“Men stumble over pebbles, never over mountains.”
—Behind That Curtain, 1928, Chapter 19
My introduction to Chinese-Hawaiian detective Charlie Chan was probably similar to that of many who grew up in the era of black-and-white television, followed by those awesome color TV sets (red, blue, and green screens) and just three channels. It was through watching the 44 Charlie Chan movies on late-night or weekend television, starring Warner Oland, Sydney Toler, and finally Roland Winters—a Swede, a Missourian, and a Bostonian,
respectively—that I first met the detective. All Caucasians in yellow face accompanied by Sons No.’s 1, 2, 3, and even 4, and sometimes Charlie’s daughters. I loved those movies in my youth. And while everyone had their favorite Chan performer, I remember actor Sydney Toler the best.Sure, there were other fictional sleuths, but this detective seemed to tickle my fancy in ways the others did not. Yes, Detective Chan of film was known for his whimsical sayings, such as “Any powder that kills flea is good powder.” However, I believe it was something else? In a way Chan was like me—like you and me. He wasn’t a rich aristocrat with a butler and money to burn, or a tough private eye, or a cop who could take a beating, or give one, then shake it off. He didn’t possess the cold analytical mind of Sherlock Holmes, nor was he always pulling out a gat and shooting someone. Chan was quite nonviolent; a family man who solved cases with intelligence, persistence, and as Charlie would say, “a little luck.” In effect, he was an underdog, an outsider, and just a normal good person—like you and me. But unlike you and me, he was a marksman of sorts … with his tongue. Oh yes, those aphorisms!
After reading Earl Derr Biggers’ six Charlie Chan stories, my eyes were opened to a very different detective from the one I’d known on screen. The Charlie Chan of literature was just as sagacious an Oriental sleuth as Sherlock Holmes was as an Occidental detective. They were the ying and the yang on opposite sides of the world, both fighting to right wrongs. The Charlie Chan inside those novels was not comedic, nor were the aphorisms I found there.
And it was then I really noticed the aphorisms, Biggers’ aphorisms. Those on film were funny, often slapstick in nature. However, those in the novels were not the same. An example: “Moment comes when gold and pearls can not buy back the raven locks of youth.” The author injected his sage adages for insight and enlightenment. They were,
contrary to those in the movies, strategically placed within the novels and masterfully fit to the particular situation in which they were found.(Left) Writer, singer, and No. 1 Charlie Chan fan Lou Armagno
And they made you think! Perhaps even made something stir inside you. Maybe made you remember an incident that happened to you, and wish you had offered that same retort; or led you to file that saying away for your own future use! And that’s because those aphorisms in the books were borrowed from the great philosophers of history: Buddha, Confucius, Socrates, Jesus, the I Ching. And I found it remarkable how seemingly effortless the author injected aphorisms into his prose. Since reading those six Chan novels, I have not come across such a technique again, at least not to that magnitude. I’ve seen it occasionally, as inside the Chief Inspector Armand Gamache novels by Louise Penny, and from time to time elsewhere. But other authors have not employed maxims to the same degree, and as effectively, as Biggers did through the voice of Detective Charlie Chan.
So was it stereotypical? Sure, of course it was. Probably not many of those Chinese immigrants working in gold mines, the garment industries, and factories, or those building railroads spouted off many aphorisms through the course of each day. But it made for damn good reading! And while some debate Biggers’ benevolence in creating his detective, the novels were an indisputable success. And they portrayed an Asian American in a positive light amid probably the most significant period of anti-Asian sentiment in America.
Since the publication of that first “little Red Book,” Quotations from Charlie Chan (1968), compiled and edited by Harvey Chertok and Martha Torge, there have been several works written to address the aphorisms of Charlie Chan on the silver screen. Now—to set the record straight, and with my humble involvement—there exists a collection of those penned (between 1925 and 1932) by Ohio author Earl Derr Biggers inside his half-dozen Charlie Chan novels. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did in finding them.
“Life would be a dreary waste, if there was no thing called loyalty.”—
The Chinese Parrot, 1926, Chapter 2
Introduction
(Editor’s note: Chicago resident Barbara Gregorich studied at Kent State University, the University of Wisconsin, and Harvard. Before embarking on a writing career, she worked as an English instructor, a typesetter, and a letter carrier. She is the author of Charlie Chan’s Poppa: Earl Derr Biggers (2018), and penned the introduction to The Wisdom Within Earl Derr Biggers’ Charlie Chan. As a bonus treat, we now bring you that brief preface in its entirety.)
Language is always changing, both its words and its structure. A 21st-century American would have at least mild difficulty understanding what one of the Mayflower immigrants was saying. Yet there is one small part of language that has remained intact over the millennia, and that is the aphorism. An aphorism’s short observation on life or on others is pithy and often witty. More importantly, it offers a subtle encouragement on how to live. (Or sometimes how not to live.) And even though many aphorisms are ancient, people of all ages love them as if they were fresh. They’re intrigued by the picture most adages paint, and intrigued as well by what the saying means. They recognize that when they encounter an adage, they’re encountering only the surface—more depth of meaning lies within.
As a writer and a respected raconteur, Earl Derr Biggers must have sensed the power of aphorisms. Whether he ever thought of putting them into a novel before he created Charlie Chan, we don’t know. Biggers requested of his wife, Eleanor, that when he died, all his working papers be destroyed, and she honored his request. So all we know of Biggers’ thinking is contained in the files of the Bobbs-Merrill Company, which are held by the Lilly
Library of Indiana University. In the letters that Biggers exchanged with his editor, David Laurance Chambers, there is no mention of how the author came to make Charlie Chan a font of adages.That his decision was the right one, however, is not in doubt. No sooner was The House Without a Key published [in 1925] than the public began demanding more—more of Charlie Chan, and more of his adages. After Fox Film cast Warner Oland as Chan, the scriptwriters not only kept the aphorisms of the novel, but multiplied them. Multiplied them to the degree that Biggers, who loved Warner Oland as Chan, thought the movies contained too many weak, wise-crack sayings.
And he was right in that assessment, too. The Hollywood-created adages call attention to themselves. They are meant to do so. The adages in Biggers’ six novels are clever. They are witty. They are fun to read. But in no way do they call attention to themselves for the sake of calling attention. And in no way are they superficial. At their foundation, they are serious offerings to the public—you, me, all of us—on the attitudes and actions we should emulate as we live our lives. They tell us how to live with wisdom, not against it.
This book, The Wisdom Within Earl Derr Biggers’ Charlie Chan, offers the reader all the aphorisms within Earl Derr Biggers six novels, unadulterated by Hollywood add-ons. The various wise and playful ways in which Lou Armagno groups the adages is a delight in itself. Adages are pithy. So—read and enjoy.
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