Sladen, Elisabeth - Elisabeth Sladen - The Autobiography

Most of the costumes were brilliant – obviously a lot of time and effort had gone into them. The standard had been very high when this kid walked by in what looked like a black bin liner. I just burst out laughing and slid under the table! ‘What on earth is that ?’ I called out to Ian but I was giggling so much I didn’t hear his answer. I literally had to dive out of view. It had been such a precious day but this costume brought out the giggles. Now I knew how Keith Barron felt with that bloody train on Stepping Stones – I can’t do this any more .

We raised quite a lot of money that weekend and I’ve still got a photo of us presenting a cheque to the local hospital. My main memory of that convention is the American fans, though. I’d only ever met British fans before. These guys didn’t have the benefit of the same historic relationship with Who because the programme hadn’t been broadcast for as long. It might have been on loop daily but it was still years behind. You’d never have guessed it though from the noise. They were polite, they were informed and respectful – but everything was so much bigger and louder and more extreme. It was truly incredible. I loved it, I really did.

Another significant contrast between UK and US events is the merchandise . Shortly after I arrived, Lucy said, ‘We’ve got a table where you can sell your tapes and photos.’

‘My what ?’

‘Your merchandise – whatever you’ve brought to sell.’

‘God, I haven’t brought anything!’

‘OK,’ she beamed. ‘That’s good, too.’

We really missed a trick there. Americans, I soon learned, were so far ahead of Brits in this area.

If Lucy was surprised at my marketing naïvety, she was positively staggered by my professional ignorance. It’s not just because she works in PR. Everyone I met in LA couldn’t believe I hadn’t come to the world’s celluloid capital with the aim of finding an American agent.

Honestly, it never occurred to me .

Ian returned to London after the convention but Brian and I had bought Freddie Laker ‘open’ tickets. In other words, we could stay in America for a few weeks and go home when our money ran out. I was really looking forward to that – we’d had such fun in California during our Morley days. While we prepared to have the time of our lives, however, Lucy and Amy set about working on my behalf. They had loads of tapes of me from their own collections and sent these around to local agents. What an honour having people like that working for you! Through them I got an interview at Paramount and the Samuel Goldwyn Studios.

Another agent approached me direct. I’d just finished a Q&A at the convention when this older guy with silver hair shuffled up from the back of the hall. He didn’t look like the usual Who fan, let’s put it that way.

‘I really enjoyed that,’ he said. ‘Can I give you some advice? Write to the William Morris Agency – tell them Abe Lastfogel sent you.’

I thanked him for the compliments and went backstage. When I told my hosts they were ecstatic. ‘Abe’s the agents’ agent,’ Lucy explained. ‘He’s been around since Lana Turner’s day – you have to write to them!’

So I sent the letter, then Brian and I set off on our trip. A few weeks later I got a letter back – forwarded to our hotel in Santa Barbara. It simply said that so-and-so, the head honcho at William Morris, would like to see me the next day. I showed Brian the letter.

‘Well, I can’t go to that,’ I said. ‘We’re on holiday.’

In hindsight, of course, I should have jumped in a cab, on a train or on a plane. Those offers don’t come around every day, not even every year. But I was so naïve and nonchalant then. I wrote back, ‘I return on this date and I’ll pop in then.’ So that’s what I did. Of course, sod’s law, on the day I turned up the main man was on vacation. I saw his second-in-command, who looked about twelve years old. There wasn’t the hint of a spark between us and I wasn’t surprised when I never heard from him again.

Why didn’t I rush back when I was asked? I regret that, I actually do, but I didn’t at the time and that was the main thing. My holiday with my husband was more important.

I had one more chance to make an impression on the city. A guy called Dave Rosen, who represented a host of international superstars, had responded to Lucy’s letter. When he invited me to his office on Sunset Boulevard I was determined not to cock it up. An hour later, I was on cloud nine. He was so complimentary.

‘You could achieve incredible things here, Lis,’ he promised me. ‘We can get you as high as you want to go.’

‘What do I have to do?’ I asked.

‘Minimum: you have to move over here. Give me a year and I’ll make you a star.’

A year in Los Angeles? What an amazing offer! With Rosen behind me, I began to believe I had a shot at Hollywood. I knew my answer.

‘I’m sorry, Dave – it’s got to be “no”.’

There was no way I could do it. Mum had only recently died and Dad had never recovered. Every weekend I could, I caught the train up to be with him. I’d phoned him a couple of times from LA and he was anxious to see me again. There was no way I could stay away from him for a year.

Back in London Brian said I should go to the BBC and tell them about the merchandising opportunities available at ‘Whol’. ‘They’re selling calendars, photos – all the stuff the Beeb – and you ! – should be making money from.’

So, fire in my belly after an amazing trip I made an appointment at BBC Enterprises, the Corporation’s commercial arm. ‘Look, do you realise how much money they’re making? We should be getting a slice of that,’ I told them. They virtually laughed me out of the building – I swear it was a case of, ‘Little Sarah Jane, what does she know?’ That’s honestly how I felt I was treated.

A year later they were knocking on my door. ‘What were you saying about us selling things over there?’ I could have screamed. By then the horse had bolted and the moment had gone, never to be recaptured. So long as Who was making money in the UK, they weren’t interested in it abroad – I’m convinced of that. But in America you can be popular one minute and gone the next, so you have to harness the moment. They missed it. If they hadn’t, maybe Who would never have been cancelled.

Despite any professional frustrations I was grateful to ‘Who1’ for two things: the first was magical friendships with Lucy and Amy (we’re still close today). Secondly, and probably more importantly career-wise, that weekend really reignited my love for Doctor Who . I’d never gone off it, never become one of those people who start laughing at the wobbly sets or too-earnest acting – I just assumed my moment had passed and my connection with it, too. I thought I’d put that chapter to bed in 1976, never to be reopened. But LA changed all of that. All the love I ever had for the show or the fans came flooding back. From that moment on it stopped being something I should run away from – I needed to embrace my Who past and my Who future.

I’m not saying this would have been enough to influence my meeting with John Nathan-Turner, but if I were asked to take part in something else, maybe the answer would be more positive.

* * *

Adverts were still a lucrative way of making a living. I remember receiving the booking for a Dulux paint commercial and I thought, That shouldn’t take long . Of course, I’d forgotten Dulux’s mascot was an Old English Sheepdog so of course I’d be acting with him – and dogs and I just do not get on! Back then anything to do with a dog seemed to involve the celebrity trainer Barbara Woodhouse and true to form, she was all over this. She reminded me of the canine version of Mary Whitehouse.