Note: By the late Fifties, Erle Stanley Gardner had become something of a cultural phenomenon: not just a bestselling author but a brand, a guarantee, a machine that had to keep producing Perry Mason on schedule. His audience wanted the same flavor every time, hot off the grill - no experimenting, no departures, no late-style eccentricities. And the publishers weren’t about to encourage risk in a franchise that paid everyone’s rent. The Mason novels under review come from that era, when Gardner was a master craftsman caught in the velvet chokehold of his own popularity, repeating the enchanter’s tricks with professional polish even as age and fatigue gently tugged at the cords of the Dictaphone.
Perry Mason in the Sixties: The Middling
The Case of the Bigamous Spouse (1961)
Gwynn Elston suspects her friend’s husband, Felting Grimes, is living a double
life after noticing uncanny resemblances and surviving a possible poisoning.
Mason advises caution, but Felting is soon shot dead, and Gwynn becomes the
prime suspect after police trick her into talking. The bigamy hook snaps, the
identity tangles have real energy, and - for once - Mason must think his way
forward rather than glide in on his usual omniscient hunches. To my mild dismay,
the standard 1961 décor is present: characters sturdy as manila folders and
dialogue dictated while lending half an ear to Vin Scully calling the Dodgers.
Yet compared to its weary Sixties neighbors, the novel showcases strong women,
colorful side characters, and a brief but welcome flicker of the old Gardner
magic.
The Case of the Reluctant Model (1962)
Millionaire art collector Otto Olney wants to sue critic Colin Durant for
calling one of his paintings a fake. Mason advises against it but senses a
deeper con involving Durant and reluctant model Maxine Lindsay. When Mason and
Della Street discover a corpse in Maxine’s apartment - and Maxine missing - Tragg
and Burger resume their long‑standing irritation with Mason’s talent for
stumbling into bodies. The art‑world angle promises glamor but mostly delivers
that unsettling Tiki mask on Mason’s office wall. Granted, the plot moves
briskly, Mason actually does investigative labor rather than omnisciently
materializing answers, and the characters - flat as pancakes - serve their
purpose.
The Case of the Mischievous Doll (1963)
Dorrie Ambler arrives terrified, flashing an appendectomy scar as proof of
identity. After gunshots at the airport, she’s arrested and unmasked as heiress
Minerva Minden. The mysterious doll with hidden clues, switched identities, and
tangled domestic backstories give the book a pulpy, slightly eccentric flavor -
exactly the sort of Sixties oddity Gardner sometimes used to jolt Mason out of
his signature unflappability. The premise intrigues even as the characters stay
thin and the plotting mechanical. The investigation wanders with too many
interviews and too little narrative zip, and the ending resolves everything
abruptly enough to make readers suspect Gardner was writing this as a treatment
for the TV script it was soon to become. Yet the prose stays clean and
professional, even if inspiration is in short supply.
The Case of the Blonde Bonanza (1962)
Here Gardner gives us Perry Mason on a strict budget of plot, energy, and
possibly sleep. The dieting‑resort premise promises fizzy fun, but the novel
arrives thin - ironically the only thing in the story that does. Characters
drift through like underpaid extras, the mystery holds together with the
literary equivalent of staples. The silver linings: the pages turn, the prose
hustles, and Mason performs his contractual quota of cleverness. Not dreadful -
simply Gardner pressed for time and somehow getting the job done. Trollope
wasn’t the only writer who viewed fiction as a job rather than a mystical
calling.
The Case of the Phantom Fortune (1964)
This entry offers another Sixties amble through the Perryverse, where fortunes
appear, disappear, and reappear with the solidity of a stage magician’s rabbit.
The premise - mysterious inheritances, vanishing assets, rummy heirs - has
potential, but Gardner handles it with the airy commitment of a man trying to
finish so he can go fishing. The plot rambles amiably, characters shuffle in
with the enthusiasm of tax auditors, and Mason solves matters simply by knowing
more than the author bothers to reveal. Not truly bad, just exasperatingly
thin: a phantom fortune indeed, flickering briefly before vanishing into
deadline smoke. On the plus side, the novel reads fast - always Gardner’s
indestructible superpower.
The Case of the Beautiful Beggar (1965)
This 1965 novel finds Gardner guiding Mason through another Sixties contraption
involving an attractive young woman in peril. Daphne Shelby seeks help when her
uncle’s bank account is drained and scheming relatives declare him incompetent in
order to seize his assets. Mason battles the conservatorship and recovers funds
through legal maneuvers, but the later murder and trial feel obligatory rather
than inspired. The premise - reflecting aging Gardner’s sharp interest in elder
exploitation - is compelling, but the plot shuffles where it should jog, the
supporting cast could be swapped out like AA batteries, and the wrap‑up arrives
with Gardner’s usual abruptness. The upside is that the pages flip, Mason gets
his licks in, and the book passes painlessly - late Gardner’s minimal but
reliable standard of excellence. Or, if you will, okayness
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