Perry Mason: The Authorship and Reproduction of a Popular Hero. Written by J. Dennis Bounds (Westport, CT: Greenwood, 1996, pp. xiv + 213) $55.00 (hardcover).

An earlier version of this review was posted online as CRTNET No. 1770.

Reviewed by
 
David Sutton
Auburn University


 

Part I

D.A. Hamilton Burger slumped into his chair, feeling as if someone had just punched him in the stomach. Months of work evaporated in front of his eyes. He watched numbly as Lt. Tragg and two bailiffs handcuffed his star witness and then led the former professional football player from of the courtroom. Everything was a blur. Where was the judge? Burger didn't remember her dismissing the charges against the defendant.

"How does Perry Mason do it?" Burger asked the air in front of him.

"Do what, Mr. Burger?" Ms. Tara Springwood, an assistant district attorney, asked while packing her briefcase.

"How did Perry Mason get our star witness to admit that he killed his ex-wife? And what are Bruno Maglis?"

"They're designer shoes. Italian, I believe," Springwood replied.

"What did our star witness tell Lt. Tragg about his shoes?"

Springwood flipped through the pages of a yellow legal pad. When she found the note, she read aloud, "Quote. I ain't never owned a pair of those ugly ass shoes. Unquote."

Burger half-listened to her answer as he watched the defendant's wife and two children all try to hug Perry Mason. After the teary-eyed family left, Burger rose from his chair and walked the five steps over to the defense table. He paused for a second before speaking. "Congratulations, Mr. Mason," Burger said, extending his right hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Burger," Perry Mason said. He grasped the D.A.'s hand and gave it a firm handshake.

"O.K., Mason, how did you do it? How did you find thirty photographs of my star witness wearing Bruno Magli shoes, the same type of shoes he denied ever owning, the same type of shoes that left bloody footprints at the murder scene?" Burger could hear the edge in his voice. It sounded desperate to him.

"I didn't find those photographs," Perry Mason replied, matter-of-factly. "Paul Drake found those pictures. I simply presented them as evidence in open court."

"One of these days, Mason, I am going to make one of your cases blow up in your face," Burger said, trying to give his voice a steely edge.

"As long as justice is served, then it really doesn't matter who wins," Perry Mason replied, his deep voice filled with a calm authority. He placed the last file folder in his briefcase and snapped the latch closed. Looking Burger directly in the eye, he said, "Isn't that what we here for, Mr. Burger, to see that justice is served? Now if you'll excuse me, I'm certain Della Street has a stack of work for me back at my office."

Burger took a step backward and let Perry Mason pass. He watched Mason walk down the aisle toward the rear of the courtroom. As Mason opened the door and stepped out into the hallway he was immediately surrounded by television anchorpersons and newspaper reporters. "Mr. Mason! Mr. Mason! Mr. Mason!" they shouted, pushing and shoving each other for a few extra inches.

"How does Perry Mason do it?" Burger asked the air again.
 

Part II

Back at his office, Burger poured another shot of tequila into his Los Angeles Dodgers souvenir coffee mug. He didn't approve of his staff drinking during normal office hours, but right now he didn't really care. The golden liquid burned all the way down to his stomach. As the last drop touched his tongue, he heard a knock at his door. "Come in," Burger said. For an instant he hoped it wasn't a journalist. In the next instant he decided he really didn't care.

"Are you feeling all right, Mr. Burger?" Tara Springwood asked as she took a step inside Burger's office.

"Come in, Springwood. Have a seat. Care for a shot of medicinal tequila?" He held up the bottle so she could read the label. "Nothing cures your ills quite like fermented cactus juice."

"Certainly, as long as it is for medicinal purposes," Springwood said as she sat in the brown leather chair across the desk from Burger.

Burger reached into his desk drawer and retrieved his favorite Los Angeles Lakers souvenir coffee mug. He poured some tequila into the mug and passed it across the desk to Springwood.

"And what ailment are we treating?" Springwood asked as she took the mug.

"The Perry Mason blues, Ms. Springwood." Burger said. "I've got a bad case of the Perry Mason blues."

"I think I may have an answer to that malady, Mr. Burger," Springwood said, placing a book on Burger's desk.

"What's this?" Burger picked up the book and read the title. "Perry Mason: The Authorship and Reproduction of a Popular Hero by J. Dennis Bounds (Westport, CT: Greenwood, 1996, pp. xiv + 213). So how does this scholarly tome on popular culture help me with my case of Perry Mason blues?"

"According to Professor Bounds, Perry Mason wins in court because he is supposed to win in court. It's a case of transmedia poetics, the heart of which is the examination of formulas across media," Springwood explained.

"What are you talking about, Springwood?" Burger asked.

"In the book, Professor Bounds gives a detailed historical recounting of how the character of Perry Mason has appeared in novels, films, radio dramas, and television," Springwood replied. "Each of these narrative formats has its individual production constraints as well as the historical/cultural circumstances that surround it. We all know that sometimes what works well in one media does not work well in another media. For example, you go to a movie adapted from a novel and you come out disappointed because the movie left out your favorite parts from the book. Something in a story is 'lost in the translation' from one media to another. According to Professor Bounds, Perry Mason has been an exception to this general principle."

"How so?" Burger asked. He stared at Springwood's left eye, trying to fight off the effects of the tequila.

"Erle Stanley Gardner, the author of the original Perry Mason, was a practicing attorney in California who wanted to be a full-time writer," Springwood continued. "Before he published the first two Perry Mason novels in 1933, he wrote magazine articles and pulp fiction. Writers who worked in those particular genres got paid mostly for quantity and not so much quality. So by the time Gardner was ready to publish his Perry Mason novels, he already had several years of pulp fiction writing experience. In order to publish two Perry Mason novels a year, Gardner had to write 66,000 words per week or about 21 double-spaced typed pages a day. He devised a formula that would help him keep to that grinding schedule."

"The Perry Mason formula?" Burger asked.

"Correct," Springwood replied. "Each and every Perry Mason story follows the same formula, whether the story appears in a novel, a film, a radio program, or a television show. Whether you look at the Perry Mason novels of the 1930s or the Perry Mason television series of the 1960s, the formula is always the same. Gardner was constantly after the writers and producers of the other media to stick with the Perry Mason formula."

"And what's the formula?"

"Essentially, Perry Mason is the central figure of the narrative," Springwood explained. "It's Perry Mason who has the superior expertise to spot a critical legal error made the by the police or the D.A.'s office. It's Perry Mason who makes proficient use of assistants in the gathering of evidence. It's Perry Mason who ascertains that the solution to the crime offered by the police is the false solution. It's Perry Mason who reveals the identification of the murderer at the last possible moment, usually when he interrogates the guilty party on the witness stand."

"But why do people like him so much?" Burger asked. "We're the prosecutors. We're supposed to be the guys in the white hats. He's a criminal defense lawyer. Nobody is supposed to like criminal defense lawyers."

"Although Perry Mason does thwart the efforts of the police and the district attorney, he always uncovers the guilty parties and brings them to justice," Springwood answered. "In effect, he works to confirm the audience's faith in an ideal criminal justice system, one in which the guilty will be caught and brought to justice."

"So, if Professor Bounds were here drinking medicinal tequila with us, he would tell me that I shouldn't feel bad about losing to Perry Mason all the time?"

"No, you shouldn't. It's all part of the formula. You are an essential ingredient of the Perry Mason formula," Springwood said.

"An essential ingredient of the formula," Burger repeated.
 

Part III

D.A. Hamilton Burger sat down in his chair after the judge overruled his umpteenth furious objection. "Another one bites the dust," he mumbled to himself. After the judge declared a mistrial and returned to her chambers, Burger sat and watched the jury members file out of the jury box. He watched as the grateful defendant, a beefy former security guard, shook Perry Mason's hand while his tearful mother hugged Mason's neck. When Perry Mason was alone, Burger rose from his chair and walked the five steps to the defense table. He paused for a moment before speaking.

"Let me guess, Mason," Burger said, his voice relaxed and matter-of-fact. "Paul Drake discovered that your client didn't have enough time to plant the pipe bomb next to the television tower, walk to a bank of public telephones to make the 911 call warning police about the pipe bomb, and then return to the scene in time to move people away from the pipe bomb before it exploded. You simply presented that fact as evidence in open court."

"Exactly, Mr. Burger," Mason said, continuing to pack his briefcase.

"Well, I suppose it's another case of transmedia poetics," Burger said.

"Of what?" Perry Mason stopped and looked at Burger.

"The Perry Mason formula."

"I don't follow you, Mr. Burger," Perry Mason said, his forehead wrinkling.

"Never mind, Mason. You'd better get back to your office. I'm sure Della Street has a pile of work for you."