As many friends and family know, Doctor Who has long been one of my favorite television shows. Specifically, its run from 1963 - 1989. The series was revived in 2005 and, while I've enjoyed parts of it, it just hasn't been the same as it was when I was a kid. The original show was serialized, with multi-part stories which always ended every episode (except the concluding one) on a cliffhanger. Classic Who was made on a shoestring budget, with tatty special effects, dodgy costumes, and sets that wobbled so much at times you wondered if they might fall down. And I loved it. The stories were engaging, and the circumstances of its production allowed one to use their imagination to fill in the gaps that the budget couldn't reach. Good stuff.
I had a small, black & white TV in the bedroom of the modest I home I grew up in on Draper St. in the 1980s. Doctor Who aired on the local PBS station, WILL-TV, at 10:00pm on weeknights. This was later than my parents really preferred for me to stay up, but one night I wasn't feeling well so was allowed to watch TV past the usual bedtime. I laid prostrate on the bed while mom clicked through the (very limited) channels on the TV, until there was something we came across that might take her sick child's mind off his illness.
At one point, mom clicked the dial over to PBS, where we entered midway through a scene where a tall man with a mop of hair tripped over his very long scarf. "Stop there!" I called out. Mom left it on the channel, and I watched what would be my first episode of Doctor Who. The aforementioned man with the scarf was the Fourth Doctor, portrayed by Tom Baker. The scene took place in his TARDIS, a machine that was bigger on the inside than it was on the outside, and he would travel through time and space in it, having adventures that would enchant yours truly for years to come.
In 1984, Xian and his family moved to my hometown of Champaign, and he ended up going to my grade school (Westview Elementary). We were in the same grade, though were almost two years apart in age. We ended up becoming friends, and could often be found on the playground during recess, not playing Transformers or what have you with the other kids, but sitting on the equipment talking about Doctor Who (or various other nerdy things). Xian was super smart, very advanced for his age, so I'm sure he could have talked about topics more high level than a cheap British sci-fi TV show, but he seemed to enjoy it, as did I. His dad, Jim, would occasionally take us onto campus, to the Illini Union Bookstore (back when it was actually in the student union), and there Xian and I would peruse the turnstile rack that was full of Doctor Who books. These were novelizations of the TV episodes, and made for quick, engaging reading.
Of course it made sense that, when it was announced that a Doctor Who convention would be coming to Champaign on February 9th, 1985, Xian and I would want to attend. We got tickets, and my mom chaperoned us to the event. The Pantograph, a local(ish) paper out of nearby Bloomington-Normal did a write-up on it, and to say that I was stoked little 9-year-old would have been an understatement. (Xian was only 7!)
I've never been much of a morning person, and never was this truer than when I was a kid. When it came to schooldays during the week, I was nearly catatonic. Mom would literally have to fill a glass with water and toss the water on me in order to shift me out of bed. And on the weekends, I'd sleep-in until it felt right to wake up. On Saturday, February 9th, 1985, however, I sprang out of bed just after dawn, the sunlight streaming through my bedroom window. I remember doing one of those exaggerated, simultaneous stretch and yawns typically only found in cartoons, and was ready to start the day. I'll never forget how surprised mom was at seeing me up and about so early. But, hey, the convention was starting at 10:00am, and we had to pick up Xian, so what else did she think I was going to do for the hours beforehand? Sleep? Ha!
So we picked up Xian and headed over to the Chancellor Hotel, at the corner of Neil & Kirby in Champaign. They had a small convention center attached, and that is where the day's events were taking place. From my recollection, there was a large room which would eventually host a Q&A with Colin Baker (the new Sixth Doctor), and John Nathan-Turner, the longtime producer of the show (who today would be considered the showrunner). In addition to that, there was a long hallway which, under normal circumstances, would be the unremarkable hallway of the convention center, but which so many of us attendees became familiar with because that is where we waited in long lines for some of the events, developing a camaraderie during the periods spent waiting.
Then there was a screening room, where they played some of the Sixth Doctor's stories. At that time, Colin Baker had been in the role less than a year, and WILL-TV had not yet broadcast any of his episodes, so getting to see some of them was a special treat. Additionally, there was a filk room, where various merchandise was sold. I particularly remember wanting a copy of John Pertwee's (the Third Doctor) memoir, Moon Boots and Dinner Suits, but mom didn't want to buy it. So it goes.
We had a nice time in all of the aforementioned rooms, but there was one that was extra special. It was where we actually got to meet Colin Baker face-to-face. During the earlier Q&A session, he and John Nathan-Turner (who by the way was in a frightfully terribly mood) were sitting at a long table on a stage in front of the audience, so there was a bit of distance between them and the fans. To his credit, Colin was quite funny during the Q&A, often pulling funny faces and generally mugging for the crowd, making things as light as they could be for those in attendance.
So then, the autograph room...
We stood in line -- Xian, mom and myself -- trembling with anticipation that we were getting to meet a bonafide TV actor, and one who was the latest Doctor Who! Well, Xian and I were excited. Mom was putting on a brave face, but this sort of TV show wasn't really in her wheelhouse, so she was more so playing the dutiful parent role. She did, however, think quite highly of Mr. Baker. When Xian and I were getting Colin's autograph, mom asked him if she could take a picture, to which he replied, "A pleasure!" and he turned to the camera (as did Xian - not sure why I didn't), and mom took the photo. She then regaled others during the months that followed at how accommodating Colin had been, and how British he'd sounded when saying, "A pleasure."
So, with a day of filking, Q&As, video watching, and meeting a celebrity done and dusted, mom took us across the street to McDonalds, so Xian and I could have some sustenance. I will always remember that day, and that moment at McDonalds because, as we sat there having lunch, I kept turning to look at the Chancellor Hotel across the street, and my heart beamed with joy at everything that had transpired. As Mr. Ice Cub would say, It was a good day.
And now, as I type this, that day was exactly 40 years ago. Forty. Years. Four decades. I can scarcely believe it. Don't get me wrong, it definitely feels like something that happened a long time ago, back in the mists of time, so this isn't one of those 'it feels like only yesterday' kind of things. No, what gives me pause is that I'm old enough to have experienced something that far back. I mean, if, back in 1985 you'd asked me to remark upon the year 1945, it would've seemed like something from caveman days. Ancient. I mean, we were as far away from the end of World War II then, as we are from that convention now. I just... can't quite wrap my head around it. Still, I feel fortunate to be here. As is Xian. We've been through a lot over the last 40 years. We've both lost our moms, but we've also prospered in many respects, and have our own families.
Back, briefly, to 1985: I'd asked Mr. Baker to autograph my copy of The Key to Time. It was a book about the history of the Doctor Who TV show (done in a sort of diary/journal format), and it had a nice cover and a cool photo on one of the pages of Colin Baker leaning outside of the TARDIS prop. It was next to that photo that he'd signed his autograph. He liked cats, and so next to his signature he made a quick little cat drawing. I still have that The Key to Time book, though the cover is long gone, and the binding is holding on by a thread. The photos mom took on that day are kept within its pages. And, of course, there's Colin Baker's autograph which, along with everything else, I shall cherish for another forty years.
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