On Acting (Part One) - Beginnings & Doctor Who

Interview with Robert Sidaway, parts of which were originally published in Doctor Who magazine in June 2022.

How did your acting career begin?

When I started, I initially wanted to be in television and film, but because of my voice and stature I started getting a lot of work in theatre - and it was frustrating because I was crazy in wanting to be a movie star! In fact, after graduating from the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art at the age of 21, I turned down the Royal Shakespeare Company. I auditioned for Peter Hall at the Aldwych Theatre, and he said “Would you like to join our family?”, and I said yes. But after, when I went and sat in a coffee bar in the West End, I wrote a letter saying that reluctantly I had to decline his offer. I posted it, and then went back to my bedsit in Earls Court. I don’t know why I did it, and I was really worried as one of his associates, who had promoted me, called to tell me he would make certain “I never worked in theatre again!”

But when I got home that same evening, I was told a friend of mine had called. It was Donald Sutherland, who I was at drama school with. He was in repertory at Chesterfield Civic Theatre, and had been offered a Hammer film, and would I take over from him. So instead of joining the RSC, I ended up in Chesterfield Rep for four months, taking all the parts that Donald was originally going to play!

Soon my career took me to the West End, and gradually television parts started to come, but even then I was frustrated as I was only offered upright policemen and good guys. I wanted the same kind of meaty stuff that I could get in the theatre!

What do you recall of working with William Hartnell?

William Hartnell was on an island of his own. He had terrible trouble learning his lines. On The Savages the rehearsals were above a pub in Shepherd’s Bush, and I can remember we were all waiting for him to arrive so that we could start rehearsals again in the afternoon. He eventually turned up looking terrible, as he’d managed to get into a fight in the pub! I also remember he had a wicked temper. He wasn’t the easiest of people to work with, very spiky, so we were not all that surprised when he came back with his face knocked-up, and plasters across his eye. But we still recorded the episode at the end of the week, and the makeup department managed to hide his injuries!

The one person he did get on with was Peter Purves, and I think that was because they’d been working together for some time. Peter was a big help for him.

What can you remember of the production?

I have very little memory of it. I can remember how helpful and friendly Peter Purves was, I really enjoyed working with him. I played a character called Avon, and I had a girlfriend in the story called Flower. We were referred to as the ‘beautiful people’, which caused us constant laughs! I do remember Kay Patrick, who played Flower, was a real professional and generous to work with. Interesting that we both have had long careers behind the camera.

The Savages was directed by the legendary Doctor Who director Chris Barry, do you recall what it was like to work with him?

He was a very thoughtful and gentle person, very good with actors. He was very loyal to the script, but also a really creative director. I was horrified to hear that he had died because of an accident on an escalator at a shopping mall.

What memories do you have of working with Patrick Troughton?

Patrick Troughton was a little bit distant to the guest cast, but he was such a professional. Nothing was too much trouble for him. When you were acting with him, he was always generous to a fault, and would do anything to help you in a scene. He’d give his all to you. But offscreen, he had his mates, Wendy Padbury and Frazer Hines and they were very tight. He took the load of the work all the time, and he wasn’t your chum - he didn’t have the time to be. But that was fine, he was completely different from William Hartnell.

And Wendy Padbury?

Wendy was just the loveliest of people, full of energy and very welcoming to those of us who were part of the guest cast for The Invasion. And Frazer was always one of us. There was a lot of laughter during the weeks the main cast worked together.

Can you recall any incidents from the location action sequences?

Mad Mike was flying the helicopter in the rescue sequence. As Captain Turner, I was with him in the helicopter. As he was flying over the crew, he suddenly said to me: “Let’s give them a scare, let’s just drop!” He switched off the rotor blades, and the helicopter started to fall and fall and fall. I was terrified, and I could see everybody scattering below. At the last minute, he turned the blades on again and up we went. I nearly passed out!

He got absolutely slammed for it by Douglas Camfield, the director, because they all thought we were about to crash. I remember remarking afterwards how fortunate it was that there was insurance, because it could have been pretty awful. The production manager said that no, we weren’t actually insured if anything went wrong! So that was quite a day.

Sally Faulkner played your love interest in the story.

Sally was a really lovely actress to work with, I enjoyed being her character’s “dolly soldier!”

She’s a natural actor, never any ego, just loved acting and giving her best. I always thought she could have been a name in comedy. But I remember she was absolutely mortified in the sequence when she was climbing the rope ladder during the helicopter escape and the wind got hold of her skirt. She was told that they’d got some wonderful shots. However, a lot of them were cut as her bottom was deemed unsuitable for early evening television!

The Invasion marked the second appearance of Nicholas Courtney as Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart – how do you remember him?

As a good actor friend! He never took things too seriously and had a great sense of humour. He was totally professional, and he enjoyed his work. We used to tease him on set that his moustache always managed to look different every day! I spent a lot of time with Nicholas, and I saw him once or twice afterwards. He was just a genuine guy, an actor’s actor. I’d like to have kept in touch with him.

The Invasion was directed by the legendary Douglas Camfield, what are your recollections of working with him?

He was ex-army, and everything was meticulously rehearsed. He was a really precise person in all he did. He was also an absolute disciplinarian, but he had to be – The Invasion was a big production. Because of his army connections he was able to bring in army consultants and soldiers to do some of the big action scenes. The studio work was incredibly difficult, because it was something of a spectacle for Doctor Who at that time.

Douglas had absolutely no sense of humour, he used to get so irritated by the amount of fun and laughter we had. People would intentionally turn up a few moments late to do something on purpose, to rile him, because he was such a disciplinarian! He could lose his temper with us because it was a real exercise, there were so many extras involved. It was a big production for then.

I was actually the last to be cast. I remember going to the production offices in Shepherd’s Bush to audition for the part. Douglas was difficult to talk to, he didn’t say much. He asked me to read a scene, and I read it. He looked at me and said “yes, well, ok!” He wouldn’t look at me, so I assumed that it was going to be the usual story of ‘we’ll be in touch’. And then he stood up, and almost saluted, and said: “We start rehearsing next week.” And I said, “So I’ve got the part?” He nodded and I actually did feel that I ought to salute! I remember walking out into Shepherd’s Bush thinking that I’d just had the easiest audition ever!

I got to know him and his wife Sheila very well. I had dinners with them and kept in touch. I was absolutely devastated when he died so early. Technically he was a damned good director. Not that good with actors, but they respected him, and he got what was needed because there was that respect. You wouldn’t wrap your arm around him or share a joke with him, but you did respect him, and that was a good thing for a production like The Invasion.

Golden Memories In A Colourful World - England Pride

It was Saturday, July 30, 1966. Across England it was the day of the World Cup Final against West Germany at Wembley. The nation was readying radios and black and white televisions. While I was a young actor appearing in a lavish production of the classic “Pride and Prejudice” at the Theatre Royal, Windsor, a beautiful theatre opposite Windsor Castle.

The management dictate was that the matinee would go ahead, although the audience was expected to be less than our cast. If we'd known it would take another 55 years before England would reach another final at an international tournament we might have refused to perform, as our actors union Equity ruled that if the paying audience was less than the number of actors performing then the performance could be cancelled - but we were working actors and the consequence of such a move could impact our future working opportunities with theatre managements!

The play had opened July 11th on the first day of the World Cup tournament - and we got better reviews than the English team’s first game in the competition in a stalemate against Uruguay! By a strange coincidence, our last matinee was also on the very last day of the tournament. It starred James Hayter and Viola Keats as the Bennet parents, with Neville Jason as Darcy, all major stars in TV and film at the time. I was playing the charming George Wickham, finally seducing and eloping with Carole Ann Ford's Lydia!

I don’t remember too much detail of the production, except for working with Carole and this special day. Two years previously, Carole had played a companion to William Hartnell’s Doctor Who, whilst in May of this year I had acted in the series as Avon in “The Savages”, with the Doctor’s female assistant this time played by Jackie Lane as Dodo . So we had something in common when we were cast in the play and met to rehearse – though at the time neither of us were to know how the series was to become part of British popular culture.

On the Saturday morning of the big day at Wembley, and our last matinee, I went out and bought a swish portable radio, determined to listen to the game whenever I could during the performance. Although we had been promised updates from management, via a small box television in the office of John Counsell who ran the theatre, I wanted to hear as much of the game as possible, as did Carole and several others in the cast.

So on that sunny, balmy day I drove on empty roads (the nation was already indoors in front of their televisions and radios) to the theatre in my Mini Austin, with my new radio in it’s box sitting on the passenger seat. On arrival it was straight to my dressing room, setting up the radio, getting into costume, and then listening to the build up to the game from 2:00pm. Curtain up for our play was at 2:30pm for an audience of 12, and kick-off for the game at 3:00pm for a crowd of 100,000!

And so the play and the game were performed, actors and footballers entertaining their respective audiences. Both sets of performers giving their professional best! The big difference is that we actors knew how our performance would end, the footballers didn’t. The theatre play had two intervals, the game had one halftime – and we in the theatre gathered together in our intervals in the Green Room with my radio to nervously listen to the game. At all other times it was news shared between us all as we came off stage or shared the latest in the wings. I even sneaked into John Counsell’s office to catch moments of the game on the TV, and later was seriously reprimanded for it. I’m not sure what our performance on stage was like that afternoon, but we all knew our footballers were giving everything on the Wembley pitch. I remember celebrating England’s second goal in the wings with Carole and Neville Jason!

And what a game we listened to – 1-1 at halftime, then in the second half England 2-1 up until Germany’s equaliser in the last minute. Then in extra time England go ahead 3-2 with a disputed goal, then unbelievably England scored another to make it 4-2 in the last minute. I remember we heard what became the ever remembered commentary – ‘some people are on the pitch, they think it’s all over, it is now, it’s four’! 

I do remember the jqoy between us all at the final result, that the evening performance was probably the best we had given, and that after the final curtain we all celebrated in the theatre bar. Good thing there were no police breathalysers for drivers in operation those days!

Every time I look at the portable radio that I still have, and every time England footballers get close to winning again in a World or European tournament, the memories of this great day in sport, as well the play and cast, flood back. Of course, I never imagined it would be 55 years until England got to a final again, this time against Italy on July 11, 2021. Another special memory, however I will miss being in that theatre with Carole and friends.

Golden Memories In A Colourful World - No Sex Please, We're Wolves

Another golden memory in my time in theatre was when the football team I passionately support came to London to see the hit comedy “No Sex Please, We’re British”. After my West End runs in “The Magistrate”, followed by “The Wild Goose” and “Abelard and Heloise”, I was a struggling actor again, working part-time helping to market the sex comedy at the Strand Theatre (now the Novello) that was to eventually run for sixteen years!

Football (soccer for Americans) was great sporting theatre for me. Two hours of drama, performed by players without a script. Winning puts the world at rights for me, losing then all is wrong. My Wolves (Wolverhampton Wanderers) in their old gold and black reached the League Cup Final in 1974 against old rivals Manchester City. And the memory of what happened before the big game at London’s Wembley Stadium remains with me is as if it happened yesterday!

As a supporter from the early fifties, when Wolves were once called ‘Champions of the World’ (a proud story), I could rarely visit my home city to see them play at the nicknamed ‘Golden Palace’. So occasional games against London clubs were always special moments for me. Now my son and I were going to see them play at the historic Wembley and I had a crazy idea which was supported by the Producer of the show. I invited Wolves to a performance on the evening before the big game. If they came it would be a media promotion winner for the show AND my football team!

It was of course highly unlikely that the players (athletes) would have a night out just hours prior to one of their biggest games of their careers in front of a 100,000 crowd. But I gave the unlikely a try with a letter to the club chairman, just waiting for the expected ‘thank you but…’ However, that reply never came. Instead, just a few days before the game, I opened a reply from the Wolves assistant team manager ‘thank you for the invitation, after discussing it with all concerned we would like to attend…’

I was going to entertain the old gold and black, and at the same time had scored a major PR event for one of the most successful shows in the West End at the time. 
In hindsight, I’ve always thought it was a masterstroke by the club’s management team from a physiological point of view. On any day before a game, it’s usual to keep your players away from the spotlight, monitor fitness levels and nutrition, keep them focused and get a good night’s sleep. But not for this squad! This would diminish growing nerves, take their minds off the next day - a ‘naughty’ comedy being the perfect antidote for the team to enjoy together. An evening of laughter and getting to meet the stars. I let the press know that Wolves might be the underdogs for the final, but they were out to enjoy their time in the capital as well as their football. I kept fingers crossed it would hit the headlines for my team and the show.

The big evening came and the Wolves team coach arrived outside the Strand Theatre. The show’s producers and myself were lined up to welcome the players alongside club officials, their wives and families. What an occasion standing there shaking the hands of all my heroes. It reminded me of a line-up for a Royal Command Performance! They took their seats for the 8pm curtain up, and with a packed audience they laughed away the performance (even a drink at half time - sorry, interval) and I bet you not one of them gave a thought to the game the following day. After the final curtain the team went on stage to meet the cast. This was the black country football club stars meeting West End stars, and what camaraderie it was as performers in theatre and football got together. Most of the players were interested in meeting the two strippers (modest in those days) and didn’t leave the theatre until around 10:30pm, so by the time they reached the so-called ‘secret hide-away’ hotel it would have been a pretty late bedtime. From what I heard, it was a late breakfast for them on their Wembley day.

But it was an early breakfast for me, after buying all the morning papers and thrilled to read the back page sports headlines that covered Wolves night out at the Strand Theatre. My favourite copy was in one of the nationals front page – ‘No sex Please, We’re Wolves!’. Manchester City were a footnote.

And that afternoon I was there at the old Twin Towers stadium with my family, and my 9 year old son who had met them all on stage and who’d been promised that they would wave to him from the pitch – and kept their promise!

Did I assist in the Wolves 2-1 victory that day in '74? I always kid myself that I did. They were certainly a happy band of brothers as they left the bright lights of the theatre late that night, and even happier band that lifted the cup for their thousands of supporters.

Post-note: while acting, then writing and producing for film and TV, I’ve travelled the world over the years, which means watching Wolves on TV in China, New Zealand, Thailand and North America. Wolves as ever give me the moments (good or bad) to forget the pressures of the industry I’m in – ‘We’re Wolves Ay We!’ is the call and ‘Out of Darkness Cometh Light’ is the motto. But I will always miss being in the iconic Molineux  stadium, built in a leisure park created by French settlers in the 18th century.

Golden Memories In A Colorful World - Alastair Sim & Twelve Years Acting Lessons in One Night

 

From my days as an actor there are some memories that I feel come from yesterday. While some struggle to be remembered from the backstage shadows of the theater and film. Here is one that forever feels as if it happened yesterday!

I was lucky enough to act alongside the incomparable, intuitive talent of Alastair Sim in two productions that succeeded to make it London’s West End. The first was a convoluted political drama Number 10, that also starred Michael Denison, Dulcie Gray and John Gregson, and took us on an extraordinary theater journey in Manchester, Edinburgh and even Toronto before opening at the Strand Theatre in London’s West End.

The second adventure began in the tranquil retreat of the Chichester Festival Theatre in May 1969. Sir John Clements was the director and the Miguel Pinero farce The Magistrate was the perfect vehicle to showcase Alastair’s wonderful comic skills, and allow for a memorable piece of improvisation during the play.  He played Aeneas Posket, a dignified court magistrate led astray one night by his young stepson. He gets to his court disheveled and exhausted, and attempts to wash himself with calamitous results. A personal, unscripted moment of pantomime that became a singular tour de force – the soap, water and towel combined in a dance of classic comedy. Alastair culminates his ablutions with an accusatory finger that he wags at his image in the mirror. “Who was naughty?” The finger hesitates, then slowly turns to point at himself, before he puts it to his lower lip with a quintessential, hang-dog look.

In rehearsals, I remember all of us in the cast felt that this moment was developing into something very special. For those who saw the show, Alastair’s performance is long remembered as one of his finest. During actual performances Maggie Smith (who was in repertory with the restoration play “The Country Wife”) regularly visited the wings to watch his magic moments of improvisation, his brilliant comic timing.

After the season at Chichester, the production transferred to the Cambridge Theatre in London, to run for a year. Apart from Alastair, the cast included Patricia Routledge, Michael Aldridge, Robert Coote and Renee Asherson. The reviews were generous, the audiences electric, the feeling onstage a rush.

During the run of the play, with my dressing room next to his, there started a nightly ritual where I would go to Alastair’s room after the final curtain, when Alastair had his wind down cigar. Shared moments of enjoyment and insight (for myself) of the profession I was in.

I’m also certain Alastair needed me there to answer the dressing room door and screen the procession of celebrities and fans who stopped by to congratulate him. Well-meaning admirers whose familiar knock on the door would produce a sigh, a raise of the eyebrows and the weary comment of “not again” from Alistair. It was part of a public aversion that included his refusing to ever sign an autograph. He was contrary – it was part of what made him.

Barely weeks into the run there was a familiar knock at the door. A familiar sigh from behind as I opened up to see who was there. On this particular night I froze, as standing in the corridor was Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward. There to tell Alastair how much they’d enjoyed the play and in particular his performance. I was of course in awe. Alastair was archly polite and politely dismissive. Within a couple of minutes he closed the door on them. They were gone and I was floored. I turned to Alastair, who simply stared questioningly back, as if mystified by my reaction.

“Don’t you know who that was?” Still a blank look, another puff of the cigar, another sip of whiskey. I continued: “That was Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward. She's an Oscar winner. Paul Newman’s new film Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid has just opened and is a huge hit.” I’d seen the movie a few days before, but my enthusiasm appeared to leave Alastair with an increasingly vacant expression.

Until the following evening.

Even before I could make it into my dressing room, Alastair was beckoning me to his, firmly closing the door. He was clearly agitated. That afternoon he’d been to the cinema to see Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. How could he have been so rude to such a fine actor. He was mortified.

If I had been dismayed by Alastair’s behavior the previous evening, that was nothing to my present pleasant surprise. And this wasn’t the end of it. Amidst the swirls of cigar smoke before that evenings performance, there was another knock on Alastair’s dressing room door. This time it was a telegram delivered by the stage-door keeper. As requested, I read it aloud.

Dear Mister Sim
Last night you gave us twelve years of acting lessons in one night.
With thanks
Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward

Alastair’s face was a joy. He kept the telegram taped to his dressing room mirror for the rest of the run.