Happy Belated Birthday Philip MacDonald

Classic Whodunnit from the Golden Era. I don’t read mysteries from 1920s often. The writing is too stiff, the plots formulaic, the racism casual, the reveal too protracted. Born November 5 in 1900 was Philip MacDonald, British-born writer of faction and screenplays, best known for thrillers.

 The Rasp - Philip MacDonald

It was in the year of 1924 - a year not without its mystery milestones like Poirot Investigates - that a certain Philip MacDonald, a name now remembered only in the fringes of whodunnit fandom, first introduced to the reading public his series character, Colonel Anthony Gethryn. The tale, slender in length but labyrinthine in design, was the inaugural entry in a series that would, in time, see its protagonist softened and reshaped by the author’s pen. But here, in this first appearance, Gethryn is a creature of arrogance and loftiness, a man of government - though what precise department or duty he serves is left as vague as an ICE agent’s home address.

The plot is a tangled skein. A baronet of wealth and consequence is discovered most brutally murdered in his study - beaten, no less, as if by the hand of some vengeful god. No clue is apparent to the eye of the common man. But enter Gethryn, with his cold logic and sharper instincts, and the mystery begins to uncurl - though not without strain upon the reader’s credulity. The solution, when it comes, is far-fetched, and yet I confess I turned the pages with a kind of skeptical fascination.

In a moment of bravado, Gethryn concocts a tale to ensnare the killer - a tale involving doppelgängers, illegitimate heirs, and the switching of corpses. Alas, this fiction, bordering on parody of the nascent genre, proves more thrilling than the truth, which, when revealed, is disappointingly ordinary. One cannot help but wish the lie had been the reality.

The characters, I regret to say, don’t rise above caricature. Gethryn himself is not a man to inspire liking, and his sudden, unconvincing infatuation with a murder suspect - Miss Lucia, whose whiteness of complexion is described with such obsessive frequency that a hardcore reader begins to suspect the author of a peculiar bee in the bonnet - does little to endear him.

For a moment his eyes closed. Behind the lids there arose a picture of her face – a picture strangely more clear than any given by actual sight.

“You,” said Lucia, “ought to be asleep. Yes, you ought! Not tiring yourself out to make conversation for a hysterical woman that can’t keep her emotions under control.”

“The closing of the eyes,” Anthony said, opening them, “merely indicates that the great detective is what we call thrashing out a knotty problem. He always closes his eyes you know. He couldn’t do anything with ’em open.”

She smiled. “I’m afraid I don’t believe you, you know. I think you’ve simply done so much to-day that you’re simply tired out.”

“Really, I assure you, no. We never sleep until a case is finished. Never.”

Their romance, such as it is, unfolds with all the subtlety of a tightly-lace corset.

Elsewhere, we find Mr. Spencer Hastings, Gethryn’s friend, mooning over his secretary, whom he refers to as “that little white darling” - a phrase that might have passed unnoticed in 1924 but now strikes the post-modern ear with a clang. Indeed, the book is marred by the casual bigotries of its time. Anti-Semitic remarks are made without irony or rebuke, and a Jewish character is portrayed with all the offensive tropes of the era. It is a stain upon the narrative that no amount of literary merit can quite erase.

And yet, MacDonald writes with a certain fluency. His prose is never dull and his pacing is brisk. The country house setting, the locked-room mystery, the parade of suspects - all are handled with competence, if not brilliance, considering how early in the Golden Era of Whodunnits it was released. The final chapter, sad to report, is a ponderous affair: in the Dover edition I read sixty pages of explanation served only to belabor what the reader was told during the reveal.

In sum, this first case of Colonel Gethryn is a curiosity - flawed, dated, and at times distasteful, yet not without its charms. It is a relic of its age, and like many such relics, it is best approached with caution, context, and a generous measure of patience on the part of reading gluttons – me, us – who are interested the development of the whodunnit.

The Nones of Perry Mason 98

Note: Conventional wisdom claims that by 1960, 71 years and 80 novels down the pike, the creator of Perry Mason was past his prime. Some blame going over TV scripts for distracting Gardner from the novels, for the writing getting clunkier and stories more formulaic even by his own standards. Too true, I’ve found late-career Gardner a mixed bag. TCOT Troubled Trustee from 1965 is not worth reading but 1963’s TCOT Stepdaughter’s Secret and the last one from 1969 TCOT Fabulous Fake certainly are fun. This one is enjoyable too.

The Case of the Shapely Shadow – Erle Stanley Gardner

Janice Wainwright is a secretary with a secret: she’s in love with her boss, the worthless Morley Theilman. To avoid triggering his wife’s jealousy, Janice plays the wallflower - dressing down, staying quiet. But when she walks into Perry Mason’s office with a locked briefcase and a wild story, things get weird fast.

Della Street, Mason’s razor-sharp assistant, convinces him to take Janice’s case. Janice suspects Theilman is being blackmailed by someone named A.B. Vidal. She wants to open the briefcase  - legally - before dropping it in a train station coin locker. Mason cracks it open: it’s stuffed with cash. They document the serial numbers, stash the case, and mail the key to Vidal.

Next day, Mason and PI Paul Drake stake out the locker. Too late—the briefcase is gone. Then Janice vanishes. Theilman disappears after meeting his sketchy partner, Cole B. Troy, who claims a mysterious woman was tailing Theilman.

Drake tracks Janice to Vegas, where Mason also meets Theilman’s ex-wife, Carlotta. Turns out Theilman was blackmailed into handing over Carlotta’s stock. Cue drama: Lt. Tragg arrests Janice for Theilman’s murder.

DA Hamilton Burger is sure he’s got Mason beat. The evidence? Janice’s car was at the scene, she bought scissors and newspapers (classic ransom letter kit), and post-makeover, she’s got femme fatale vibes.

The courtroom showdown is intense. Mason warns Janice her testimony could land her in the gas chamber. The judge calls a mistrial, and Burger's carotid artery nearly pops.

Verdict: Highly recommended. Even late in his career, Erle Stanley Gardner delivers a twisty, stylish legal thriller. If you like noir vibes, courtroom drama, and smart women who don’t play by the rules, this one’s a ride.

Happy Birthday John Bingham

Note: John Bingham, 1908 – 1988, British spy and novelist, 7th Baron Clanmorris, worked with John le Carré in British intelligence. Le Carre says that Bingham objected to Le Carre’s telling tales out of MI-5 but Bingham is said to be one of the inspirations for George Smiley. Bingham, who died in 1988 at the age of 80, wrote his own espionage and police procedural novels. His highly developed characters and plots are believable and stand up well 50 years after their creation.

The Paton Street Case - John Bingham

In this 1955 thriller, also known as Inspector Morgan’s Dilemma, John Bingham crafts a taut, melancholic tale of murder and moral compromise, set against the backdrop of post-war Britain’s frayed civility.

Inspector Morgan, a Welshman with a poet’s soul and a policeman’s burden, finds himself partnered with Shaw - a man of clipped tones and colder instincts. Together, they probe the death of a gambler whose life was a litany of petty deceit and grubby transactions.

Morgan’s instincts, steeped in Celtic intuition, lead him down shadowed paths. Sometimes they illuminate; sometimes they betray. One such path leads to Otto Steiner, a refugee from Nazi brutality, whose trauma simmers beneath a veneer of graciousness. Steiner’s unpredictability in moments of crisis makes him both a suspect and a tragic cipher.

Another thread unravels through a quiet interview, where adultery is revealed not with scandal but with weary resignation. The betrayed spouse, driven by wounded pride and long-nurtured bitterness, takes actions that defy logic but not emotion long bottled-up.

The case becomes less about justice and more about understanding the fragile grammar of motive. Morgan, caught between duty and empathy, must decide whether truth is always the noblest pursuit - or merely the most convenient.

James Sandoe of the New York Herald Tribune Book Review called the novel “an uncommonly compelling narrative, artfully wrought and compassionately conceived.” It is that rare crime story where the murder is only the beginning, and the real mystery lies in the hearts of those left behind.

After Stoic Week 2025

Why Stoics Should Volunteer for Research Projects

Stoicism teaches us to live in harmony with nature, embrace virtue, and act for the common good. Volunteering as a human subject in research aligns perfectly with these principles. By participating, you contribute to the advancement of knowledge - a rational pursuit that benefits humanity. Research drives progress in medicine, psychology, organizational behavior, rehabilitation science and communicative disorders, reducing suffering and improving lives. What could be more virtuous than aiding such efforts?

A Stoic understands that our choices define our character. Choosing to volunteer is an exercise in courage and wisdom. It is not reckless; ethical research prioritizes safety and informed consent. You act not for personal gain, but for the greater good - a hallmark of justice and benevolence. And even when a payment is made, it can be used to buy books by Dr. Lopez, Dr. Robertson and Dr. Pigliucci so they will be encouraged to write more books about Stoicism for us moderns.

Moreover, volunteering offers an opportunity to practice indifference to discomfort. 

• I admit I’ve found it dull to fill out surveys.  
• I almost fell asleep doing nothing but listening to individual words while my pupil dilation was being measured. 
• Though I was patting myself on the back for undertaking a test of bravery, I found more tedious than bracing Transcranial Direct Current Stimulation, a form of electrical stimulation that involves applying a small amount of current over different areas of my brain. 

Whether the study involves a questionnaire, boredom, or a minor inconvenience (or major – like dealing with parking lots at any university), you can view it as training in resilience. By accepting these challenges calmly and in generous spirit, you embody Stoic ideals in action. 

You don't need to be suffering an ailment to qualify to enter a study - you can provide data as a normal, healthy control subject that fits the inclusion criteria of the study.

In short, research participation is a rational, virtuous, and socially responsible choice. It is a way to live your philosophy - put it into action and make a difference. Will you seize this chance to generate knowledge and serve humanity?

Ways to find Research Projects to Volunteer For

Call the office of your local university’s VP of Research. Ask for the web address of the college’s Research Registry (Portal). An example can be found here.

ClinicalTrials.gov – The largest global registry of clinical trials. You can search by condition, location, or study type. [clinicaltrials.gov]

ResearchMatch – A free, NIH-funded platform that connects volunteers with researchers across the U.S. for health-related studies. [researchmatch.org]

The Kalends of Perry Mason 97

In Tribute to Hugh Marlowe

This well-respected actor with a rich baritone worked in radio before he broke into the movies. He appeared in TCM perrennials such as Meet Me in St. Louis (1944), Twelve O'Clock High (1949), All About Eve (1950), and The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951). He appeared in six – really five – episodes of Perry Mason, one of a dozen actors who played what Perry fandom calls the trifecta - the victim, the defendant, and the culprit.

The Case of the Fraudulent Foto (1959)

In serious horn-rimmed glasses, Hugh plays an idealistic DA aiming to battle graft in the awarding of construction contracts in small city. The dedicated DA is so focused on his goal that he doesn’t see big trouble coming his way from an obvious direction. The bad guys sic the comely Leora Matthews on him to lure him into a compromising position, complete with photographer. Hugh’s DA is arrested on a charge of murder when the blackmailer ends up killed on the floor, where many other blackmailers in Mason stories land.

However, the real star of his episode is the noir look of this season two episode. It is cool beyond belief. Black, white, and shades of grey never looked better in stock shots of cars old even in 1959. The city and the police station at night are made to look huge, cold, harsh, and pitiless, like places you enter as yourself but you come out not yourself any more. The 1890s hotel has incredible woodwork that looks great in monochrome. Mason drives a black 1959 Cadillac convertible. Hugh wears a trench coat that makes us think of fedoras, fog and Nelson Riddle’s theme for The Untouchables. It’s weird because director Arthur Marks did not have an impressive noir history on his resume until the 1970s.

The Case of the Slandered Submarine (1960)

Often cast as a military man, Hugh was the commander of the good sub U.S.S. Moray in this one. He ends up with a screwdriver in his chest so he did not get a chance to make that baritone resonate.

The Case of the Borrowed Baby (1962)

Somebody who trusts Perry and Della to do the right thing leaves a four-week-old baby in a basket on Perry’s office desk. The mother finally surfaces but ends up in trouble deep after she is arrested for murder. The baby in fact may be the heir to a fortune. Hugh is just okay in not a big part as a business manager. The focus on Barbara Hale bonding with the infant was the centerpiece in this episode. Not aging real well is game and savvy Della Street regretting her choice to be a career woman having adventures with Perry Mason.

The Case of the Nebulous Nephew (1963)

Season 7 was kicked off with one of the better scripted episodes. Hugh plays one of two scamsters who aim to con two harmless old ladies. But after living with the two women for a little while, Hugh’s partner in fraud becomes fond of the aunties and puts the argument to Hugh for abandoning their nefarious plan. But greedy calculating Hugh objects and ends up murdered. Besides the stellar acting, the long set-up is about perfect, without a wasted word or scene. The writers make points about staying in touch with your core values, feeling family loyalty, atoning for past sins, admiring the colorblindness of children, and using love and faith as guides. Up there with The Case of the Perjured Parrot and The Case of the Nine Dolls, this may be my favorite episode ever.

The Case of the Sleepy Slayer (1964)

“How much is it worth,” wonders an exhausted caregiver, “to be a sick, empty creature, drained of every drop of the joy of life?” Poor Rachel Gordon has been driven to distraction by providing care to her tyrant uncle for many years. At the end of her tether she puts a couple of rounds into Uncle as he sleeps. The investigation reveals that the tyrant was poisoned before Rachel shot him. Hugh has a small part as a doctor who says of the miser, “even death despises him” and that the old buzzard’s heart, driven by a jolt of adrenaline “would have been like running a transistor radio on a fifty million volt generator.” Hugh is overshadowed by Phyllis Hill as the hard-pressed caregiver who in her loneliness gets involved with a louse; Robert Brown who plays her user BF persuasively; and finally he of the screaming skull,  Richard Hale, who often played the crooked businessman, sickly pawpaw, and sinister miser. 

The Case of the Hasty Honeymooner (1965)

I detest spoilers so I can only say that Hugh again plays the bounder and dastard as he did in Nebulous Nephew. Oddly enough, in this episode his TV wife is his real-life wife K.T. Stevens.  Noah Beery, Jr. puts in a rip-roaring performance as Lucas Tolliver of Oklahoma. He wants Perry Mason to draw up a will for a future wife. This weird request spurs Perry to send Paul Drake on a quest for information about down-home Luke. Paul finds Luke a man unlucky in marriage, having lost not one but two wives, one to a salad of baneful greens and the other to a passing train. Set in 1965, the story has elements based on the new tech of computer dating and newfound concern for PR fallout. Playing true to his usual good old boy, Strother Martin puts in a great turn as a Bible-thumping tattletale.

Stoic Week 5/5: Integrity

Note: Epictetus, Seneca and Aurelius examined fictional characters like Medea, Odysseus, and Hercules through a Stoic lens. Inspired, I apply the Stoic orientation to the messed-up impressions of characters in the TV stories of the original Perry Mason (1957 - 1966) and then I ordered the ghost in the machine to recast the review in the style of Epictetus.  In TCOT Curious Bride, Perry Mason says, “What right have I got to sit back with that 'holier than thou' attitude and expect [clients] to come clean with a total stranger? They come here when they're in trouble. They're worried and frightened. They come to me for consultations. I'm a total stranger to them. They need help. Poor fools, you can't blame them for resorting to subterfuges.”

The Case the Resolute Reformer (Season 4, Episode 14, 1/14/61)

Let us consider the tale of Hoyt, the County Civil Engineer - a man who sought to raise his son by the book, not just any book, but the one written by the upright sages of cinema, Tracy and Heston, on ethics and integrity. Hoyt believed that if he held his son to the highest standards, the boy would rise to meet them. But the Stoic knows: you cannot force virtue into another as you would pour water into a jar. You may guide, you may model, but you cannot command the soul of another.

Hoyt’s son, unable to meet his father’s impossible expectations, turned instead to wine and folly. And in his drunken missteps, he became the pawn of a ruthless man in construction, who used a society girl to bait the boy and compromise the father. The target was not the son - it was Hoyt. The upright man must fall, so the dishonest may rise.

This is the ingenuity of the wicked: they do not fight fair, because they do not fight with reason. They fight with manipulation, with bribery, with the corruption of the weak. And yet, the Stoic does not despair. For what is corruption but the excessive pursuit of reputation, position, influence inevitable in any political system? Wishing for a world free of corruption is like longing for figs in winter.

Hoyt’s assistant Kent, bribed and broken, confesses in court that Hoyt once told him, “Your judgment is not sound.” And Perry Mason, who speaks here with the clarity of a Stoic, replies, “Well, yes. Hoyt was right. If your judgment had been sound, you wouldn’t have taken bribes.”

This is the heart of the matter. The Stoic does not ask whether the world is fair. He asks whether he himself is just. He does not demand that others be perfect. He forgives their ignorance, their weakness, their vanity. He knows that anger at others’ faults is a kind of madness - a refusal to accept that people are as they are.

High standards? Keep them - for yourself. For others, offer patience. Offer understanding. Offer the kind of mercy you will one day need. For we all stumble. We all forget. We all fall short.

And when the world tries to drag you into its chaos, remember: the only thing up to you is your response. Choose reason. Choose compassion. Choose not to be like them.

Stoic Week 4/5: Spite

Note: Epictetus and Aurelius examined fictional characters like Medea and Hercules through a Stoic template. Inspired, I apply the Stoic orientation to the messed-up impressions of characters in the TV stories of the original Perry Mason (1957 - 1966) and then had the ghost in the machine recast it in the style of Seneca. In the novel TCOT Shoplifter’s Shoe, Perry Mason says, "People have their strong points and their weak points. The true philosopher sees them as they are, and is never disappointed, because he doesn’t expect too much. The cynic is one who starts out with a false pattern and becomes disappointed because people don’t conform to that pattern. Most of the little chiseling practices come from trying to cope with our economic conventions. When it comes right down to fundamentals, people are fairly dependable. The neighbor who would cheat you out of a pound of sugar would risk her life to save you from drowning."

The Case of the Witless Witness (Season 6, Episode 28, 5/16/63)

It is a curious thing, Lucilius, how men of sound judgment and upright character, once content to dispense justice from the bench, are drawn to the theater of politics, where virtue is often mocked and ambition wears the mask of service. Judge Daniel Redmond, a man of probity, has accepted the nomination to be Lieutenant Governor - a role which, to the Stoic, may seem as superfluous as weighing down the wise with the ceremonial chains of spectacle and trumpery.

Why would a man exchange the solemn majesty of the law for the hollow pomp and jibber-jabber of political office? Perhaps he imagines he can steer the ship of state. But the Stoic knows: the sea is not calmed by the hand on the rudder, but by the soul unshaken by storms. Yet before we can ponder this folly further, the judge is accused - of fraud, no less, and of poisoning a witness.

The irony is not lost on those who remember his long-ago lecture on statutory fraud, delivered with romantic fervor at a party teeming with lobbyists and fixers. Madge Eberly, once the object of his near-proposal, recalls this moment with a venomous smile. “Weren’t you advising them on fraud?” she asks, her tone sweet with malice. Redmond protests - he spoke only of how fraud might be done, not how it should be. But Madge, spurned and bitter, has already passed the tale to those who would see him fall.

Spite, Lucilius, is a passion rarely named in our post-modern age, which prefers to dress its wounds in irony and scrolling. But the Stoic sees it clearly: it is the soul’s abject surrender to perceived injury, the abdication of reason to resentment. To be consumed by spite is to give one's tranquility to another, to become the very thing one despises.

Marcus Aurelius, that emperor of the inner citadel, reminds us: “The best revenge is not to be like your enemy.” Madge, in her bitterness, has become the architect of her own unrest. Redmond, if he is wise, will not answer her poison with more poison, but with steadfastness and the legal hocus-pocus of Perry Mason.