Perry Mason 178: Bachelors Get Lonely

Bachelors Get Lonely - A. A. Fair aka Erle Stanley Gardner

This 1961 effort serves up the usual Cool & Lam cocktail: Bertha’s penny-pinching optimism, Donald’s improvisational genius, and a murder that blows their plans sky-high.

Bertha is thrilled to land Montrose Carson, a respectable developer who looks like the kind of client that will help the firm dodge the messes into which clients usually drag them. Carson suspects someone in his office is leaking sensitive information to a rival who keeps beating his bids. Before Donald’s bunk detector even starts to flash yellow, Bertha has cooked up a plan to smoke out the mole and is her usual smug self over her brilliance.

Naturally, the case pops like the culture. A corpse appears, Donald is hip-deep in trouble, and Lt. Frank Sellers is measuring Lam’s neck for the noose. Bertha, buying into Sellers’ accusations, charges betrayal and accuses Donald of tanking the firm. The only suspense, as in past novels in the series, is whether this is the time Donald can’t find his way out.

The title nods to Lam’s bachelorhood and his role as a faux playboy heir in a sting operation to expose business espionage. Espionage leads to murder, murder to secrets, and secrets to rationalizations like: “How many people live the orthodox lives they’re supposed to?” Gardner was a sympathetic guy, ever ready to assure readers they weren’t nearly as weird as most people.

The novel is absurd fun: comic relief, snappy setups, and coincidences that glide rather than jar. Lam oscillates between out of control and cool as a cucumber, while Bertha clutches her purse like Mr. Krab in diamonds. Switchboards buzz, cafeterias hum, and motels come with separate units – Nostalgia City for readers born in the Fifties.

As always, every babe falls for Donald (including a stripper named Daffodil), though he’s mostly a gentleman - except when looking down Elsie Brand’s top and calling her “Sister.” Sellers, meanwhile, tramples constitutional rights, and Gardner slips in practical advice: “I refuse to talk to you… until I consult with an attorney.” Good to know if life plays dirty.

The wrap-up isn’t as baroque as a Perry Mason finale, but the dialogue crackles with antique slang and blessedly few ten-dollar words. Gardner, writing as A.A. Fair, keeps the tone light, the pace brisk, and the ethics flexible.

Bottom line: Bachelors Get Lonely delivers vintage Cool & Lam - industrial intrigue, murder, and morals as flexible as a yoga teacher’s spine - with enough charm to make you forgive the creaky coincidences. Not top-tier, but a solid slice of mid-century pulp entertainment.

 

Perry Mason 177: Great Day in the Morning

Note: Raymond Burr plays – surprise! – a heavy in this western. He brings to his performance as village potentate Jumbo Means his imposing physical presence (he looks close to 300 pounds) and his distinctive intensity. As the owner of palaces of vice and sin, his character has his shady side. He is an influential Northerner in a predominantly Unionist town in Colorado, so he is in the thick of pre-Civil War strains.

Great Day in the Morning
1956 / 1:37
Tagline: “I like walking alone - no ties.”

It’s a strange movie with an unlikely hero. Set just before the Civil War, it features Owen Pentecost, a character who keeps himself emotionally distant from everyone around him. Robert Stack, an actor with a range up there with Fred MacMurray and George Raft, was perfectly cast to play a loner who says “Sure, I'm loyal. I've got an undying loyalty to myself and no one else, nothing else.”

On the eve of the Civil War in 1861 Owen Pentecost of North Carolina arrives in Denver as a stranger. But he quickly achieves the American dream (money and influence) by winning a saloon cum hotel in a card game rigged in his favor by Ruth Roman, mama of the attached brothel. He is thus able to invest in gold digging start-ups, gathering in half their findings in exchange for his financing.

In the over-heated times before the Civil War, everybody has to choose a side. There’s no “let us all reason together” here, the times don’t allow for subtleties like conscience or brotherhood. Pentecost is from North Carolina but the other Southerners don’t like or trust him because they’ve not known him for years. The Union men in town don’t like him because he is a Tar Heel.

Pentecost's interactions with women highlight his strange solitude. Boston Grant (Ruth Roman) ardently pursues him and not just for his money and power. Though she wants to be his helpmeet in business, he evinces zero affection for her. His relationship with Ann Merry Alaine (Virginia Mayo) intermittently sparks up but romance sputters out. This triangle in the movie features good acting by the actresses.

But the triangle adds to a crowded movie. Pre-war stresses, amoral jerk as hero, two plucky women after the same grouchy jerk and more – the subplot of an orphan boy who is hoorawed by the local kids because they’ve not known him for years so they don’t trust him. The gorgeous Technicolor is the reason to watch this movie.

As for the connection with the classic Perry Mason TV series, hate-filled Yankee Leo Gordon appeared in TCOT Dangerous Dowager as an honest casino owner. Bar employee who has a great scene with Stack, Peter Whitney played an ill-tempered farmer in TCOT Pathetic Patient, an irascible gangster in TCOT Stand-In Sister and a venerable sea captain in TCOT Wrongful Writ. Ubiquitous character actor Regis Toomey, a priest in this movie, was in TCOT Loquacious Liar and TCOT 12th Wildcat.

The Ides of Exploitation: Mystic Circle Murder

Note: Everybody’s a critic. I’m informed that I’ve bestowed “almost Dostoevskian moral gravity” upon a cheap exposé picture. Guilty as charged. Give me a 68-minute Poverty Row programmer and before the second reel I’ve discovered alienation, sexual politics, class warfare, psychic trauma, and the collapse of Western civilization. Perhaps occasionally I should just let the guy in the turban be a crook. OTOH, just wait until you see posts for Stoic Week 2026.

Mystic Circle Murder aka Religious Racketeers  aka Madame Houdini Speaks
1938 / 1:08 minutes
Tagline: “Thrilling Chilling Exposé of the Fake Medium Racket!”

In the dim corridors of human grief, where memory clings like burrs to the soul, there are phonies who prey upon the broken. This exploitation film, brief and strange, does not seek entertainment for the masses. It is a warning, a document of moral decay, and a tribute to the lonely struggle of Beatrice Houdini, widow of the great illusionist, who devoted her life to exposing the lies of spiritualist charlatans.

She appears early in the film, not as a character, but as a conscience. Her voice is clear, her purpose unwavering: to protect the grieving from those who would exploit their sorrow.

The story centers on a wealthy steel heiress, Helene LeBerthron, whose guilt over her mother’s death makes her vulnerable. She is young, pale, blue-eyed, and fragile - an image of innocence that invites corruption. Her hope is not strength but weakness, and the audience, helpless, watches her drift toward deception. We movie-goers whisper, “Girl, listen to your skeptical boyfriend.”

The medium, La Gagge, is no mystic. He is a technician of illusion, a manipulator of grief. He explains to his accomplice - who smokes constantly, as if to remind us that death is always near - that belief must be coaxed, not forced. The machinery of deceit is literal: wires, soundboards, Orientalist props. But the machinery of psychological manipulation is more insidious. The medium isolates the mark, surrounds her with unfamiliar sights and sounds, and replaces her beliefs with ritual and mumbo-jumbo. He uses loneliness as a tool, and sexual attraction as bait.

This is not a tale of ghosts. It is a tale of how easily the human mind, weakened by loss guilt and shame, can be bent. The film shows how repetition, isolation, and suggestion can break down reason. It is not unlike the methods used in darker institutions - prisons, institutions, cults - where obedience is extracted not by force, but by erosion of the self.

The actors do what they can. They are not great, but they are honest. The dialogue is sometimes clumsy, serving exposition more than character. Yet the film moves quickly, and dignity is preserved. It is not art, but it is truth.

This film is for those who study belief, who ask why people cling to illusions, and how grief can become a weapon. It is not comforting. It is not popular. But it is necessary. In a world where deception is often rewarded, it reminds us that truth must be defended - even when it is unwelcome, even when it is ignored.

 

 

Perry Mason 176: Donkeys, District Attorneys, and the Price of Respectability

Note: Erle Stanley Gardner’s background gave him two ways of looking at small-town life. Because he grew up in mining towns, he saw how power often came from money, reputation, and social position rather than from official authority. Later, as a lawyer, he saw how these local power structures could affect the courts, especially when an outsider was accused of a crime. These ideas appear in several Perry Mason novels: powerful local groups protect themselves, outsiders are treated with suspicion, and justice often requires someone from outside the community to step in.

Donkeys, District Attorneys, and the Price of Respectability: Crime in the Small-Town Middle Class

In these three non-Mason novels, Gardner explores the connection between law, reputation, and money in small towns and rural communities. Everyone knows everyone else, and people are very aware of what their neighbors think of them. Most characters are neither rich nor poor. They belong to the lower middle or middle class, and their social position can easily be lost. Because of this, justice is affected by gossip, reputation, fear, and the desire to protect one’s place in the community. Gardner is especially interested in people whose small amount of money and social standing makes them determined to appear respectable.

In The Case of the Backward Mule (1946), Gardner sets the story in a farming community where property means more than simply owning something. The mule is somewhat comic, but the argument over it becomes very serious. Ownership represents independence, respectability, and a person’s standing in the community. The farmers and property owners are not wealthy, but they have enough to lose. A dispute that might seem unimportant to an outsider therefore becomes very important because it threatens both their livelihoods and their reputations.

The Doug Selby novels explore the same problem from another angle. In The D.A. Calls It Murder (1937), reputation is almost a form of money. Shopkeepers, clerks, secretaries, and other working people fear scandal because gossip can destroy a person’s standing even before the truth is known. Selby may be the district attorney, but even he has to deal with local pressures. Justice becomes difficult because people who claim to respect the law are also frightened of scandal and worried about protecting themselves.

The D.A. Breaks an Egg (1949) shows how fragile this social order can be. The Lennox family wants to appear decent and law-abiding, but their position is insecure. They are not wealthy enough to feel safe, and they fear falling into poverty or disgrace. This is an important Gardner theme: people sometimes break rules not because they are naturally dishonest, but because they are afraid of losing their family, income, or reputation. Their questionable choices are defensive rather than predatory. They bend the rules because they fear ruin, not because they want power over others.

Taken together, these novels suggest that small-town justice is not as simple or innocent as it may appear. It is shaped by property, money, gossip, reputation, and the fear of losing social status. Gardner is less interested in obvious villains than in the everyday compromises of ordinary people. Respectability protects them, but it also traps them. The truth matters, but so does the price people may have to pay for admitting it.

Perry Mason 175: TCOT Worried Waitress

Note: Although this 1966 entry lacks the fireworks of Mason’s most celebrated cases, it fascinates for its subtext. Gardner probes enduring issues - the ethics of witness coaching and the clash of poverty and pride - while reminding us that justice is not a flawless machine but a fragile human process, vulnerable to error and manipulation.  

The Case of the Worried Waitress - Erle Stanley Gardner

Rules were rules, and in the restaurant business they were ironclad: servers were forbidden to solicit professional advice from customers. But Katherine Ellis - Kit to her friends - was desperate. She had no one else to turn to. So when Perry Mason and Della Street finished lunch, Mason left his card beneath the plate with a message that was pure Perry: “My usual fee is ten dollars. Under the plate there’s a tip of eleven.” It was a gesture that broke the monotony of routine and set in motion a chain of events that would test human frailty and the criminal justice system.

Kit’s story was simple - and complicated. An orphan, penniless, living with an aunt who pinched pennies until they screamed. The woman hoarded cash in hatboxes, skimped on food, and even posed as blind to sell pencils outside a factory. Mason’s instincts flared. “Get out,” he told Kit. “If that money disappears, you’ll take the fall.” But the warning came too late. The aunt was assaulted, robbed, and left for dead. Kit was arrested.

The case should have been straightforward. It wasn’t. There was Mildred Aldie, a blind woman who seemed to impersonate Kit’s aunt for reasons no one could explain. There was Stuart Baxley, a family friend with too much interest in the aunt’s fortune - and a willingness to plant evidence. And there were two subplots colliding like runaway trains: two wives battling over a dead man’s estate and rival factions fighting for control of a corporation.

Gardner wove these threads into a tapestry of greed, deception, and human frailty.

Yet for all the complexity, something was missing: urgency. Even Lieutenant Tragg, who made the arrest, seemed unconvinced of Kit’s guilt. He looked the other way when Mason bent the rules - technically legal maneuvers that skirted the edge of propriety. The trial, usually Gardner’s crescendo, felt muted. Hamilton Burger prosecuted with the resignation of a man who knew he was destined to lose - again.

The real drama lies not only in the verdict but in the social and legal systems, and the human beings – a.k.a. imperfect thinkers - who keep them running. In that sense, the novel offers something rarer than courtroom theatrics: a glimpse into the machinery of law and the secrets that shape its outcomes.

The Nones of Exploitation: Marihuana

Marihuana
1936 / 0:50
Tagline: “See the Truth about the Smoke from Hell!”
[internet archive]

It is a curious thing - one might say a melancholy one - that in the detritus of antique amusement, amidst the refuse heaps of what passes for cinema, there should glimmer, now and again, a spark of something nearly noble. I speak here not of a work wrought with care or conscience, but of a base and tawdry spectacle - an exploitation film, vulgar in its intentions, slipshod in its execution, and yet, by some accident of human truth, not wholly devoid of merit.

Observe, if you will, the young woman - her foot turning idly, joyously, upon the running board of a battered motorcar, her face alight with the unselfconscious radiance of youth and affection. It is a gesture so slight, so unstudied, and yet it speaks with the eloquence of a Turner sky: of vitality, of freedom, of the fleeting grace of being alive and beloved. Such a moment, though framed by the crude machinery of commerce, is not unworthy of art.

Elsewhere, the drama descends - nay, collapses - into the grotesque. A quarrel between mother and daughter, rendered with the subtlety of a cudgel, culminates in the girl’s flight from home. But even here, amid the shrillness, there is a gesture of pathos: she pauses, embraces her lapdog with a tenderness that betrays the ache of her decision. It is the last act of a soul not yet hardened by the world’s indifference.

Later still, as she descends into what the moderns call “degradation” - a word too often used without understanding - she casts a glance, guilt-ridden and persuasive, upon her sister. It is not the look of a villainess, but of a soul in torment, aware of its fall and yet unable to arrest it. That such a moment should arise in a film otherwise so bereft of moral imagination is, I declare, astonishing.

But alas, these are but fragments - pearls cast into a mire of incoherence. The film, taken as a whole, is a shambles. Its narrative is as a house built upon sand; its characters, mere shadows of intention; its climax, a thing so mishandled that it leaves the viewer neither stirred nor satisfied. The acting is passable, the direction perfunctory, and the moral vision - if such a term may be applied - entirely absent.

And yet, even in this mire, there is revelation. For it is only by witnessing the debasement of form that we come to appreciate its true expression. Just as the sight of a polluted stream makes us long for the mountain spring, so too does this film, in its failure, remind us of what cinema might be when guided by truth, beauty, and reverence for the human soul.

As for the final descent - four young women, stripped of both clothing and dignity, frolicking in the Pacific surf - it is not merely a violation of the Hays Code, but of decency itself. That such imagery should be offered as entertainment is a sign, not of liberation, but of cultural exhaustion.

Let us then take from this experience not pleasure, but instruction. Let us remember that art, even when sullied, may still reflect the divine spark - and that the worst of pictures may yet contain a moment worth saving.

 

Perry Mason 174: Mason & DBT

Note: Raymond Burr’s Perry Mason was the still point in a world spinning with agitation and half-truths. Great actors truly listen, and Burr gave us a lawyer who listened - not perfunctorily, but with an attentive calm that made silence feel electric. Fans remember the courtroom fireworks, but I’d argue the most remarkable moments were often in the jail cell interviews, where Burr revealed that Mason’s real power lay in restraint. Burr gave fellow actors space to sustain a scene, as Mason absorbed his client’s story like a sponge - intently, mindfully. Burr’s Mason didn’t interrupt; he inhaled. And when he exhaled, it was with the quiet authority of a man who had glimpsed the light and stillness he could bring to a client’s crisis, even as the police misconstrued evidence and assumed guilt.

Perry Mason Through the Lens of Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT)

Perry Mason, the iconic defense attorney from Erle Stanley Gardner’s novels and the subsequent TV adaptation, exemplifies traits that can be examined through the framework of Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT). DBT emphasizes four core skill sets: mindfulness, distress tolerance, emotion regulation, and interpersonal effectiveness - all of which resonate with Mason’s approach to law and life.

Mindfulness is central to Mason’s investigative style. He remains fully present during client interviews and witness’ testimony in the courtroom. This ability to listen and discern while suspending judgment allows him to identify inconsistencies and details others overlook and craft compelling defenses. His mindful attention to nuance mirrors DBT’s principle of “wise mind,” balancing logic and emotion - a hallmark of Mason’s success. Staying present, being here, now, also reinforces courage:

Make up your mind to one thing, Mrs. Warren. After water has run downstream and over the dam, you can't find any way on earth of getting it back upstream and over the dam a second time. Take things as they come. Concentrate on the present, forget the past. (TCOT Phantom Fortune)

Distress & Frustration Tolerance emerges in Mason’s composure under pressure. Clients charged with Murder-One are playing for life-or-death stakes, yet Mason never succumbs to aggravation or alarm or frustration. Instead, he employs problem-solving strategies akin to DBT’s “radical acceptance,” acknowledging the stern reality of high-risk situations while focusing on actionable steps. For instance, when evidence seems damning, level-headed Mason reframes the challenge as an opportunity to uncover the truth that is truth and refute the DA’s truth that just seems like the truth.

“A man can nearly always think his way out of any situation in which he finds himself. It’s merely a paraphrase of the old saying that where there’s a will there’s a way.” (TCOT Sulky Girl)

Emotion Regulation is evident in Mason’s controlled demeanor. While passionate about justice, he tempers his emotions to maintain clarity. DBT teaches skills like “checking the facts,” which Mason intuitively applies - choosing calm deliberation over flailing. His ability to regulate emotions not only maintains his credibility but also reassures anxious clients, reinforcing trust.

My experience has always been that these things look much worse than they actually are. In fact, I tell my clients that nine times out of ten they can say to themselves, 'Things are never as bad as they seem.' I admit things look black, but we're going to keep fighting, and don't you get discouraged. (TCOT Beautiful Beggar)

“Things look bad and we are still capable of fighting back” is a solid DBT “both/and” statement that encourages holding two seemingly opposing truths at the same time, moving away from rigid “either/or” thinking. It calls to mind Marine General Puller saying at the Chosin Reservoir, “We’ve been looking for the enemy for some time now. We’ve finally found him. We’re surrounded. That simplifies things.”

Finally, Interpersonal Effectiveness defines Mason’s relationships with clients, colleagues, witnesses, persons of interest, and even adversaries like Lt. Tragg. He navigates complex social dynamics – such as asking complete strangers nosey questions - with assertiveness and empathy, embodying DBT’s goal of showing respect for people while achieving his own objectives – milking them for information before the cops do.

“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." (TCOT Curious Bride)

Like some DBT therapists advise their clients today, Mason knows that people-watching can be a mindful activity that fosters empathy.

“I like to watch people around a depot. It’s fascinating. You can see so much of human nature that way. People aren’t on their guard when they’re dead-weary or when they’re completely removed from their usual environment. A person who lives here in the city feels he’s on his own home ground, no matter what part of the city he’s in, unless it’s the depot. But the minute he walks into the depot he’s started, so to speak, on a complete change of environment and he lets his guard down.” (TCOT Lonely Heiress)

Viewed through DBT, Perry Mason exemplifies psychological flexibility and effective people skills. His success stems not merely from legal acumen but from behaviors aligned with DBT principles: mindful observation, tolerance of uncertainty, emotional balance, and effective interaction. These qualities position Mason as more than a fictional lawyer; he becomes a role model of adaptive functioning under constant challenges - a testament to the enduring relevance of DBT skills in helping  people navigate problems from addictions and cutting to pushing people away and overthinking unto paralysis.