The Case of the Unknown Parentage

And so we arrive at March 11th, the anniversary of Erle Stanley Gardner's death in 1970. He gave us the wonderful characters who made up the original Core Five and wrote all the original novels first bringing them to life. He lost control over his characters for the 1930s films and the 1940s radio series and demanded better for the television series. Whether or not one agrees with every decision he made for the television series (and I don't always), I am thrilled for him that he finally had and kept control over his beloved series and characters for the best-loved media adaptation. Regardless of whether one wishes the show had tried some other paths every now and then, Mr. Gardner apparently knew what he was doing by making and keeping his rules; the formulaic nature of the series remained the same for nine popular seasons.

I wonder what he would have thought of the idea of The New Perry Mason, had he lived to see it. Much of the crew was still the same, and they tried to be faithful to the original series in both the scripts and the characters' behaviors, but some of the performances still fell very flat. (I find it both amusing and terrible that Monte Markham reportedly jeered at Raymond Burr's portrayal of Perry, yet clearly tried to imitate his speech pattern in the episodes!) I like to think Mr. Gardner would have complained about some of the casting, at least. But who knows. Maybe he would have liked it all. Or maybe he would have disliked it all.

In any case, I am, as always, very grateful to him for his imagination, his skill at weaving mysteries, and his intriguing characters. Because of Mr. Gardner's writings, we have the wonderful Perry Mason television series to watch and enjoy and the characters are still fondly remembered decades later. All thanks to whatever inspired Mr. Gardner to start writing The Velvet Claws. Thank you, Mr. Gardner.

I have fallen very far behind in watching my Perry DVDs, even though I was trying to keep up with MeTV's nighttime schedule. I'm in season 6 and am picking and choosing my way through the season by mainly selecting episodes I rarely watch. I suddenly discovered something very odd. While every season of Perry has at least one episode where a child's parentage is questioned, kept secret, etc., season 6 has an explosion of such episodes!

To demonstrate my point, here is a list I've compiled of all such episodes I can pick out from a titles-only episode guide. If anyone else can think of more, feel free to remind me in the comments!

Season 1

The Baited Hook (Daughter's true parentage was the reason for the murder.)

The Empty Tin (The initial mystery revolves around trying to find a man's real daughter.)

Season 2

The Stuttering Bishop (The mystery involves a girl being told her parentage is not what she thought.)

Season 3

The Watery Witness (The initial mystery concerns a girl trying to find out if she is the daughter of movie star Lorna Thomas.)

Season 4

The Wandering Widow (A woman tries to keep her son from learning about his horrid real father.)

The Nine Dolls (Perry tries to find a young orphan's identity.)

The Duplicate Daughter (Twins separated at birth.)

Season 5

The Borrowed Baby (Perry tries to find the family of a baby left in his office.)

Season 6

The Unsuitable Uncle (A girl's true father's identity is kept secret from her.)

The Stand-In Sister (Confusion over which man's daughter survived a car crash.)

The Polka-Dot Pony (Two girls are discovered when searching for a woman's long-lost child.)

The Bluffing Blast (A young woman shows up claiming to be the daughter of a man who supposedly didn't have any children.)

The Skeleton's Closet (A woman tries to prevent the news of her children's real father leaking out.)

Season 7

The Nebulous Nephew (Confusion over whether a boy is really a long-lost nephew or a con artist.)
The Simple Simon (A large part of the mystery stems from the fact that the defendant has a son somewhere and believes him to be one person when he is in actuality another.)

Season 8

A Place Called Midnight (A girl is distressed over being an orphan with no known family name. Not a major plot point, but since it is there and it's a large part of the character's emotional makeup, I'll include it.)

Season 9

The Fugitive Fraulein (Trying to retrieve the correct granddaughter from behind the Iron Curtain. This one may be stretching it a bit, but there is an attempt to confuse the girl's identity.)

Wow. So why was that such a popular plotline in season 6? It's the only season to have more than three such episodes, unless there's others I've forgotten about.

One possibility would be that the same person wrote them and it's a plot device they like. Well, among the five season 6 episodes, two were written by Robert C. Dennis, two by Samuel Newman, and one by Robert Leslie Bellem. Every episode is thankfully extremely different in the plot details, which is why I assume this was allowed to happen and every script greenlit, but it's still rather curious to suddenly realize that so many episodes had the concept of unknown parentage in one season!

In the end, I suppose there's no real answer as to why. For some reason, the writers' inspiration just traveled on that path that year. Most of the season 6 episodes with that plot device are not among my favorites or semi-favorites, aside from The Polka-Dot Pony, but I've liked the others a lot better on this viewing.

Richard Anderson's book!

For the past afternoon, I have done something I have wanted to do ever since the rumors started circling a couple of years ago.

I have delightedly devoured Richard’s book.

It’s a fascinating treasure trove of anecdotes from throughout Richard’s amazing life, covering early experiences, the golden days of Hollywood, and of course, the television series that Richard has become so famous for. As near as I can tell, it’s transcribed directly from the interviews with Alan Doshna. I can hear Richard’s voice in my mind, narrating every page like it’s a cozy fireside visit with friends. He’s every bit the warm, friendly, and charming person I’ve pictured him to be.

While I wish the book was longer and that the sections on especially Perry were more detailed, it’s a wonderful read that every classic movie and television buff should pick up. And there are some great little anecdotes about working on Perry. He has nothing but lovely things to say about everyone.

I don’t want to detail any of the contents of the book, as I want everyone to go out and get one for themselves, but there are a couple of little tidbits I want to point out. (Get the book to read the details.)

- Erle Stanley Gardner liked Richard’s portrayal of Steve Drumm. While I don’t agree with many of Mr. Gardner’s decisions, this is certainly one I’m thrilled about.

- Richard indicated that perhaps he would have liked to play Steve in the reunion movie. He was very pleased with the part he got, but it definitely sounded like it wasn’t his decision to not play Steve in it.

It’s really a treasure to have something available from one of the only surviving members of the steady Perry cast, not to mention, someone who experienced so much of Hollywood during the classic days. It’s really intriguing and exciting to hear about all the people he met and the ones he struck up friendships with. To top it off, there are many beautiful pictures from Richard’s personal collection! I love seeing shots of Richard through the years in some of his assorted and very unique roles.

The book is available here: http://www.bearmanormedia.com/index.php?route=product/product&product_id=802 as well as on Amazon. I wonder if Richard will be doing any book-signings or promotions? I wish he’d come to my area!

The Careless Kitten: Book vs. Episode

March 11^th is the anniversary of Erle Stanley Gardner’s death. I always find it both sad and eerie that he and William Hopper died only a few days apart.

He left us such a lasting legacy with his Perry books and everything that resulted from them. I wonder what he thought of the television-only episodes when they began to emerge on the series? I suppose he must have been okay with them, at least enough to approve them, since he insisted on that right throughout the entire series run.

While it is exasperating that he never saw fit to approve such interesting ideas as scripts where Hamilton won (hopefully only if the client was guilty; it would be too depressing otherwise, unless Perry could overturn it as in The Deadly Verdict), as a fellow writer I do have to respect his insistence on having things the way he wanted. He already knew what it was like to lose control of his characters more than once, with both the 1930s movies and the radio series. Naturally he would want to take steps to ensure that it would not happen again.

I am intrigued that apparently he was alright with Perry and Hamilton becoming friends, as they steadily did throughout the series’ run. I wonder whether he downright supported that idea or if he just loosened up and decided to allow it while being more or less indifferent to it overall. I remember Barbara Hale saying that he didn’t want Della sitting on Perry’s desk, exclaiming that a proper secretary would never do that. But it happens multiple times throughout the series. I wonder what caused him to allow it after all.

Last night after I watched MeTV’s fun episode (it’s always a treat to watch David McCallum’s guest-spot!), I had the urge to get out my recorded copy of The Careless Kitten, which is one of the few later episodes based on one of the original books. I wanted to see the adorable kitty as well as to review one particular guest-star’s role. It was the sole appearance of British character actor Hedley Mattingly on the series, and I’m coming to be rather fond of him from watching him play opposite my beloved Christopher Cary more than once.

I wonder how much of the episode works with the book’s plot. I’ll have to bring up the book version on that Indian site Fedora found with all of the books available in English PDF files.

One thing I’m sure the book version won’t have is the great scene where Hamilton comes to Perry’s office and outright says he’s coming as a friend, worried because Perry is poking into the case all over the place and Andy is getting bent out of shape over it. Hamilton pleads with Perry to leave things alone, and Perry says he’ll consider it. Of course, however, he keeps on.

One difference I know of for a certainty is that the cat’s breed is different. In the books, the cats are always Persians, while on television they’re always Siamese. Somehow a Siamese seems a more suitable breed for such a mischievous little rascal, but maybe that’s just heavy influence from the hilarious Disney movie That Darn Cat!

Now I’m giving the book version a brief run-through via the summary on Storrer’s site, as I was just too curious now that I started thinking about it. It looks like for the most part, the characters keep their names in both versions. That’s certainly unusual. The kitten’s name is changed (Monkey on television instead of Amber Eyes) and Helen’s boyfriend’s first name in the book is Jerry. There’s a character called George, whose role I am unsure of. I believe he was omitted from the episode.

The most striking difference, character-wise, seems to be that the butler is not an Englishman, but an Oriental. I always thought Cosmo was a very odd choice of name for the butler on television. Now that I see the butler’s name was Komo in the book, perhaps it makes a bit more sense. They picked something rather similar.

And oh my, the plot sounded like it was fairly well lifted from the book, until chapter 11. When someone shoots at Helen’s boyfriend in the book, he’s hurt far more seriously.

Another thing the same in both is Thomas’s ill feelings towards the butler. In the book, he keeps trying to insist that the butler poisoned the cat and Matilda, which is really disgusting since he knows the truth. In the episode, we’re left with either believing that the butler really is a creepy sadist as Thomas says or believing that Thomas is prejudiced. Considering everything that Thomas is doing, I find it rather difficult to believe him about anything. The butler shows no indications of being a sadist; the kitten rather seems to like him, snuggling against him and even purring. (Yes, I’m sure I heard purrs!) Of course, that could simply be that the cat liked the actor rather than the character. But considering that Thomas even refers to him with a racial slur (“Limey”), I would have to say that he is just being unfair and has no real knowledge that the butler is a nasty sort. Perhaps, as in the book, he’s also trying to cast blame where he knows it doesn’t belong.

I rather liked the butler, honestly. He seemed perfectly nice to me. And he was the one played by the great character actor Hedley Mattingly, who was very capable of playing nasty characters as well as nice ones. If the butler was truly unpleasant, Hedley would have given some indication of it. He was a little short with Perry on the phone, true, but Matilda had just been taken to the hospital and he was shaken up about it. It was a touch of realism that he reacted on the phone the way he did.

A difference between the two versions is that once again, Della takes care of the kitty for a while, just like she does in the book version of The Caretaker’s Cat. The kitten gets into mischief and is discovered by Della and Tragg. Tragg then takes them both to headquarters.

And ah yes, Hamilton is definitely not friendly with Perry in the book. We also get to court, unlike in the episode. Della is the defendant. Apparently they’re in court not for Leech’s murder, but for Della having the kitten and Hamilton thinking she was hiding the missing and wanted Franklin Shore!

Thomas is killed via hit-and-run in the book. He and Matilda Shore being partners in their evil plan, and Matilda having killed Franklin, are the same. But those facts never come to light; Perry just tells it to Della in private.

I really don’t care for how in the books, it seems like a lot of times the solution is only revealed in private, instead of having the real culprits uncovered and punished. Sometimes the culprits are Perry’s clients and he’s perfectly okay with getting them off even if he knows they’re guilty. In this case, where neither crook was his client, I wonder why he chose to keep it all secret.

I suppose some book fans prefer Perry’s behavior in the books to his insistence on exposing the real killers and the clients always being innocent in the television series. I do think it would have been interesting for the clients to be guilty sometimes, but not for Perry to absolutely not care if they are. Naturally there are plenty of lawyers in real-life who wouldn’t care, so it’s a realistic touch, but it seems an odd trait for a lawyer to have when Gardner was writing the books to try to show lawyers in a better light.

I guess he must have been okay with those formulaic changes to the television series. Either that or he was simply informed that the censors would not allow it to be otherwise. It would be interesting to know which. What actually prompted such changes from the books? Was it the censors? Was it that they thought the character would be more likable and heroic that way? Something else?

I also wonder what prompted Perry and Hamilton to become friends. It was such a natural progression through the seasons, in that respect keeping something fluid amid all the formula. But they could have chosen to keep things in a more season 1 light. So why the change? As much as I love these and other changes, I’m still curious to know the reasons for them, since they make the series so different from the books.

Whichever one prefers, the series or the books, the series would of course not exist without the books. I will always be grateful to Erle Stanley Gardner for creating the original Core Five and their first adventures. Every time we watch the series, we’re ultimately celebrating Gardner’s genius.

The blog lives!

Oh dear. It’s terrible how long I’ve let it stretch without a post. If I’m not feeling ill, I’m lacking a topic or I’ve got so many other things I’m trying to do that the post slips away. But I ended up missing at least a couple of times when I fully intended to post.

I certainly intended to post on the 6^th, for instance—the anniversary of William Hopper’s death. And then today is the anniversary of Erle Stanley Gardner’s death. Both men, curiously and sadly enough, died the same year, 1970, days apart from each other.

They are two people so very key to Perry as we know it now. Naturally nothing would exist if Gardner hadn’t got his ideas for the books and started to write. And if anyone else had played Paul, the dynamics of the series would have been so very different indeed.

I usually like to recommend episodes or other work to watch on the memorial posts. It isn’t always easy thinking of good episode recommendations after a couple such posts! But last night I was watching a DVD copy of an episode I’d missed on MeTV last week and was thinking it would make a great recommendation.

I don’t recall really thinking about it before, but The Nervous Neighbor is really good as a Paul episode as well as a Hamilton episode (the latter of which I usually think of it as). It has some of Hamilton’s best scenes and some of Paul’s most extended screentime. The episode opens in Paul’s office, a very unusual thing, and Paul continues to be extremely prominent throughout the story as he takes Charles Fuller around town and investigates the strange case. Even after Mrs. Bradley’s hearing, when she would have likely also interacted with Perry a great deal, it’s Paul she calls in a panic when son Charles runs off to confront criminal Henry Clement. Normally it’s Perry the person calls, and then Perry either runs out himself or calls Paul to go (or they both go).

Usually episodes also feature scenes of Perry investigating, so it’s very interesting and different to see so much focus on Paul. There’s even that adorable sub-plot where we can see Paul seems to be hanging around the Golden Age Club quite a bit as he sleuths and is getting to know the people, especially Frances—whom he promises a dance with and fulfills that at the end.

It’s known that Raymond Burr was tiring of the role as the show went on and the writers deliberately tried to focus some of the later episodes more on other characters. Seasons 8 and 9 are definitely said to have that focus, and it’s apparent in several of them. The Nervous Neighbor is season 7, and I’m wondering if the focus on Paul was deliberate because of Raymond’s feelings too. But either way, it’s a wonderful episode choice to watch in remembrance of William Hopper.

The episode is just about perfect to me in every way. My only confusion is that once again there’s a title that I don’t fully understand. Who is “The Nervous Neighbor”? There’s certainly a lot of people running around in this episode who are nervous. Which one is considered the “neighbor”? And neighbor of whom? But in any case, it’s a minor quibble.

Generally I recommend reading the books in remembrance of Mr. Gardner. And while that is a logical idea, perhaps other things fans would like to do would be to watch a particular favorite adaptation of a book or to view The Final Fade-Out and see Mr. Gardner onscreen as the second judge.

One of these days I’m going to give that episode another viewing; while it never will be a favorite, the in-jokes are amusing and Richard Anderson has some very nice scenes. And it’s nice to know that so many of the bit parts and extras are people on the crew. In that respect, it’s a nice send-off to the series, as is the epilogue scene.

Farewell again to William Hopper and Erle Stanley Gardner, two people still very often thought of and missed.

I have several topics waiting in the wings; tentatively I’d considered combining this post with at least one of them, but I think it would be more proper to give them separate posts. Hopefully I can get back on-track with posting. I know I keep saying that, but it is an intention!

And a bit of Perry news: MeTV will show The Lost Love movie this Friday! Happy watching to the interested!

The Moth-Eaten Mink vs. The Sausalito Sunrise

I was considering getting this up on Thursday, but then I wasn’t feeling well and other things happened. I think I was able to devote more and better time to it now. And I’m hoping to get the schedule back to normal now! I have every intention of keeping this blog going.

I promised a comparison post with The Moth-Eaten Mink and The Sausalito Sunrise. I’ve talked a lot about the latter, but not often the former, except to briefly comment that I liked it better.

I imagine most people do. However, after reviewing both episodes shortly after each other, I’ve been having some differences in opinion.

The initial setting is different for each. I have no problem with either setting; the restaurant and the art museum are equally interesting places, considering the events that Perry and Della encounter at each.

In both, a young woman is in trouble and ends up hit by a car. She later disappears from the hospital and ends up with the man who knows her at her place of employment and has tried to help her. They both eventually end up accused of murder—one of the only times when there’s two defendants. (Other such times that I can think of are the remake, of course, and also The Elusive Element.)

In Mink, the titular mink becomes an object of interest, due to being stolen. In Sunrise, it’s the titular painting, and I’ve never seen The Sausalito Sunrise uncut, so I hope that when I eventually get to, there will be more explanation of exactly what the painting is and what its particular importance is (as opposed to the other stolen paintings).

One amusing scene opened up by the latter setting is Perry and Della at an art exhibit. They run into some bizarre modern art and some bizarre modern artists. Kooky artists are seen so frequently on the series that they probably deserve a post all their own.

An important event in both episodes is the unsolved murder of a policeman. But some of the details are intriguingly and intensely different. In Mink, Paul suddenly pulls the story out of the blue, showing it to Perry in a newspaper. The murder has been unsolved for an entire year. And now, suddenly, they have their first real break, with the murder gun being used again in the Moth-Eaten Mink case.

Contrast that with The Sausalito Sunrise, where it opens actually showing the events leading up to the poor policeman’s murder (minus the killer’s identity, of course)! It really involves the audience in the horror and tragedy and mystery of the case. It’s hard to get so involved in it in Mink, when Paul just brings up the matter and it’s little more than a newspaper story at first.

A month passes here, which makes more sense than a year considering the identity of the vengeful policeman looking for the killer, which is different for each episode. I’ll get to that in a minute.

The finding of the murder gun is also different. In Mink, Paul just so briefly mentions it. But in Sunrise, he is heavily involved in its discovery. He goes undercover as a trucker at the company where trucks keep getting hijacked. He goes up to San Francisco, nearly getting hijacked along the way and having to deal with a stowaway reporter who’s a friend of the murdered cop. While there, he finds the bus locker where the attacked girl’s art case is kept. The murder gun is inside the case and the police pounce, brought there by a mysterious anonymous tip about the case.

And hence, we finally come to the vengeful policeman looking for the cop killer. In Mink, the man is a character the audience has never met. He’s only around for that particular episode. He was the superior officer of the murdered man.

He’s also the killer. His vengefulness is all an act.

In Sunrise, the poor officer’s superior is still the killer, but he isn’t the one specifically depicted as vengeful. That role falls to someone the audience does know well, or at least, better than a oneshot character. His vengefulness is very real.

Once again, the later episode has done something to more deeply involve the audience. The vengeful sergeant in Mink isn’t really even seen that often (unless he has more scenes in the uncut version, which I don’t remember). A oneshot character can be very involving if they’re active enough in the plot, but this one just doesn’t seem to be. Hence, he’s not someone the audience is always consciously thinking about. He’s there for a scene or two, drops back into the background, and suddenly is coming after Perry after Perry starts to put together the truth about the guy being involved in assorted rackets and being the killer because the good cop found out.

In Sunrise, where the vengeful lieutenant is very active, frequently seen, and is Perry’s friend and a regular cast member to boot, it’s impossible to forget about him. One of the key issues to the whole plot is Steve Drumm’s quest to find the killer and Perry worrying about how bitter and vengeful he’s getting.

And this brings us to the climaxes. In Mink, Tragg is aware of Perry’s plot because Perry actually converses with him and brings him back to the office to wait with him. When the sergeant tries to shoot Perry, Perry knows Tragg is right there (although the audience doesn’t, until he starts to open the door). Tragg calls out, the creep whirls, shoots, and Tragg shoots back, hitting him in the arm. Furious and repulsed, Tragg snarls about how the honest police are trying to do their jobs and then slime like this guy comes along and makes a mess of his badge. He agrees with Perry to call an ambulance, but advises not to hurry. It’s totally one of Tragg’s best scenes, both the rescue and his subsequent speech.

In Sunrise, Perry has not told Steve of his plan. Perhaps he feels he can’t, with Steve so upset and angry, but also, he’s hoping that what he said to Steve during his cross-examination on the witness stand will get through and Steve will start to put the pieces together on his own. He does, and asks Della where Perry went.

The audience, however, knows nothing of this until after the fact (unless it’s a cut scene). All we see is Perry confronting the wretched dirty cop and the guy about to shoot. It really looks like Perry is done for (even though we know of course that somehow he won’t be killed). And suddenly, two shots ring out and the crumb drops dead. Only then is Steve seen on the stairs.

I adore the subsequent conversation they share, where Steve thanks Perry and Perry expresses amazement, since Steve saved Perry’s life. Steve elaborates that he’s thankful Perry kept trying to get through to him and finally got him on the right track about who the guilty party has to be—the policeman, managing to be on the case and cover up all the evidence wherever the good police would have normally found it. Steve wonders how Perry could put so much trust in Steve to come through, considering his angry and unthinking behavior. Perry says he knew he had the best thing in the world going for him—one good, honest cop.

Well, in the end, between Mink’s lesser involvement of the unsolved murder, the brief mention of the discovery of the gun, and the lesser involvement of the vengeful policeman, going up against very active involvement of all three elements in Sunrise, I kind of have to say, my tastes have swung more towards The Sausalito Sunrise. I prefer the more active approach and having a main character be the vengeful one. It certainly is a twist, though, to have the vengeful one in Mink be the killer. I don’t remember suspecting him at all the first time I recently saw Mink.

Most people are probably aware that The Moth-Eaten Mink was the first filmed episode, even though it aired as #13. And it is a true classic! Make no mistake about that. It’s one of my favorite season 1 episodes. It has very good interaction among the characters. Perry and Della and Perry and Paul get excellent amounts of screentime, and of course, Tragg gets to be awesome! That’s always something exciting. I just wish Hamilton had been in it more. He isn’t in Sunrise too much, either, for that matter, since the focus is more on Steve. Of course, I love that Steve gets the spotlight.

A brief difference in the episodes involving Hamilton is the judge’s attitude towards the way Hamilton wants to prosecute. Oddly enough, the judge in Mink is willing to consider Hamilton’s feelings that the murder of the policeman directly ties in with the more recent murder. In Sunrise, the judge refuses to allow Hamilton to bring in evidence for both murders and insists that he only focus on the policeman’s murder. Normally, I would think that the judge of the later episode would give Hamilton more latitude than the judge of a season 1 episode, but here, it’s just the opposite. Points for Mink.

One oddball thing about Mink is the epilogue. Perry, Della, and Paul are back at the restaurant and Perry is gratefully thanked by his friend for helping him and the girl get out of their mess. He asks about desserts and Perry says he’ll take anything … except a moth-eaten mink. It’s an amusing bit, and of course the mink was originally found at the restaurant, but it still sounds a bit strange, since a moth-eaten mink coat isn’t food at all. The show really does have some groan-worthy jokes sometimes, especially in earlier seasons. But that’s part of the charm.

And tomorrow marks the anniversary of Erle Stanley Gardner’s death in 1970, just several days after William Hopper died. It’s hard to believe that in 2013, it’s the 80^th year of Perry Mason existing in some form or another. I recommend watching The Case of the Velvet Claws, since that story was the first book. Or if you have the book, heck, read the book. I still plan to have a look at the books if I can track some down locally, despite my displeasure at how Hamilton is handled. Perry wouldn’t exist without the books, and even those of us who prefer the television series should always keep that in mind.

Thank you for another wonderful year of Perry, Mr. Gardner!

In Memoriam: Erle Stanley Gardner

I would certainly be remiss if I didn’t get up a tribute to the man who made everything Perry possible. And I thank Crystal Rose for having seen the piece on CBS this morning and letting me know.

It seems almost eerie, that less than a week after William Hopper’s death Erle Stanley Gardner passed away on March 11^th, 1970. He left a lasting legacy of not only novels about Perry and others, but everything in which the characters he created had a part.

I disagree with some of Mr. Gardner’s decisions concerning his formula for his Perry novels, but one can’t deny that regardless, those stories were immensely successful. They got off to a bit of a rocky start; however, the public quickly caught on and the books became wildly popular.

It was only several years after the first book was published that Warner Brothers came knocking, wanting to make Perry Mason movies. Their attempts were, by all accounts, abysmal. Mr. Gardner certainly wasn’t pleased. And I can’t say I care for Paul’s name change. But Perry/Della shippers are surely thrilled by at least one thing: the two tied the knot in one of the films. Now that’s something you’ll never see in any other branch of the franchise! (Except in fanfiction, of course.)

Mr. Gardner was understandably hesitant about bringing the characters to life in other formats after the movie fiasco. But he finally agreed, and was involved with the radio show when it came about. He tried writing scripts for it, but determined he did his best work in prose. The same thing happened with the television series years later.

The radio show's staff had their own ideas about how the show should go, ideas that Mr. Gardner largely did not like. But although smarting from his experience over losing control of the characters once again, he came to like the radio idea after all once a new writer came onboard. Apparently deciding he had learned his lesson, however, he proceeded to be very important to the television series’ casting and format years later. He had to approve each script. And (to my delight), when he saw Raymond Burr and William Talman trying out for the roles of Hamilton Burger and Perry Mason, respectively, he insisted they switch parts. And thus one of the greatest and most enduring on-screen rivalries (and later, friendships) was born.

Before he became famous as a writer, Mr. Gardner was a lawyer. Reportedly, he channeled some of his frustrations over the prosecutors he dealt with into the character of Hamilton Burger. I’ve long heard that the book Hamilton really has no redeeming qualities or scenes. (Although it is said that he is “honest, but stubborn”, if I remember right.) If it is true, then it makes me all the more impressed and thrilled that Mr. Gardner was willing to let the show’s writers and William Talman develop the character as much as they did. Going from being the books’ one-dimensional adversary to one of Perry’s most trusted friends is quite a path!

Another of Mr. Gardner’s decisions I quite agree with was not to drop romance into the series. He always refused to let a romantic relationship between Perry and Della be outright stated, much to the consternation of the shipper fans. But there are plenty of lovely bits that can be interpreted as either platonic or romantic, bringing, I feel, the best of both worlds. Everyone can imagine them just as they want.

I am intrigued to learn that Mr. Gardner’s Doug Selby books concern a district attorney as the protagonist. But in quite a different swing from Perry, the defense attorney is an out-and-out shyster! Even in his Perry books, at least Perry’s opponent was upright and never crooked (despite being, perhaps, a stereotypical prosecutor in other ways). I think I should like to read the Doug Selby books. I would also be interested in investigating some of the Perry books, if I ever chance to come upon them.

I love that CBS paid tribute to Mr. Gardner today on their morning broadcast. Whichever part of the Perry franchise is one’s favorite, we owe it all to the fact that in 1933, Erle Stanley Gardner wrote The Case of the Velvet Claws. And that he followed it up with another, and another. . . .

Thank you, Mr. Gardner, for 79 years of Perry Mason.