Originally published: 1933

Review of the reprint of the edition published by Morrow, New York.

Aeonian Press, 1976

"Autumn sun beat against the window."

"Perry Mason sat at the big desk."

Thus begins the Case of the Velvet Claws,  the very first Perry Mason novel. There is no build-up, no explanations, no lengthy descriptions, no setting the foundations for a series of novels that would run for 40 years. Gardner wastes no time on useless prose. We are instantly placed front-row-center to the action and the details are only gradually revealed.

Most of the elements we are familiar with are present: Della Street is introduced on the very first page. Paul Drake is summoned on page 14 and appears in person on page 22. But Hamilton Burger and Arthur Tragg are absent: they do not appear until much later in the series.

These early novels, set in the 1930s, make strange reading in the 1990s. This is a very different world we are dealing with: the nation is only four years out of a depression, World War II is on the horizon, Packard automobiles are still running on the streets (and some of them have floor starters), and the relationship between players in the criminal justice system is tense and suspicious.

The District Attorney and Police are feared rather than respected. Persons falling into their hands can expect brutal interrogations, confinement without recourse, and coerced confessions. The police officers are corrupt and not above taking bribes — Perry himself pays a detective $25 for inside information and treats it as business as usual — and evidence is routinely lost or destroyed if it might result in an acquittal.

Perry’s relationship to the legal establishment is very shaky. His office is small: only himself and Della. He is a maverick; a loner; and a fighter. He is not the well-known figure whose mere name would stop conversations. He is treated throughout the novel as a sort of second-string man. The District Attorney is annoyed with him but does not view him as a threat. Even Paul Drake treats him as more of a client than a friend.

His relationship with his clientele is even more uneasy. The heroine, if you can call her that, is almost compulsively deceitful throughout the story. She lies to him, attempts to vamp him, refuses to follow his instructions, argues with him, and even betrays him to the police. He gives it right back in kind. He threatens, he shouts, he grimly extracts as much of a fee as he can. But always he doggedly maintains his integrity and fights for his clients regardless.

And fight for his clients he does, literally. Perry engages in quite a few fisticuffs and intimidates many people with the threat of his physical prowess throughout the story. He throws people out of his office, punches a gutter-journalist, and throws a would-be bouncer against a wall. This is the original Perry Mason: tough and terse.

The actual story is fairly simple: a spoiled rich woman (an object of great contempt in the post-depression era) gets herself into a blackmail situation and winds up being accused of murder. Oddly enough, there is no trial in this first installment: instead Perry is engaged in a mad rush to solve the case before the police wind up framing his client. But this summation does not do Gardner’s narrative justice: he almost forcibly carries the reader on a wild ride with countless twists and turnings. The pace does not let up until the final paragraph.

An insight into Della Street’s history is mentioned: she apparently came from a family that lost all their money in the stock market crash of 1929 and now has been forced to earn a living. For that reason, her antipathy with the heroine, who treats everyone with haughty condescension, is almost vicious. They nearly come to blows but Perry intervenes.

Perry and Della’s relationship is also put to the torch. After he apparently has sold out his client to the police, Della and Paul refuse to even speak to him. Paul’s reaction is no surprise, but Della’s disturbs him no end. Her loss of faith seems to take something out of his soul and for a while he is immobilized. But not for long.

The novel concludes with Perry and his client carrying their antagonistic dynamic right to the end. He firmly sets her in her place and she is dismissed. As she leaves, the novel dovetails to the next in the series and his next client is introduced:
the Sulky Girl.

Originally published: 1933

Review of the reprint of the edition published by Morrow, New York.

Aeonian Press, 1976

'The gavel of Judge Markham banged sharply on the desk.

"Counselor," he said, "you will please refrain from personalities and address your remarks to the court, rather than to opposing counsel."

"Your pardon, Your Honor," said Perry Mason, but his voice held no trace of humility, and his eyes twinkled with amusement.

The second published Perry Mason novel, the Case of the Sulky Girl, seems much closer to the Perry Mason scenarios we are familiar with. He still is a somewhat dark character who is often as intimidating to his clients as he is to his antagonists. (Something of this comes through in the very first television episode, The Case of the Restless Redhead but is was quickly abandoned.)

Most of the standard elements are present: the opening scene featuring the client who only reveals enough to whet our appetites for more, the confrontation with the future victim, the discovery of the body, the inevitable chase and arrest, and finally, the courtroom drama.

Of course, this is only a bare outline. Gardner provides much more. A young woman who is forbidden to marry under a peculiar trust fund proviso marries anyway but still wants the money. (Interestingly enough in the TV adaptation the girl would like to get married but hasn't actually done so.) The guardian, of course, will not release the funds under any circumstances.

One would suspect that so strong-willed a woman would simply tell the guardian to keep the money and be damned but she is the victim of a blackmailer and is desperate. The guardian is found murdered. The evidence points to a third party at first, but the suspicion gradually shifts until she is engulfed and arrested. Perry not only has to deal with clearing her and her husband, he also has to deal with a crooked lawyer and the blackmailer. And behind all these lurk the murderer.

As in the first novel, Perry is regarded as a maverick and a renegade. His name does not command respect, his practice is small. Paul Drake is still treated as a business associate rather than a close friend. Gardner does introduce another face in the office, Frank Everly, his timid law-clerk but Perry still basically carries the show himself.

The physical violence is somewhat toned down. The only notable combat occurs during his confrontation with the aforementioned shady lawyer who feels that Perry, being fellow outcast, isn't above bending his ethics to make a fee. (His ignorance is quickly cleared up, to say the least.)

Perry's nemesis at the counsel table in the trial scene is Claude Drumm. He is not, however, identified as the "District Attorney" but as the "Chief Trial Deputy." Unlike Hamilton Burger, Mr. Drumm has no respect for Perry's legal abilities and views him simply as an affront to the legal profession.

Some of this is justified: Perry's strategy makes more use of psychology than legal technique. He raises his voice, leaps from his seat, points his finger, is suddenly calm, and runs a gamut of emotions while trying to keep his client from a conviction. There are the usual objections and technicalities of course, but the way things are said is still much more emphasized than what words are used.

There is a moment during the trial where Gardner suddenly drops the narrative and speaks in his own voice from his experiences as a lawyer: the eyes of the Jury determine the verdict. If the eyes of the jury remain fixed on the defendant without wavering, the defendant is lost. (He uses this same theme again in the Case of the Crimson Kiss.) Most of Perry's dramatic legerdemain is an attempt to divert those eyes away from his client.

The novel ends in a more traditional style than the first: there is the usual wrap-up scene in the office with the penitent client. For once he accepts the apologies offered and they part amicably (contrast this with the burned bridges of the Case of the Velvet Claws). And, as before, the narrative dovetails into the next novel: the Case of the Lucky Legs.