His contributions to the Post include “The Death Voyage,”  “The Maracot Deep,” and “The End of Devil Hawker,” [see PDF below].

Although his family’s background was in the arts, Doyle chose to focus on medicine rather than the written word as a young man. His mother took in a border named Dr. Bryan Charles Waller in Doyle’s youth, and the man had such an influence on the young boy that he decided to follow in his footsteps and go to medical school. Doyle’s own father suffered from severe alcoholism and was committed to an asylum, and in many ways Doyle looked to Waller and a future medical professor, Dr. Joseph Bell, as father figures.

At university, Bell taught Doyle the value of logic, deduction, and observation–traits that would become central to the personality of Doyle’s famed detective Sherlock Holmes. He was eventually offered a job as a ship’s surgeon on The Hope, a whaling boat bound for the Arctic Ocean. It was this voyage that instilled in him the love of adventure that was prevalent throughout his work, and was the basis for his story Captain of the Polestar.

Eventually he set up a family doctor practice and wrote stories on the side. In 1886 he began writing his big breakthrough, A Study In Scarlet, which introduced the world to the duo of Holmes and Watson. By 1891, Doyle had abandoned his medical career and was writing stories about Holmes—as well as other short stories, historical novels, non-fiction, and more—full time.

Interestingly, Doyle channeled his inner Sherlock later in life. A trial involving the wrongful conviction of George Edalji, a half-English, half-Indian man who was found guilty after blatantly discriminatory police work, caught Doyle’s attention. Doyle’s non-fictitious detective work proved Edalji’s innocence and was a factor in the creation of the Court of Criminal Appeal in England.

Famous Contributors: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle The Saturday Evening Post

In the 1920s, the Post introduced a new addition to the pantheon of great detectives—Charlie Chan. As conceived by Earl Derr Biggers, Chan used the wisdom of his native culture to outwit criminals and solve cases that baffled others. Chan proved so popular that he eventually appeared in six more serials in the Post. His character was also used in over 50 movies made between the ’20s and ’50s.

Chan as he appeared in 1930.

Today, though, his popularity has dimmed, and many regard him not as a wise detective from a far-off land but a racist caricature of Chinese-Americans.

How could a loveable character such as this become something so offensive? If you are looking for a simple answer, you might as well stop reading this right now because the issue of Charlie Chan is far from black and white. While the novels may seem offensive today, they were enlightened for their time.

Chan started life as an “oriental;” that is, as a stereotyped character that played on Westerners’ preconceived ideas of Easterners.

Note, for example Chan’s first introduction in “The Keeper of the Keys,”

“The young woman who was bound for Reno felt somehow rather grateful towards him. Presently he turned, and the girl understood, for she saw that he was Chinese. A race that minds its own business. An admirable race. This member of it was plump and middle-aged. His little black eyes were shining as though from some inner excitement; his lips were parted in a smile that seemed to indicate a sudden immense delight.”

Although this introduction paints a romantic image of Chan, it seems to exaggerate his “Chinese-ness,” making him less a person than the product of a far-off land.

This image is reinforced by the witty Chinese proverbs that Chan utters throughout the novels:

“The man-hunting tiger is sometimes over-plump,” he remarked. “Still he pounces with admirable precision.”

Other illustrators made Chan appear less like an oriental caricature.

In the six years he wrote Chan mysteries, Biggers worked to make his detective a genuine representative of his culture. In his first mystery, “The House Without A Key,” Chan was nothing more than a bit of local charm for the tale’s Hawaiian backdrop. By the time “The Keeper of the Keys” rolled around, however, Chan had become the star of the series. He had also developed unexpected depth, and the author shares Chan’s awareness of the racism around him.

“Even if he’s a Chinaman?” sneered Ryder, but he rose to go.

As Chan followed him up the stairs, hot anger burned in his heart. Many men had called him a Chinaman, but he had realized they did so from ignorance, and good-naturedly forgave them. With Ryder, however, he knew the case was otherwise; the man was a native of the West Coast, he lived in San Francisco, and he understood only too well that this term applied to a Chinese gentleman was an insult. So, no doubt, he had intended it.

It was, therefore, in a mood far less amiable than was his wont that the plump Chinese followed the long, lean figure of Ryder into the latter’s room. The door as he closed it after him might almost have been said to slam.”

Biggers also brought up Chan’s own identity crisis. When Ah Sing becomes the prime suspect, Chan feels uncomfortable investigating someone who is more “Chinese” than himself,

“Mr. Chan,” he said suddenly, “how close can you get to the heart of Ah Sing?”

“It overwhelms me with sadness to admit it,” Charlie answered, “for he is of my own origin, my own race, as you know. But when I look into his eyes I discover that a gulf like the heaving Pacific lies between us. Why? Because he, though among Caucasians many more years than I, still remains Chinese. As Chinese today as in the first moon of his existence. While I-I bear the brand-the label—Americanized.”

As illustrated in the final story of the series, Chan (on right) is almost indistinguishable among the occidental characters.

While you consider whether Charlie Chan was a caricature, a representative of Chinese culture, or just a fictional gimmick, consider the fact that he became popular among Americans without playing the stereotype of an inscrutable foreigner. And consider the fact that he had been highly popular in China, which has produced several Charlie Chan movies over the decades. Shocking as it may seem, audiences in China actually found Chan to be a sympathetic portrayal of their culture. The Chinese consider his character, as seen in movies, to be positive, not to say brilliant and funny—a definite improvement on the traditional view coming from the West. Many of the older Chinese may remember the string of movies, like Charlie Chan at the Olympics and Charlie Chan at Monte Carlo that appeared during  the 1930s. Forgotten now, they once appealed to a variety of audiences. As Chan sleuthed across the silver screen, he was entertaining millions of urban Chinese and winning fans among the British colonials who policed the foreign zone in Shanghai—the same colonials who had hung a sign over the entrance to a park that read, “Neither Chinese Nor Dogs Allowed.”

Charlie Chan: The Case of the Oriental Detective The Saturday Evening Post

“Squaw Fever,” art by Paul Rabut

"Squaw Fever"
by Paul Rabut
From April 26, 1947

This dramatic painting by Paul Rabut appeared in the 1947 story “Squaw Fever” by Bill Gulick. The caption reads: “All you got to do is put wings on your wagons an’ fly ’em into the valley. Ain’t that right, captain?” Illustrations like this make us wonder where the original paintings ended up.

“Love and Alexander Botts,” art by Hy Rubin

"Love and Alexander Botts"
by William Hazlett Upson
From March 14, 1953

“Only desperate measures, he saw, could keep this girl from marrying the wrong man. It was a challenge the greatest of salesmen couldn’t resist.”

I don’t remember the Alexander Botts stories in the Post, but I’ve heard from many readers who do. The hardworking salesman for the Earthworm Tractor Company was created by William Hazlett Upson, and readers couldn’t wait for his next adventure. This 1953 Hy Rubin illustration is captioned: “‘For every problem there is always a solution,’ (Botts) said. ‘I will start now looking for it.’”

It would be a bit irritating to have a boss that darned cheerful while one is nursing a broken heart, but that’s Botts for you.

“The Cold-War Blonde,” art by Robert G. Harris

"The Cold-War Blonde"
by Robert G. Harris bore
From September 26, 1959

It’s never good when there’s a Cold War raging, you’re rifling through a desk, and you get caught by the Russians–as this unfortunate young lady from the 1959 story “The Cold-War Blonde” by George Fielding Eliot did.

“She risked her honor for her country, and her methods were most unusual…” Whatever that means. The luscious artwork by Robert G. Harris bore the caption: “On the other side of the desk, ready to vault over it, crouched Zaspurov.” Can’t get anything by a danged Commie.

“Escapade,” art by Gilbert Bundy

"Escapade"
by Gilbert Bundy
From April 30, 1949

“Gary walked onto the terrace just as she got near the bottom. He could see she was pretty in the face too.”

Too? Apparently she was pretty from, er, other angles. How did people get themselves into these situations? Something about … she threw a boot at the house detective and it went over the terrace … or something. She is rather brazen, as we’ll see below.

“Escapade,” art by Gilbert Bundy

"Escapade"
by Gilbert Bundy
From April 30, 1949

“He was trapped in his fiancee’s apartment with a strange girl wearing his fiancee’s gown. Could you talk your way out of that?”

Well, I’d love to hear him try. It seems the young lady made herself at home. “I hope you’ll forgive me. I know I had a nerve, but I just couldn’t resist this,” reads the caption of her trying on the gown. Uh, yeah, nervy would be one word for you, toots.

Beware of young ladies who climb over your terrace. This was from a 1949 story called “Escapade” by George Marion Jr.

“Stolen Goods,” art by Perry Peterson

"Stolen Goods"
by Perry Peterson
From June 11, 1949

“She stared into the ladies’ dressing room and tried not to faint. It was terrifying to find a man in there—especially when he was dead.”

If three-way mirrors aren’t enough to put you off clothes shopping, this should do it. This is from a 1949 serial called “Stolen Goods” by Clarence Budington Kelland. The artwork was by Perry Peterson.

More inside illustrations to come!

Classic Art: Great Illustrators from Past Issues The Saturday Evening Post

By Harold Von Schmidt

By Harold Von Schmidt from May 10, 1947

“The word that she was to have a new boss—name of Bullwinkle—almost drove Tugboat Annie crazy. And as someone said: ‘When Annie acts crazy, somebody’d better start ducking!’” Yes, that unsinkable character Tugboat Annie began in The Saturday Evening Post. This illustration by Harold Von Schmidt leads to the question: whatever happened to these great paintings? But that’s another story. The caption reads: “‘Hey, Bullwinkle, ye wind-geared jackass!’ was Annie’s unladylike greeting. ‘Whyn’t ye get out an’ push?’” Gotta love her.

By Sam Bates

By Sam Bates from July 19, 1954

I wish I could count all the western stories that appeared in the Post over the years. This was “Gunslick” by Richard Wormser from 1954. The caption to artist Sam Bates’ illustration reads “Jack Gannon brought his hand too close to his gun, and Mel’s own iron was out and pointing. ‘You were saying, Mr. Gannon?’”

By Bob Hilbert

By Bob Hilbert from February 21, 1953

Sometimes I don’t know if it’s the artwork or the captions that grab me. The story is “Larcenous Lady” by William Fay from 1953 and the caption to the sexy illustration by artist Bob Hilbert says, “When he kissed her gently, she clung to him, murmured his name. He didn’t know she was also picking his pocket.” For more steamy images from romance fiction, see our Featured Artist piece on “Leading Ladies.” I’ll do more of these in the future.

By Amos Sewell

By Amos Sewell from January 31, 1951

I have to show two illustrations from the 1953 story “The Dangerous Angel” by Clarence Budington Kelland. This lovely illustration has the caption: “‘Madam,’ said the young man, ‘nothing could make you more conspicuous than God and nature already have done.’” Oh, brother. As pick-up lines go, that one stinks. And… did he throw his jacket down for her?

By Amos Sewell

By Amos Sewell from January 31, 1953

The artwork here and above from “The Dangerous Angel” was by Post cover artist Amos Sewell. His covers tended to be a bit more wholesome. This caption reports, “Hephzibah said, ‘A woman that’s built like you be is sure to come to a bad end.’”

By James Bingham

By James Bingham from September 26, 1959

Yes, boys and girls, the decades of the 1940s through ’60s brought many a Perry Mason story to Saturday Evening Post readers. This 1959 Erle Stanley Gardner serial was “The Case of The Waylaid Wolf.” Perry, at least according to the caption, is losing patience: “Mason came bolt upright. ‘Wait a minute!’ he snapped. ‘Try and remember just what he said about O.K.’”

More story illustrations coming up soon.

Classic Art: Story Illustrations, Part 1 The Saturday Evening Post

Post readers may not know that Doyle published several times in our magazine. Three of his short stories — none, alas, featuring Holmes — appeared in the late 1920s.

Without further ado, we present “The End of Devil Hawker,” a Regency-era adventure that include a cameo appearance by Lord Byron. It appeared in the Post on August 23, 1930.

The End of Devil Hawker
by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
August 23, 1930

(1859-1930) The creator of Sherlock Holmes wrote a variety of short stories, historical novels, non-fiction, and more. A physician, like Holmes’ companion Dr. Watson, Doyle only began because he had trouble establishing a lucrative medical practice. His creation of Holmes made him a global celebrity. In later years, he came to resent the detective he created, but realized that Holmes would always be a good financial provider for him.
Doyle was an athlete who excelled in soccer, cricket, and golf. In addition to his contributions to literature, Holmes was a humanitarian who championed the cause of George Edalji.

Edalji, a man with British and Indian parents was accused of blackmail and animal mutilations. Doyle’s non-fictitious detective work proved Edalji’s innocence and was a factor in the creation of the Court of Criminal Appeal in England.

Doyle’s three stories in the Post are “The Death Voyage,” “The End of Devil Hawker,” and “Maracot Deep.”

Read The End of Devil Hawker, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. August 23, 1930. [PDF]

The End of Devil Hawker The Saturday Evening Post