ERLE STANLEY GARDNER – The Case of the Fan Dancer’s Horse. William Morrow, hardcover, 1947. Pocket 886, paperback, 1952. Several later reprint editions.

   In 1933, when Erle Stanley Gardner took his publisher’s advice that the hero of his first novel, The Case of the Velvet Claws, might make a good series character, he did not know what lay in store for him-or for Perry Mason. Since then, the Los Angeles lawyer; his secretary, Della Street; and private investigator Paul Drake have become household names. And with the first airing of the immensely popular Perry Mason television series in  1957 they became household images as well, in the form of Raymond Burr. Barbara Hale, and William Hopper.

   While not particularly well written or characterized, the Mason books have convoluted plots and punchy dialogue, which in the courtroom takes on the form of verbal sparring. The books are also very much alike, and perhaps this is the basis for their wide appeal. Readers know that in each one an innocent (in the legal sense) will become involved in a murder; odious Lieutenant Tragg will investigate and arrest; snide District Attorney Hamilton Burger will prosecute; and Perry Mason will vindicate his client in a dramatic courtroom revelation of the true killer.

   It is these courtroom scenes that make the novels stand out from other mystery fiction. Gardner, a lawyer himself, was able to simplify courtroom procedure so even the least astute reader could understand it, while at the same time packing the scene with dramatic impact. Even those who are normally bored with legal matters can enjoy watching Perry Mason devil the D.A. in the interests of justice, and many a lawyer practicing today will admit he got his first taste of the profession through Mason’s legal pyrotechnics.

   The Case of the Fan Dancer’s Horse begins with a hit-and-run automobile accident in California’s Imperial Valley. Two cars glance off one another; Perry Mason and Della Street rush to aid the one that overturns in the ditch, and find an old Mexican woman whose car trunk contains the plumed wardrobe of a fan dancer. The woman is presumably taken away to the hospital by a passing motorist, but the accident is never reported. Mason, who has taken the fans and dancing shoes into custody, places an ad in the paper offering their return. The reply is not what he expected: The fan dancer docs indeed want her property returned, but it is a horse, not a wardrobe, that she is missing.

   Dancer Lois Fenton — alias Cherie Chi-Chi — is appearing in an old western town called Palomino, and Mason and Street travel there to meet with her. They return the fan-dancing paraphernalia and receive a description of the missing horse, but soon it becomes apparent that the woman they spoke with is not the real Lois Fenton. The real fan dancer — who has a complicated history — is as missing as her horse.

   Approached by a young man who is in love with Miss Fenton, Mason accepts a retainer to act in her behalf, and earns it when a wealthy rancher is found murdered in an L.A. hotel room, a bloody imprint that could have been made by an ostrich feather on the wall. Lois Fenton was seen leaving the scene and quickly becomes the chief suspect.

   In spite of obvious holes in logic — why, for instance, would Mason take on a client when he has seen no more of her than her ostrich plumes? — the story moves ahead at a breakneck pace. And when the real Lois Fenton finally turns up and the legal battle lines are drawn, Mason is in fine form.

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   Reprinted with permission from 1001 Midnights, edited by Bill Pronzini & Marcia Muller and published by The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box, 2007.   Copyright © 1986, 2007 by the Pronzini-Muller Family Trust.

DOROTHY GARDINER – The Seventh Mourner. Sheriff Moss Magill #2. Doubleday Crime Club, hardcover, 1958. Popular Library, paperback, 1964.

   Sheriff Moss Magill of Notlaw, Colorado, functions best in his beloved mountains and is reluctant to leave them. However, when local resident Harriet Farquhar Orchard dies, she makes it a condition of her will that he deliver her ashes to her home in Rowanmuir, Scotland. Moss is convinced to go only when he learns that Harriet also wanted him to investigate her sister, Lizzy, who has been released by a Scottish court with the verdict “not proven” on a charge of murder.

   Wearing his customary whipcord pants, boots, and black-and-yellow striped shirt with his silver badge pinned to it, Moss evokes many stares during the trip, especially on the train from Edinburgh to Rowanrnuir, which, coincidentally, all of the mourners have taken that same August morning.

   The assorted group is all staying at the hotel where Lizzy works as a maid. During a day trip to Glasgow, Moss hears bagpipes for the first time and, in an enchantment born of ethnic memory, falls in love with Scotland.

   When one of the party is pushed under a truck that same day, he puts his investigative talents to use and works with the local authorities both to discover the murderer and to fulfill Harriet’s last request.

   This is an unusual idea, for a mystery, with excellent background and an appealing main character. Other amusing Magill adventures are Lion in Wait ( 1963), in which a toothless circus lion is accused of murder; and What Crime Is This (1956), in which Moss uses a hula-dancer statue with a clock embedded in her stomach to help clear up a murder.

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   Reprinted with permission from 1001 Midnights, edited by Bill Pronzini & Marcia Muller and published by The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box, 2007.   Copyright © 1986, 2007 by the Pronzini-Muller Family Trust.

EMILE GABORIAU – Monsieur Lecoq. E. Dentu, France, 1868. Edited version published in the US by Dover, softcover, 1975. Many other editions published in the US.

   Monsieur Lecoq, Gaboriau’s twelfth book and his fifth novel in which the French detective of the title appears, is today often considered his best and most readable book. Changing reading habits, plus indifferent translations, have left the pioneer French mystery writer all but unread today, but he deserves a place in any survey of classic detective fiction.

   Lecoq, introduced in his first book as a secondary character, was a minor Surete detective with a shady past somewhat like that of the real-life Vidocq. But he soon takes center stage in the Gaboriau novels, and in Monsieur Lecoq he investigates a triple murder in a poor section of Paris. The killer, apprehended at the scene, appears to be a petty criminal who cans himself May, but Lecoq suspects he might really have another identity.

   The duel of wits between the two men extends through the first volume of the novel. The second volume, sometimes published separately as The Honor of the Name, is really a separate and inferior historical novel set around the year 1815, with Lecoq and the evasive villain only reappearing in the final twenty-two pages.

   Though there have been numerous British and American editions of the novel, the recent Dover edition cited above (skillfully edited and introduced by E.F. Bleiler) is the first to eliminate the extraneous historical novel and jump at once from the end of volume one to the important final pages of volume two.

   Gaboriau’s books are not without their weaknesses, and they often suffer from cardboard characterizations and inconsistencies. Their strengths lie in plotting and background. They arc not exactly the books we think of as detective novels today, but enough elements are present to argue effectively that Gaboriau deserves his title as the father of the detective novel.

   Lecoq first appears as a secondary character in The Widow Lerouge (1866), but stars in his next two cases, The Mystery of Orcival (1867) and File No.113 ( 1867). He also makes a brief appearance in The Slaves of Paris (1868), but this is more a crime novel than a detective story.

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   Reprinted with permission from 1001 Midnights, edited by Bill Pronzini & Marcia Muller and published by The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box, 2007.   Copyright © 1986, 2007 by the Pronzini-Muller Family Trust.

JACQUES FUTRELLE – Great Cases of the Thinking Machine. Dover, softcover, 1976.

   Editor E. F. Bleiler has selected from the almost fifty stories about the incredible brain, “The Thinking Machine,” thirteen cases for this book. Only one has appeared in book form before; the others were collected from newspapers of 1906-1908.

   These have been called “societal stories,” different from the stories in Best “Thinking Machine” Detective Stories. The journalistic, telegraphic writing style illuminates the American Edwardian period of the tales, which involve mostly the shenanigans of rich Back Bay Boston life. Once again the testy professor is able to recall his maxim, “Nothing is impossible. It might be improbable, but not impossible.”

   The stories are short — they are set up as a Problem, then the professor’s explanation. or Solution. Many involve exotic suspects, impersonations, vague stock-market machinations, jewel thefts, and menagerie solutions (animals hold the crucial clue).

   From “The Problem of the Cross Mark,” we learn to beware of drugged cigars. From “The Roswell Tiara.” we learn to keep our eye on the cockatoo. And if there’s an old house, there’s a treasure. These tales pale in comparison to the earlier volume — science hardly enters into most of the solutions. It seems that a thoroughly bizarre situation is set up, allowing the mastermind to give an explanation and then say, “Any problem may be solved by logic.”

   The longest story, “The Haunted Bell,” was put into some editions of one of  Futrelle’s novels. It contains an exotic dream sequence, but the solution is straightforwardly scientific; only the ending has a surprise, even for the Thinking Machine.

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   Reprinted with permission from 1001 Midnights, edited by Bill Pronzini & Marcia Muller and published by The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box, 2007.   Copyright © 1986, 2007 by the Pronzini-Muller Family Trust.

JACQUES FUTRELLE – Best “Thinking Machine” Stories. Dover, softcover, 1973.

   The career of Jacques Futrelle was heroically cut short by his choice of holiday transportation — he sailed aboard the Titanic. Before that, however, he created one of the most notable eccentric detectives in crime history, Professor Augustus S. F. X. Van Dusen (with plenty of degrees after his name), “the Thinking Machine.”

   The professor is a famous scientist with an enormous, domelike head (he wears a hat size 8); a wilderness of straw-yellow hair; and squinty, watery blue eyes. He has thick spectacles, long white hands, and a small body. His henchman and gofer is Hutchison Hatch. a newspaper reporter. Most of the Thinking Machine’s cases arc brought to him by Hatch, who knows that to get a good story, one brings it to the man who can get to the bottom of an “impossible crime.”

   The professor, in the fine tradition of armchair detectives, knows that any puzzle has a logical explanation. His sententious principle is “two and two always make four — not sometime but all the time.” Much of the legwork is done by Hatch off stage; the professor himself is a phone fanatic — he often goes into his little phone room and returns with the complete solution.

   The Best “Thinking Machine” Detective Stories are a dozen collected from The Thinking Machine (1906), which contains seven stories, and The Thinking Machine on the Case ( 1907). Two of Futrelle’s tales were shown on public television in The Rivals of Sherlock Holmes.

   The Thinking Machine was introduced in a story, much anthologized, called “The Problem of Cell 13.” From a simple arguing point, a challenge is proposed. The professor undertakes, on purely scientific grounds, to escape from a death cell in the penitentiary in one week. And does so.

   Other stories contain puzzles about dying messages, perfect alibis, buried treasure, and an occult legacy. Excellent “locked-room” variations are presented in “The Stolen Rubens,” “The Phantom Motor,” and “The Lost Radium.” Another, “Kidnapped Baby Blake, Millionaire,” where a person vanishes from footprints in a snow-filled yard, is not quite up to snuff.

   In “The Missing Necklace,” the crook is about to give Scotland Yard the bird except for the intervention of the Thinking Machine. He is able to sum up one case thus: “The subtler murders — that is, the ones which are most attractive as problems — are nearly always the work of a cunning woman. I know nothing about women myself.”  Shades of Sherlock Holmes.

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   Reprinted with permission from 1001 Midnights, edited by Bill Pronzini & Marcia Muller and published by The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box, 2007.   Copyright © 1986, 2007 by the Pronzini-Muller Family Trust.

WILLIAM FULLER – Back Country. Dell First Edition #8, paperback, 1954. Stark House Press, 2022 (Black Gat #36).

   William Fuller, according to his publishers, was a merchant seaman, a hobo, a veteran of World War II, and a bit player in western movies. He also wrote seven novels about Brad Dolan, a big, tough drifter who travels around the south getting in and out of trouble.

   In Back Country, the first book in the series, Dolan’s car breaks down in Cartersville, a small town in central Florida. Many similar small towns turned up in the paperback originals of the 1950s, and Cartersville is filled with all the characters we love to hate — the Boss who runs the county and believes that “nigras” are all right if they slay in their place; the cruel, corrupt, pot-gutted lawmen; the redneck town bigots.

   Dolan enters this environment and makes all the wrong moves: He wins at gambling, insults the sheriff, makes time with the big Boss’s wife. Naturally, he gets beaten and thrown in jail, but that doesn’t stop him. He not only sleeps with the Boss’s wife, he sleeps with the Boss’s daughter. Then the wife is found in Dolan’s room with her throat cut, just as the town’s racial tension reaches a crisis.

   These ingredients may sound familiar, but Fuller mixes them expertly, keeping the pace fast and the characters believable. Dolan’s toughness (and his realization that he’s not quite as hard-boiled as he thinks) is convincingly handled. There’s a spectacularly vivid cockfighting sequence, and the setting is at times drawn with telling realism.

   Also recommended in the Brad Dolan series: Goat Island (1954) and The Girl in the Frame (1957).

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   Reprinted with permission from 1001 Midnights, edited by Bill Pronzini & Marcia Muller and published by The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box, 2007.   Copyright © 1986, 2007 by the Pronzini-Muller Family Trust.

TIMOTHY FULLER – Three Thirds of a Ghost. Jupiter Jones #2. Little, Brown, hardcover, 1941. Popular Library #81, paperback, 1946.

   When his first novel, Harvard Has a Homicide, was published in 1936, Timothy Fuller — just twenty-two and a Harvard undergraduate — was hailed as an important mystery-story prodigy. He never quite lived up to the promise of that first book, however, either in his productivity or in the quality of his later work.

   It was five years before he published his second and third mysteries, another two years until his fourth, and seven more until his fifth and final book. And only Reunion with Murder (1941) and This Is Murder, Mr. Jones (1943) can be said to equal or surpass Harvard Has a Homicide in plotting and technique.

   Despite its inherent flaws, however, Three Thirds of a Ghost may well be Fuller’s most appealing work. One of the reasons-perhaps the main reason-is that it is set primarily in a Boston bookshop, Bromfield’s, where writer Charles Newbury (who specializes in roman a clef novels about important Boston families, not to mention mysteries featuring an Oriental detective known as the Parrot) is shot to death while addressing 200 guests at Bromfield’s 150th birthday celebration.

   In Catalogue of Crime, Barzun and Taylor call Three Thirds of a Ghost “disappointing.” And so it is, in terms of its rather thin plot and dubious gimmick to explain how Newbury could be killed without any of the 200 witnesses seeing who fired the shot.

   But Harvard Fine Arts instructor Jupiter Jones, the amateur sleuth who also stars in Fuller’s other four novels, is an engaging bumbler; the cast of characters — especially Jupiter’s girlfriend (later wife), Helen, Newbury’s non-stereotypical. Chinese secretary, Lin, and some refreshingly intelligent cops — is diverse and well drawn; and there are amusing bits of business interspersed with plenty of barbed commentary on the writing and selling of books and on pre-World War II Boston society.

   If your taste runs to the humorous, sophisticated, slightly screwball type of storytelling popular in the 1930s, this bibliomystery (and any of the other Jupiter Jones romps) is definitely your sort of Boston tea party.

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   Reprinted with permission from 1001 Midnights, edited by Bill Pronzini & Marcia Muller and published by The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box, 2007.   Copyright © 1986, 2007 by the Pronzini-Muller Family Trust.

SAMUEL FULLER – The Dark Page. Duell, Sloan & Pearce, hardcover, 1944.Mercury, digest-sized paperback, 1951, as Murder Makes a Deadline. Avon, paperback, 1982. Film: Columbia Pictures, 1952, as Scandal Sheet.

   Film director Sam Fuller is a stylish, iconoclastic auteur whose movies transform tabloid trash into cinematic art. The characters in his films are larger than life, their dialogue often sounding like the copy off the back of a paperback; yet the broad strokes of his scripts are turned to poetry by fluid camera work and startling visual imagery, redeeming graces his novels tend to lack.

   His career as a novelist is, then, considerably less significant, although perhaps no other film-maker of his stature has written so many novels. Prior to his film-making career, Fuller wrote lurid topical tales (Burn Baby Burn, 1935; Test Tube Baby, 1936), foreshadowing such “out of the headlines” Fuller films as Pickup on South Street (1953) and Underworld USA (1960).

   His later books are novelizations either of films he made (The Naked Kiss, 1963) or of films he failed to make (144 Picadilly, 1971). His claim to fame as a novelist, however, rests upon The Dark Page, a fast-moving, effective crime novel that reflects Fuller’s love for Hearst-school yellow journalism, that lurid National Enquirer style of reporting that Fuller’s movies hinge upon and transcend.

   City editor Carl Chapman throws a Lonely Hearts Ball at Madison Square Garden, a cynical media event designed to boost the circulation of his paper, the Comet. At the party, which is attended by his wife, Rose (to whom he’s happily married), he encounters Charlotte, a former wife from his former, secret life. Returning with Charlotte (whom he had never divorced) to her shabby apartment, an argument ensues and Charlotte is killed, more or less accidentally.

   Chapman’s star reporter, Lance McCleary, latching on to the fact that the murdered woman had attended the Lonely Hearts Ball, pursues the story vigorously, not realizing he is closing in on his mentor, editor Chapman. Chapman, too, cannot resist the headline-making story, and feels just as proud as he does threatened, as Lance’s muckraking tactics lead Chapman into further deceit and murder.

   Fuller’s style in The Dark Page is lively, the melodrama made palatable by the short, choppy sentences and paragraphs that are right out of his newspaper background. Well worth reading for its own merits, The Dark Page is a fascinating footnote in the story of a major, if offbeat, American film director.

   A tidy little B movie was fashioned from The Dark Page, but, ironically, Fuller didn’t make it: The adaptation, Scandal Sheet (1953), with Broderick Crawford as the city editor and John Derek as his metaphorical son, was directed by fellow B-movie magician Phil Karlson.

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   Reprinted with permission from 1001 Midnights, edited by Bill Pronzini & Marcia Muller and published by The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box, 2007.   Copyright © 1986, 2007 by the Pronzini-Muller Family Trust.

DAVID FROME – Mr. Pinkerton Has the Clue.   Farrar & Rinehart, hardcover, 1936. Popular Library #26, paperback, 1944; Popular Library 60-2234,  paperback, date?

   David Frome is a pseudonym of Zenith Brown, who also wrote under the name Leslie Ford. As with her Ford novels, the Frome books deal with polite middle-class people to whom bloodless murder is an unwelcome but speedily dealt-with intrusion. Unlike the Ford novels, which are distinctly American, the Frome stories are distinctly British; many readers have no inkling that the author was not English but an American living in Great Britain who had great ability at adopting the English idiom.

   Mr. Evan Pinkerton would be a pathetic character were it not for his deductive abilities. He is described mainly as “little” and “grey” — “little grey forehead,” “little grey man,” even “grey little spine.” His life has been “mostly drab and often miserable,” and now that he has inherited a substantial sum from his wife, he has trouble believing he really has money and continues to live parsimoniously.

   As this novel opens, Mr. Pinkerton is going on a holiday to Bath, England. Before very long he has violated his parsimony by engaging a room in an expensive hotel, led there by his curiosity about Dame Ellen Crosby, a famed actress.

   Mr. Pinkerton observes quarrels and tensions developing among Dame Crosby’s crippled brother, Major Peyton; the major’s beautiful daughter, Cecily; Cecily’s plain and envious sister, Gillian; Cecily’s fianc6, the arrogant Vardon Crosby; Mrs. Fullaway, landlady at the hotel; and the mysterious Miss Rosa Margolious, a guest who seems always to materialize at the wrong moment.

   When Dame Ellen is found murdered in her bed. it is no surprise — largely due to the author’s unfortunate “had-I-but-known” approach. Pinkerton, who has often assisted Scotland Yard, is called in on the case by Chief Constable Thicknesse (who investigates along with his spaniel, the macabrely named Dr. Crippen). And detect Pinkerton does, in his mild-mannered and affable way, with the usual satisfactory results.

   This novel and the others in the Pinkerton series — The Hammersmith Murders (1930), Mr. Pinkerton Goes to Scotland Yard ( 1934), and Mr. Pinkerton at the Old Angel (1939), among others — will probably not suit the reader who likes his heroes larger than life. It is possible, however, to identify with Evan Pinkerton’s frequent embarrassment and bumbling ways; and the plots and settings are vintage British mystery.

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   Reprinted with permission from 1001 Midnights, edited by Bill Pronzini & Marcia Muller and published by The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box, 2007.   Copyright © 1986, 2007 by the Pronzini-Muller Family Trust.

MICKEY FRIEDMAN – Hurricane Season. Dutton, hardcover, 1983. Ballantine, paperback, 1984.

   Set in the Fifties in the small northwest Florida town of Palmetto, Hurricane Season is a period piece. From the very beginning — the night the Men’s Lodge puts on its Womanless Wedding (a wedding play in which an the characters are played by men) — we are reminded of when the story is taking place by little touches, such as the Communist Threat, Nugrape soda, and off-the-shoulder peasant blouses.

   These touches are used sparingly — not once do we have the sense that the author is being heavy-handed with her research. But what really makes Hurricane Season work is the characters, who become embroiled in murder during the sultry days of August 1952.

   Events begin with the night of The Womanless Wedding when the swamp catches fire. Seen mainly through the eyes of Lily Trulock, a middle-aged woman who, with her husband, runs the grocery and marine supply, other unusual happenings follow: A mysterious stranger, Joshua Bums, comes to town; the daughter of the town’s leading politician seduces a young religious fanatic and shortly afterward is / found murdered; a book of poetry that the dead woman wrote comes into Lily’s hands. And finally Lily, convinced that her son-in-law, the sheriff, is mishandling the , investigation, sets out to get to the bottom of things — with  surprising results.

   A promising first novel that shows great sensitivity to the way small towns and the interrelationships of their residents work — be it in the Fifties or today. Friedman’s second novel, The Grail Tree, which is set in India and California, was published in 1984.

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   Reprinted with permission from 1001 Midnights, edited by Bill Pronzini & Marcia Muller and published by The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box, 2007.   Copyright © 1986, 2007 by the Pronzini-Muller Family Trust.