion changed much upon this viewing – I had liked this story at the time, and still liked it upon seeing the final product. Steven’s character was at its strongest (just as Dennis Spooner had envisaged), Peter Butterworth was a joy to watch (and had been a joy to work with), and Dougie Camfield was a super director. The Viking/Saxon fights were admittedly pretty awful – embarrassing really, and patently performed in a set the size of an old sixpence – but there was some good acting, particularly from Alethea Charlton.
Then in 2004, my “journey” of re-experiencing Doctor Who continued when I was asked to watch The Gunfighters as part of a live commentary at a convention in Chicago. I hope everyone reading this will forgive that I expected to hate watching this story, mainly because I just hadn’t enjoyed making it. How can that be, you might ask, given that every boy of my era wanted to play a cowboy, and this story was my best chance to do so? Well, the director, Rex Tucker, seemed to rather ignore me – actually, not only me, but Jackie Lane and Bill Hartnell too. I now suspect it was because Rex, who had been overlooked as the show’s original producer, felt that directing a Doctor Who serial was a little below what his talent deserved. He did, at least, cast the story extraordinarily well – the Clanton gang looked genuine enough, and Hollywood cowboy actor John Alderson was present as Wyatt Earp, so the authenticity was remarkable. The sets were amazingly good, and the mix between Ealing film sequences and the studio matched very well indeed. But, perhaps owing to the fact that Rex hadn’t cast the three regulars, he larg
ely left us to our own devices, and spent much more time focused on the other actors. I also remember being acutely embarrassed at having to sing “The Ballad of the Last Chance Saloon” – I shouldn’t have been, because I had always been a singer, but somehow I really found no pleasure in it.
But do you know – as I did that commentary in Chicago, I found myself thoroughly enjoying what I could now see was a subtly funny story. Mind you, there was nothing subtle about my comedy – there were several huge double takes, a couple of trips over my own spurs, I was bumped in the back by the saloon doors – but I think it worked. Having spent some decades thinking ill of this story, I have certainly warmed to it. (The Ark, however, hasn’t improved for me on a second viewing, nor a third.)
Having now re-experienced all of my episodes on either audio or video, I continue to find it such a shame that the audience of the time liked the historical and pseudo-historical stories less than the hard SF ones, because they were amongst my favourites. The mix of SF and history in The Time Meddler was a delight, and The Myth Makers and The Massacre were powerful stories – the latter being, I think, my best performance and the best script of them all. What the historical stories lacked in SF content, they made up by being script-led rather than character-led. I’m told that the historical stories did not long survive my departure from Doctor Who, but continue to think that the historicals we made (is this also immodest of me to say?) were of the highest calibre.
Throughout Running Through Corridors, Toby and Rob have noted the many ways in which Doctor Who has kept reinventing itself. My era was certainly one of change – not just for the series, but for television in general. In the early 60s, the theatre was the thing, and actors generally were quite disparaging about “television actors”. I suspect that, deep down, much of this disdain owed to there only being three TV channels – something that didn’t change in the UK until 1982 – so the opportunities to appear on TV were in short supply, and the attitudes towards TV may have contained an element of sour grapes about them. But by the middle of the decade, actors with a good theatrical pedigree were beginning to appear on television more and more – and nowhere more than in Doctor Who. To watch and listen to my time on the series, I feel very fortunate to have worked with big names such as Max Adrian, Barrie Ingham, Andre Morell, Leonard Sachs, Michael Gough, Laurence Payne, Peter Butterworth, Stephanie Bidmead and Eric Thompson.
Enough of my reminiscences – the authors of this three-volume study have far more to offer than the ramblings of an elderly actor. I don’t know Rob, but have worked on a number of occasions with Toby, whose knowledge of Doctor Who is far greater than mine. The two of them have here produced a book worthy of a degree in Doctor Who-ology! It’s always a pleasure to read, and has such tremendous insight into the series. Whether you’re enjoying Doctor Who for the tenth time or the very first, Running Through Corridors is a must-have for viewers the world over.
Peter Purves
Steven Taylor,
Doctor Who companion, 1965-1966
Suffolk, England, 2010
January 1st
ROB: Last night I had a brilliant idea! The last brilliant idea of 2008. So brilliant is this idea, that by morning, I can still remember it – unlike all the other brilliant ideas the sparkling wine gave me.
I wake my wife and tell her all about it. This, in itself, is not a brilliant idea. Indeed, I soon realise that it’s the first really stupid idea of 2009. I’m lucky to escape with my life.
I tell Janie I want to embark on a quest. Something mad and impulsive, something insane. Something that’ll be a voyage of discovery. And I want her to be there right by my side. For some reason she thinks that I’m proposing a round-the-world cruise, and she even manages to look quite interested. Then I explain to her – no, I think I’m going to watch every single Doctor Who episode in order. Her enthusiasm wilts somewhat.
“Why?” she asks. “Because it’s there!” I say, with pride. “Are you sure?” she asks. “I am sure,” I say, “I’m really, really sure.” I invite her to watch the entire run with me. It’ll be fun, I tell her. And quite an experience! To see a series develop through 45 years right from the start. She tells me she won’t. Thanks. Ever so much. But no. “Last chance,” I say, “are you sure?” “Oh yes,” she says. “I’m really, really, really sure.” And just so I’m left in no doubt of her sureness, she informs me to what degree she’d rather have her eyes gouged out with rusty nails.
She might be right. It is something of an intrepid journey. Not for the faint-hearted. But it’s not something I want to do on my own. I need someone brave by my side. Like a sherpah. Or one of those furry dogs with brandy kegs around their necks, St Bernard’s, those are the fellers. Only one person springs to mind.
I text Toby Hadoke. His reply seems a bit abrupt. I check the time, and see it’s not quite seven in the morning. I wonder if I woke him too early.
TOBY: I work nights, I’m a stand-up comedian. My head rarely hits the pillow before 2 am. My friends know this, and know not to call a) before midday and b) when Doctor Who is on. As it happens, I wasn’t working last night, but that’s because it was New Year’s Eve, when even people less curmudgeonly than myself are entitled to be grumpy if texted at half-six the next day.
It’s Rob Shearman, though, and he’s easy to forgive – so even as my outbox pings, I feel a bit guilty for the torrent of abuse I have just unleashed in response. I got to know Rob last year when he came to see my one-man show, Moths Ate My Doctor Who Scarf, and ever since have exchanged texts (usually at a more civilised hour) and met him for lunch every now and again. Rob has an idea: to watch every Doctor Who story, in order, and accentuate the positive. To rediscover why we love the show at a time when its popularity is at such a height, it’s all too easy to take it for granted. I waver slightly, because I simply don’t anticipate for a minute that we’ll be able to keep it up.
I also have other niggles. I’ve never really wanted to be a part of organised fandom; Doctor Who has always been something I’d enjoyed on my own. The year just gone, however, found me dipping my toes into the world of moderating DVD commentaries and agreeing to appear at conventions. Christmas was a bit sullied when one of our greatest playwrights, Harold Pinter, died on 24th December – and yet, this event reopened the tiresome Internet debate as to whether or not he played Ralpachan in The Abominable Snowmen. (He really didn’t, you know.)
2008 was also the year, however, that I discovered the joy of spending time with other fans. Yes, I’d had chums who loved the show: my good friend Mark had 40 or so videos when I was his roommate, but he wasn’t such an encyclopaedic fan that he’d have been able to play “Name That Obscure Non-Speaking Background Artist” with me, or have been moved to laughter by jokes about signal howl-round or jabolite. But last year, as I toured my show and schlepped from one strange town to another, I enjoyed some wonderful times amongst people I’d never met before, but who proved to be fluent in my language. It turns out that every corner of this fair isle has someone with an opinion about, say, The Androids of Tara, the Cartmel Masterplan and quite what The Eye of Harmony was doing in Paul McGann’s TARDIS. Such people would wait behind after my performance, and we’d have excitably geeky chats over a drink or two.
And yet, I’ve never been to The Tavern – the fabled monthly get-together of Doctor Who pros and fans alike – and have never really hung about at conventions. But I do relish the times I spend with Rob. (We once sat in a pub in Liverpool and went through the Pertwee era in order, assessing its merits – I’d never done that with anyone before!) We make the effort to get together whenever we’re in the same vicinity, and I even rang him up in-between spots at The Comedy Store after the transmission of Journey’s End. I kept rushing off stage, dialling his number and shouting “and another thing ...!”, to the polite confusion of some of the nation’s most respected funsters.
So I think, yes, that might be a fun thing to do. One day. I text Rob again. And I go back to bed.
R: Toby’s second text – the one in which he doesn’t swear so much – is heartwarming and affirmative. But it’s also a bit stupid. He seems to miss the point, that this is something we need to start today. Because it’s the first of January now. He doesn’t reply to my new text. So I’m forced to phone him up and tell him to read his text. No, I tell him, I don’t want to chat on the phone – it’s early, I don’t want to wake the household. I’m not entirely inconsiderate.
This is the Gap Year – Doctor Who has been back in regular production since 2005, but for the first time since then, we have no complete series to look forward to at Easter. A few special episodes will appear during the year to prepare us for David Tennant’s departure, and to introduce... well, who? So 2009 is the perfect year to do this undertaking, when filling our each and every day with Doctor Who will seem quite reasonable. And not the obsessive act of thirtysomething mentalists.
I love Doctor Who. So much so, I even wrote an episode of it once! Oh yes. So I think it’s important this quest is a celebratory quest. Toby and I will watch two episodes a day, every day, without fail – and write to each other saying why we like them. What there is to admire. Because Doctor Who’s brilliant, isn’t it? Always. Even when it’s being very rubbish too. We’ll watch it to find the bit of magic everyone keeps missing from The Power of Kroll episode three, or Arc of Infinity episode two. We’ll cherish how amazing it can be when it’s on form, and find what there is to adore in it when it isn’t.
We come to praise Doctor Who, not to bury it.
Each and every day. Come on, Toby, I say. Do you have a lot on this year? He writes back and says he hasn’t.
T: Actually, I write back and tell him I’m getting married this year. Rob doesn’t seem to pick up on this.
But, yes, I’ve always known Doctor Who is brilliant. I’ve always known that despite its faults, it’s a unique and thrilling programme every week. But I’ve oddly never worked out why – and why I’ve never never got around to reading Far From the Madding Crowd, and yet have watched, say, The Mutants more than a dozen times.
Running Through Corridors: Rob and Toby's Marathon Watch of Doctor Who (Volume 1: The 60s) Page 1
