Perry Mason 104: Bedrooms Have Windows

Note: This is the twelfth Cool and Lam novel, written by Erle Stanley Gardner under his A.A. Fair alias. Published in 1956, it’s been out of print in the U.S. so long it probably qualifies for Social Security, though Mastermind Books in India gave it a second life in 2009. I’ve read half a dozen Perry Mason titles from Mastermind, and only one was so mangled by typos and punctuation crimes that it read like a phishing attempt from someone who failed the course Mechanics of Written English twice.

Bedrooms Have Windows – Erle Stanley Gardner writing as A.A. Fair.

Meet Cool and Lam: she’s brass and bluster, he’s brains and magnetism. the running joke is that they turn routine jobs into chaos for reasons unique to their characters- and this case is no exception.

This time, Lam’s “routine” trailing assignment goes sideways the minute he crosses paths with a woman who’s pure dynamite in a pocket-sized frame. She’s got taffy-colored hair, eyes like melted chocolate, and curves that could make a Zen acolyte sweat. Lam knows better than to get personal with a person of interest, but circumstances are out of his power to influence. Both The Girl and Lam bribe the waiter to disguise ginger ale as scotch. They watch each other through fake-tipsy eyes and book a motel room under circumstances that would make a divorce lawyer grin and shrug. 

What starts as a playful charade turns deadly before dawn. Then come the noises in the night - gunshots? Backfiring truck? Either way, Lam’s in deep.

From there, the story kicks into high gear: prowlers, peeping toms, cheating spouses, and a murder that drags Lam into a whirlpool of lies, fear, and death. Bertha stomps in, all noise and suspicion, while Lam juggles mean cops, genial bully boys, and a femme fatale. Gardner spins the plot like his reputed plot wheel - every chapter another reversal, every clue a trapdoor. Just when you think you’ve got a bead, the floor drops out.

What makes this one rock isn’t just the twists - though there are plenty - but the atmosphere. Gardner lingers over settings more than usual for a Cool & Lam book and a whole lot more than a Mason novel: smoky bars, anonymous motels, Monterey houses that all tell forlorn stories. It’s a nice shift from the usual headlong rush, giving the chaotic unfolding of incident a backdrop that feels lived-in. 

The last third is sheer adrenaline. Lam’s boxed in, the stakes climbing, the clock ticking. You know he’ll wriggle free - he always foils the cops’ ambition to put him away for keeps - but for a few pages it feels like the walls are closing in for good. Sure, the explanation wobbles in spots, but that’s part of the charm: Gardner wants fans surprised, and we're willing to play along.

Bottom line? This is Gardner at his best - a must-read for fans and a perfect start for newcomers.

Perry Mason 103: TCOT Haunted Husband

Note: I think Erle Stanley Gardner’s best period with his series character Perry Mason was the Thirties and Forties. The book reviewed this month is from 1936 and features Our Favorite Lawyer skating on thin ethical ice. Closer to his pulp roots, Mason is more hard-boiled than he was to be after WWII when he became dapper and unflappable in the prosperous Fifties.

The Case of the Haunted Husband – Erle Stanley Gardner

The world is on fire in the run up to WWII, but in California, the war against The Little Guy plays out - quiet, insidious, and dangerous. Stephanie Claire, young and determined, has learned early that dreams shatter easily. Fired from her hat-check job for refusing her boss’s wandering hands, she sets out for Los Angeles, hitchhiking toward the promise of Hollywood. It’s a brave move, full of risk both predictable and not.

On a dusty Bakersfield road, a sleek sedan pulls up. Behind the wheel is a man with charm to burn and liquor on his breath. He offers her a drink, and Stephanie, wary but pragmatic, takes a sip. Better to keep him amiable. But the car becomes a trap. His hands reach for her, the wheel jerks, and in an instant, metal screams against metal. When the wreckage settles, another driver lies dead. Stephanie is found at the wheel, the car stinking of whiskey. The handsy driver has vanished like smoke. And now, Stephanie faces a charge of negligent homicide.

One of life’s dirty tricks, I’d call it. And I’d be right.

The car belongs to Jules Homan, a Hollywood power player - writer, producer, untouchable. He claims it was stolen. Stephanie’s story sounds thin against his polished denials. Hollywood looms over the case like the meanest company town ever, its influence stretching into every corner. Even the police tread carefully, careers dangling on invisible strings that are pulled with impunity.

Enter Perry Mason. Drawn by the scent of injustice, Mason takes the case - not for glory, but because he cannot resist a fight where the odds are stacked and the stakes are mortal. Gardner paints Mason as more than a lawyer; he’s a sage in a gray suit, a man who understands that truth is rarely clear and never simple. His exchanges with Lt. Tragg crackle with tension - Tragg, fair but rigid, Mason, a Stoic with a taste for rule-breaking. Della Street and Paul Drake shoulder heavy loads here: Paul grumbling at the imponderable risks, Della steady and luminous, the heartbeat of Mason’s world. Ham Burger is absent, and the courtroom scenes, though brief, carry weight.

The plot coils and twists. Gardner’s writing loosens at times - threads left dangling, conversations that wander - but those digressions reveal character, motive, point of view. They remind us why Gardner ruled the mystery world of the 1940s, why the public couldn't get enough Perry Mason. Gardner understood ambition, corruption, and the hope that keeps us doing the work of human beings.

For fans and newcomers alike, this is Perry Mason at his most human - and Gardner at his most incisive. It was the Thirties, the pulps, both tough as taxes.

Perry Mason 102: Bride of the Gorilla

Note: In 1951 Raymond Burr appeared in eight movies. Was he desperate for work and eager to be in Bride of the Gorilla though the title implies it would be a forgettable horror B-movie? Or did he simply like the script, which has a Heart of Darkness thing going, i.e. the unfortunate psychological effects of isolation and the harsh realities of the jungle? Legend says Burr wanted the part but the producer thought he was too heavy. Barbara Payton, who played the female lead in the movie, went to bat for Burr and threatened to walk off the movie if they didn’t hire him. Burr did the risky water fast to shed weight and he landed the part. 

Bride of the Gorilla
1951 / 1:10
Tagline: “Her clothes torn away, screaming in terror!”
[internet archive]

Three expats sweat through a nameless South American jungle: a plantation owner, his knockout wife, and a straw boss are locked in a love triangle.

A local witch, furious over her daughter’s ruin, brews a poison that’s pure revenge. The straw boss gulps it down - and starts thinking he’s a gorilla. Or maybe he is. 

When it comes to sci-fi or fantasy flicks, I’ve got two rules: don’t insult my intelligence and keep the actors’ dignity intact. Godzilla nailed it - real fear, real stakes, and actors who looked like they believed every word. Here? The script leans hard on the just-world fallacy: nature will even the score. Sounds profound on a fortune cookie, but here it’s half-hearted. Real danger comes from guilt, fever, and human frailty - not cosmic balance.

Do the actors keep their dignity? The title had me braced for melodrama, and I wasn’t wrong. Barbara Payton glows like neon - brooding, dancing alone, the perfect idle expat wife who needs a hobby like trading English for Spanish lessons or cultivating bromeliads. Raymond Burr? Solid as ever, selling the slide from ordinary lust to jungle obsession. Leaner here, he moves with Mitchum-like menace. Carol Varga smolders as the local flower whose heart gets broken, to her mother's rage.

Bottom line: this isn’t science or magic - it’s payback dressed in spells and potions. The jungle doesn’t forgive, and neither does conscience. The film aims for profundity, misses, but Burr’s grit and Payton’s shimmer keep it from sinking into camp. Call it sweaty noir with a supernatural twist - strictly for curiosity seekers like us hardcore readers and film noir buffs.

As for the connection with the Perry Mason TV series, veteran actor Tom Conway plays the urbane doctor who, understandably, carries a tortch Barbara Payton. He appeared once on Perry Mason in  TCOT Simple Simon (4/2/64) and it was his last appearance on TV. He played an alcoholic actor, Guy Penrose. Conway died at the age of 62 in 1967 from liver damage caused by long-term abuse of alcohol.

Pre-Mason Raymond Burr
Please Murder Me (1956) [internet archive] [my review]
I Love Trouble (1948) [internet archive] [my review]
Sleep My Love (1948) [internet archive] [my review]
Ruthless (1948) [internet archive] [my review]
Pitfall (1948) [internet archive] [my review]
Walk a Crooked Mile (1948) [internet archive] [my review]
Raw Deal (1948) [internet archive] [my review]
Station West (1948) [my review]
Red Light (1949) [internet archive] [my review]
Abandoned (1949) [internet archive] [my review]
Borderline (1950) [internet archive] [my review]
Unmasked (1950) [internet archive] [my review]
The Whip Hand (1951) [internet archive]  [myreview]
Bride of the Gorilla (1951) [internet archive] [my review]

Exploding! Like a gun in your face!

Kansas City Confidential
1952 / 1:39
Tagline: “Exploding! Like a gun in your face!”
[internet archive]

He’s an ex-con with a past that won’t stay buried. Kansas City cops tagged him as a person of interest in a million-dollar bank job. No charges, no conviction - but the stink stuck. Now he’s got a plan to clean up his name and maybe make a buck doing it. He slips into the skin of a dead bank robber, aiming to infiltrate the gang that pulled the heist, sniff out the loot, and cash in on the insurance company’s reward. It’s a long shot, but it’s all he’s got.

Complication walks in wearing lipstick and carrying a law textbook. She’s sharp, ambitious, and not buying his cover story. He keeps her in the dark, but she knows he’s sitting on something big. Love and lies don’t mix well, but he’s already in too deep.

The casting sells the whole thing. John Payne, tall and built like a linebacker, plays the lead with just the right mix of brains and brawn. He talks fast, hits hard, and looks like he’s been through hell and came out one mean hombre. Coleen Gray, as the girlfriend, nails the role of a law student - smart, articulate, and not easily fooled. Preston Foster plays the bitter ex-cop with a chip on his shoulder and a vendetta against the system that chewed him up and spit him out. He’s got a grudge against insurance companies and the political machine that cost him his badge.

The trio of crooks are pure pulp. Neville Brand’s face looks like it’s been through a meat grinder - he’s the kind of guy who’s been beaten so many times he forgot how to flinch. Lee Van Cleef is all sharp angles and sneers, a human ferret who mocks women for falling for him. Jack Elam, sweaty and twitchy, seems like he could snap any second. These guys live for the rush - crime, booze, cards, and chaos. They know the endgame: the chair, the gas chamber, or a rope around the neck.

The film’s atmosphere is pure noir. Payne’s war hero knows medals don’t buy coffee. Cops beat him bloody trying to force a confession, then shrug when they realize he’s clean: “These things happen.” Van Cleef roughs him up over a misunderstanding and mutters, “It just fell out that way.” Victimizers always act like invisible fate pulled the trigger. Payne’s got the final word: “I know a sure cure for a nosebleed - a cold knife in the middle of the back.”

Sure, the plot’s a stretch - three hardened criminals follow a stranger to Mexico. But once you swallow that, the rest is gravy. A few quibbles: a woman in skin-darkener playing Mexican, and no clue how Payne bankrolls his trip south. Still, the twists keep coming, and the silences speak volumes.

The Nones of Perry Mason 101

 Note: Bertha Cool and Donald Lam are mismatched private eyes in Erle Stanley Gardner’s offbeat mysteries written under the pen-name of A.A. Fair. Cool’s tough, practical, and money-hungry; Lam’s wiry, brainy, and clever. Together they tackle scams, murders, and human folly with sharp dialogue, twisted plots, and plenty of friction - more psychology than procedure, always fast and unpredictable.

Fools Die on Friday – A. A. Fair

The story kicks off in the cramped office of Cool & Lam, where the air smells of trouble. Carlotta walks in looking like she’s got a secret she doesn’t want to share. Says her uncle’s wife, Daphne, is planning to slip her husband a poison pill that’ll put him six feet under. She wants Bertha and Donald to stop the poison from hitting the bloodstream.

Lam takes the case like a guy who smells a rat and wants to see the whiskers. He figures Carlotta’s playing her own game, and he’s not wrong. Bertha warns him to keep his nose clean and his hands off anything that’ll make the client squawk. Lam ignores her and dives headfirst into the mess. His way of stopping the poison? Carlotta and the reader have to admit - it’s clever, even if it blows up in his face.

Then the bodies start piling up. Two murders, and the cops come sniffing like bloodhounds. Enter Frank Sellars, a detective who’s all grit and no grin. He’s old-school, hates amateurs, and Lam’s his favorite punching bag. Bertha, who’s got a yen for staying out of jail, cozies up to Sellars and leaves Lam twisting in the wind. She doesn’t want Lam behind bars, but she’s not about to go down with him either.

Sellars plays rough. He thinks Lam’s a liar even when he’s telling the truth, and a choir boy when he’s spinning yarns. Lam’s got that knack for looking innocent while he’s pulling stretchers, and it drives Sellars nuts.

This one’s a little different from the usual Gardner fare. Longer than most - about 270 pages in the Dell edition - but it moves like a getaway car. The plot’s tight, the action fast, and you don’t feel the extra weight. Bertha and Lam are at each other’s throats more than usual, and Bertha’s ready to toss Lam under the bus if it keeps her in the cops’ good books. Lam, as always, attracts a city woman - Ruth Otis - because she thinks Lam’s both “nice” and “hard as concrete,” which is Gardner’s way of saying she’s in trouble and knows she needs help.

Cool & Lam stories aren’t about dusting for prints or playing Sherlock. They’re about people - crooked, clever, and sometimes just out of their depth - getting tangled in their own schemes. Gardner knows the score: people are a cocktail of motives good and not, ingenuity, integrity, and boneheaded moves, shaken and served with a twist of unpredictability.

Lew Archer #1

The Moving Target – Ross Macdonald

It is 1949. Oil millionaire Ralph Sampson has dropped out of sight. His wife, confined to a wheelchair, hires PI Lew Archer to find out whether hubby Ralph is making illicit love with an able-bodied floozie or if he was kidnapped. Getting kidnapped is not in the course of daily life for millionaires, but Ralph has been in midlife crisis mode for a spell. So he has taken up with gurus, astrologers, and fortunetellers, the usual Southern California new-age types that help people work through issues of ethics and mortality for hefty fees.

I’m not sure that Macdonald cared that much about constructing a plausible plot with a steady tempo, but in this novel the plot is as tight as a tourniquet and the pace is hellish. No, I think Macdonald’s primary artistic interest was to construct a gallery of lowlifes around the hero so that Archer can comment on the human condition with his keen sense of right and wrong.

Archer is not a scold, however, since he makes mistakes and kicks himself around the block like earnest people will. With high standards (without being high-minded), a cool attitude, a little arrogance, his lines hit the mark and so does his ironic - but not too - humor.

The electric clock in the kitchen said twenty after four. I found a box of frozen oysters in the freezing compartment of the refrigerator and made an oyster stew. My wife had never liked oysters. Now I could sit at my kitchen table at any hour of the day or night and eat oysters to my heart’s content, building up my virility.

He is a skillful interrogator who knows how to elicit a range of responses from his subjects in order to squeeze information out of them. He even gets an alcoholic drunk to collect information from her so the end justifies the use of not always honest means. A depression and two world wars made people in the USA astute and detached and efficient and not always nice in their ways of getting on in life.

In terms of serious writing, Macdonald's style flowery, imaginative, metaphorical, enjoyable.

“Why not?” I said. “The night is young.” I was lying. The night was old and chilly, with a slow heartbeat. The tires whined like starved cats on the fog-sprinkled black-top. The neons along the Strip glared with insomnia.

All served with tasty dialogue like a greaseburger festooned with bacon.

“You’re taking this pretty seriously,” I said. “Why don’t you go one step further and take it to the police?”

“Trying to talk yourself out of a job?”

“Yes.”

The fast-paced investigation goes in all directions and a fireworks finale goes way beyond Miss Scarlett in the library with the rope. Macdonald was one for convolutions and surprises and that’s alright with me.

The Kalends of Perry Mason 100

Note: The 100th article with some connexion to Perry Mason - at this point, even I’m starting to suspect I’m the defendant. "Ya gotta believe me, Mr. Mason. He was dead when I got there!"

A Tribute to Barbara Pepper

The comedienne appeared in four episodes of Our Favorite Show, the classic TV courtroom drama Perry Mason.

In TCOT Vagabond Vixen (11/16/57) she is cast as the titular vixen’s mother who runs a diner in New Kingman-Butler, Arizona. When Perry ensconces her in an L.A. hotel room he says, “Your stay here is on me so get anything you want,” to which she replies, “That's good. I need a beer.” Snooty members of the upper-middle-class Paul and Perry exchange looks when Paul describes her as “the salt of the earth.” This was probably Pepper’s best part: she brims with life and punch, persuading us that she’s somebody who never lets the trials of life steal her joy for too long.

She was the Nosy Neighbor Witness in two outings: Mrs. Diamond in TCOT Violent Vest (4/29/61) and Mrs. Williamson in TCOT Prankish Professor (1/17/63). Mrs. Diamond, a floor-below neighbor, provides damning testimony that saw the accused around midnight carrying out men's clothing and saw a man entering or leaving her apartment many times. Next door neighbor Mrs. Williamson always takes her rake to the leaves not to Zenfully promote mindfulness and present-moment awareness but so that she can keep an eye on the comings and goings of residents of the other bungalows.

Our Barb is credited as “Fat Woman” in TCOT Left-Handed Liar (11/25/61). This “ripped from the headlines” episode exploits the real-life rise of the modern health club. Fueled by celery juice, Les Tremayne tyrannically runs Health House, a Vic Tanny-like fitness center, welcoming one and all, bodybuilders, housewives, or college students. Mean Girl Veronica Temple (Leslie Parrish) is taking four women through punishing calisthenics. Pepper’s Mrs. Dwyer tries but fails to touch her toes and moans pathetically “I simply can’t reach any lower, Miss Temple - it hurts!” “It’s supposed to hurt!” Veronica barks like Lee Ermey in Full Metal Jacket. Ah, the Sixties - when there was no gain without pain and it was still socially acceptable to mock the unfit.

Let’s Remember

Barbara Pepper’s story is a fascinating, bittersweet slice of entertainment history. In 1930, at just 15 years old, she signed a contract to become a chorus girl - a decision that shocked her parents. The notion that such a contract could hold legal weight without parental consent is almost unimaginable today. Yet, thanks to an agent who personally knew her father and persuaded the family to “let her try,” Barbara stepped onto the stage.

She didn’t just try - she dazzled. With striking beauty and a natural flair for dance and comedy, Barbara earned a coveted spot in the legendary Ziegfeld Follies of 1932 and later appeared in two seasons of George White’s Scandals. Her talent caught the eye of Eddie Cantor, who urged her to head west to Hollywood in 1933. Barbara followed that advice, chasing stardom with determination.

Hollywood stardom, however, proved elusive. Despite her gifts and relentless networking, Barbara never became a marquee name. Instead, she carved out a career in dozens of films - often in brief roles that showcased her looks, though occasionally she landed speaking parts in B-pictures like The Rogue’s Tavern and The Hollywood Stadium Mystery.

Tragedy struck in 1949 when her husband died in a car accident. Grief led Barbara down a difficult path of self-medication with alcohol. This struggle cost her dearly: even her longtime friend Lucille Ball hesitated to cast her as Ethel Mertz in I Love Lucy, fearing that adding another drinker to a set already coping with William Frawley’s issues would be too risky.

With two young children to support, Barbara turned to jobs in laundries and food service. Her once-glamorous figure changed, and her voice grew gravelly - a brass edge layered over years of hardship. Still, she kept working, appearing in small roles throughout the Fifties and Sixties. She even found a niche on television, most memorably as Arnold the Pig’s “mother” in about 30 episodes of Green Acres. Jerry Lewis admired her comedic style and cast her in several of his films.

But the toll of years - weight gain, drinking, and relentless struggle - undermined her health. Forced to leave Green Acres, Barbara’s heart gave out in 1969. She was only 54.

Barbara Pepper’s life reminds us that behind the glitter of show business often lies grit, heartbreak, and resilience. She never became the star she dreamed of being, but her story deserves to be remembered - not just for the roles she played, but for the courage she showed in a world that offered few second chances.