Remembering DOCTOR WHO’s Elisabeth Sladen

This is a piece I never thought I’d write.  At the very least, not until I was much older and it might be something that was almost expected because of advanced age.  But here I am, still not quite believing what I’ve been told, regardless of how reliable the source may be.  

My friend, Elisabeth Sladen, has died, losing what is being reported as a long fight with cancer.  Not that you’d have known it while watching her work over the past several years.  Her own series, SARAH JANE ADVENTURES, had become very successful and she had just signed with Big Finish to perform alongside her former co-star, Tom Baker, in a new series of DOCTOR WHO audio dramas. We were supposed to have Lis and Sarah Jane around for a long, long time.

Like most people reading this, I was first introduced to Lis through her work on DOCTOR WHO.  As investigative reporter Sarah Jane Smith, Lis quickly got the audience’s attention as something new for the series.  Sure, she still screamed from time to time in the face of things like dinosaurs and giant spiders on her back but who wouldn’t?  Sarah Jane was strong without having to be harsh and vulnerable without becoming a whimpering mess.  It’s not surprising that she is one of the most popular characters in the long history of the series.

When I was only 13 years old, I accepted an assignment to interview Elisabeth Sladen & Ian Marter at their first appearance in the United States, at the first actual DOCTOR WHO convention held in the US.  After somehow convincing my Dad to drive me to Los Angeles from Iowa, I was on the convention floor, trying to make good on my assignment.  Despite making advance arrangements, I found myself getting stonewalled and wound up having to resort to one of those insane backup plans in order to complete my assignment.  In this case, the plan was winning a dance with Lis Sladen at the charity auction.  Trust me – this is the short version of what happened.

Winning a dance with Lis was not a foregone conclusion.  Auctioning a dance with Lis had been mentioned several times in the weeks leading up to the convention while I was making preparations with the convention organizer but hadn’t come up once as my friends and I sat at the auction.  Lis Sladen and her WHO co-star, Ian Marter (the actor who played Dr. Harry Sullivan), were on stage along with the convention organizer, the woman I’d dealt with for weeks leading up to the event and whom we shall refer to as She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.  I wrote She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named a note, asking if she was still going to auction off a dance with Lis.  The note was passed to her, she read it, dismissed it and sat it down on the table in front of Ian Marter.

A couple of things you should know about the late Ian Marter:  1: He was kinda nosy.  He picked up the note and read it.  2: He had an evil sense of humor.  He started giggling as he read the note, then leaned behind the Convention Organizer, She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, and started talking to Lis.

Next thing we know, there’s one more item up for auction: ONE (this number was stated emphatically by She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named while looking me right in the eye) dance with Lis.  And the bidding began.

The bidding was, in a word, INSANE. As the bidding started to get into the hundreds of dollars and the money pooled by my friends and I was starting to reach its limit, She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named kicked her “bitch-mode” into high gear.

“You drove two thousand miles for this,” She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named said, looking right at me. “It’s what you came here for.”

No, I came here on an assignment and I was going to complete that assignment come hell, high water or convention organizer who gets full of herself when she’s got the slightest bit of authority. She was like dealing with Ilsa, She Wolf of the SS without any of the good points.

She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named could see we were reaching the limit of our funds.  In an attempt to try and make a preemptive strike on other bidders, we bet the farm, hoping a couple hundred dollar jump in the bidding would clear out the other bidders.  Our plan worked, except for one bidder. One extremely determined bidder who had a fanboy crush on Elisabeth Sladen that would probably get him put on a potential stalkers list today.

My friends pooled the rest of their money, then took up a collection.  “Anybody who wants to see Ken win this, drop some money into the hat”.  Donations dropped in while Lis was falling further into shock.  I think Ian may have sent someone to drop a few bucks into the hat but I could never get him to confirm that.

Finally, I heard a dejected voice say, “Nobody wants to see me win this…”  I felt bad but hey, I was on a mission.  Despite the best attempts of She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named to get him to take out a second mortgage on his house to out bid me, the other bidder finally dropped out and I won the dance.  She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named didn’t seem pleased but knew there was nothing she could do about it at this point. Right after saying “sold”, she looked me in the eye again and made it very clear – I had purchased a single dance, nothing more.  

Lis was astounded, to say the least.  Ian Marter was laughing so hard he nearly fell off his chair.  Twice.  Finally, with the bidding over, Lis walked over to me, eyes wide, sputtering that she had a new dress, would have her hair done and would be ready for the dance.  She left for her next appearance, still talking about everything she was going to do to prepare for that night’s dance.

One of my friends congratulated me.  “You handled that well,” he said.  

I promptly collapsed, my legs suddenly turning to Jello.

That night, at the dance, Lis came in and looked gorgeous as promised. She’d had her hair done and wore an amazing white dress that seemed to flow around her as she danced. Despite what anyone who has seen the photos might think, I was not looking down her dress.  Honest.

She was still amazed that anyone would pay that much to dance with her, especially someone who obviously could not dance.  We talked as we danced (well, she danced and I tried to move as much as I could with both of my feet firmly planted on the ground). Seeing my complete lack of anything resembling rhythm, Lis coached me into position that allowed her to twirl, giving the appearance that I might not be as inept on the dance floor as I really was.

As we talked, I told her about my assignment to interview her & Ian.  She congratulated me on my resourcefulness for getting a story – very Sarah Jane of me.  And of course she’d love to do an interview and she was sure Ian would as well.  Then, one of those slightly embarrassing moments happened:

My stomach growled.  Loudly.

“It gets so unruly when you don’t feed it,” I said, trying to just laugh it off.

Lis looked amused. “When was the last time you ate?” she asked.

I thought for a second.  “Let’s see…. this is Saturday night…” I paused. “Thursday?”

Lis stopped dead with a serious look on her face.  “WHAT!?”

At which point she grabbed my arm and led me out of the ballroom, right past a sputtering She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, Lis informing her that she was taking me to get something to eat.  I tried to explain that not eating for a couple of days wasn’t unusual at a convention but she wasn’t hearing any of that – the order was for food and the timing was NOW with no delays.

This was how I met my friend, Lis Sladen.  It was the start of my career and that act of kindness was so typical of Lis.  She seemed to look out for me from time to time ever since.  When I was working on a DOCTOR WHO documentary and ran into a problem with Jon Pertwee, it was Lis who took care of things between us without ever being asked.

There was always something special about her (although she would laugh if you tried to tell her that).  It was no surprise that when long-time DOCTOR WHO producer John-Nathan Turner convinced BBC to think about a WHO spinoff series in the 80’s that he picked Sarah Jane to pair up with K-9.  Years later, when Russell T. Davies brought DOCTOR WHO back after what the BBC likes to cal a “prolonged hiatus”, it just seemed natural for her to be the companion that created a bridge to the original series.  Her own series, The Sarah Jane Adventures, has kept the spirit and feel of the original series alive while the main series becomes slicker & more “produced” by the episode.  The ultimate fate of that series is unknown as of this writing but I hope there is some way to keep that spirit alive, although I’m at a loss right now at how to accomplish that without having Lis front & center.

When I heard the news that she had died, aside from just not believing it until I had it verified by at least two sources, my mind went to that first meeting, Lis encouraging me & making sure I was fed.  Our relationship over the years was like that; she was always encouraging, ready with kind words, willing to help if she could. Even though we’d fallen out of touch, as people do, she was always there, an important part of my past.  Who she was helped make me who I am and I’ll always be grateful for that. So many people in the various tributes to Lis have talked about how she would take them under her wing and that is something I can happily confirm.  Lis wasn’t just that way for people she was working with.  My experiences with her prove that she was that way every day, no matter the situation. She really was as special as people are saying.  Sarah Jane is special because Lis was so very special.

It’s hard to imagine a world where I won’t have the chance to ever see or talk with Lis again but she has left so much behind, both in her work and in the people she directly influenced that her presence will be felt for a very long time.  Her work is a part of modern mythology and as such, will likely outlive us all.  As far as legacy’s go, she leaves us with a pretty damned good one.

-Ken Bussanmas

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