January 31, 1925, The Saturday Evening Post, Chapter 7 – Enter Charlie Chan!

By now everyone should be aware this year marks the 100th anniversary of Earl Derr Biggers’ novel, The House Without a Key, 1925. And that the story was first serialized in seven editions of The Saturday Evening Post, beginning with the January 24, 1925 edition. However, it was not until the next week, January 31, 1925, that Detective Chan came into existence, stepping onto the pages of The Post, Vol 197, No. 31, Pg 110 (to be precise) Chapter 7, Enter Charlie Chan.

According to Earl Derr Biggers’ biographer Author Barbara Gregorich the full novel was likely released by Bobbs-Merrill after the story concluded inside of that seventh edition, March 7th. So probably in late March or early April 1925.

Now I know many of you have seen the following description many times. Still, I felt it appropriate that today we revisit Charlie’s debut onto the world stage. Dan Winterslip has been murdered, stabbed through the heart found lying in the hammock on his lanai. His cousin Miss Minerva Winterslip and his brother Amos receive the police:

Presently there were voices in the hall, and Haku ushered three men into the living-room. Though evidently police, they were all in plain clothes. One of them, a tall, angular Yankee with the look of a sailing master about him, stepped forward.

“I’m Hallet,” he said. “Captain of Detectives. You’re Mr. Amos Winterslip, I believe?”

“I am,” Amos answered. He introduced Miss Minerva. Captain Hallet gave her a casual nod; this was man’s business and he disliked having a woman involved.

“Dan Winterslip, you said,” he remarked, turning back to Amos. “That’s a great pity. Where is he?”

Amos indicated the lanai. “Come, Doctor,” Hallet said, and went through the curtain, followed by the smaller of the two men. As they went out, the third man stepped farther into the room, and Miss Minerva gave a little gasp of astonishment as she looked at him. In those warm islands thin men were the rule, but here was a striking exception. He was very fat indeed, yet he walked with the light dainty step of a woman. His cheeks were as chubby as a baby’s, his skin ivory tinted, his black hair close-cropped, his amber eyes slanting. As he passed Miss Minerva he bowed with a courtesy encountered all too rarely in a work-a-day world, then moved on after Hallet.

“Amos!” cried Miss Minerva. “That man–why he–“

“Charlie Chan,” Amos explained. “I’m glad they brought him. He’s the best detective on the force.”

“But–he’s Chinese!”

“Of course.”

There you have it. One Hundred years ago–today–one of America’s first sleuths of the Golden Age of Mystery Fiction arrived. And he stubbornly refuses to leave, despite only six original novels, attacks on everything from his masculinity and manner of speaking, to debate over his legacy as either a racist interpretation of the Chinese or a positive influence in a dark period of Anti-Chinese sentiment in America. Ole Charlie sure can take a punch!

This year, members of The Charlie Chan Family Home are planning to meet (where TBD) in celebration of this 100th Anniversary of the Novel and Detective Chan’s origin. Among things we hope to accomplish: determine the detective’s exact birth-date, set a day to celebrate him each year, begin online (Zoom) meetings, break bread together, and perhaps an “official” card carrying fan club. Who knows! For now Happy Birthday, Charlie Chan.

“The Fates are busy, and man may do much to assist”

The House Without a Key, 1925, Chapter 7