Elisabeth Sladen: The Autobiography

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