Just how much work Charlie Chan actually got done for his employer, the Honolulu Police Department, is open to conjecture, since he was seemingly always on the road: "in Rio," "in Panama," "at Treasure Island," "in Paris"

The character of Charlie Chan was created by Ohio-born writer Earl Derr Biggers, and although Charlie's first film appearances were peripheral, Fox soon put him front and center, and actor Warner Oland played the part with aplomb.

The formula was, for the most part-- Charlie Chan of the Honolulu Police Force, crack detective and worldwide celebrity, happened upon a good case of murder in an interesting or exotic locale, usually not Honolulu. One or two of Charlie's sons (usually identified chronologically: #1 son, #2 son...), detective wanna-be's themselves, offered "Pop" their assistance. They would then spend the rest of the film getting in the way and providing comic relief, until Charlie solved the case in spite of them. Oh, and of course along the way Detective Chan could be counted on for numerous pithy Chinese proverbs (some pithier than others).

Fox's casting for the Chan series was generous: Boris Karloff, Leo G. Carroll, Lionel Atwill, Cesar Romero, and some other pretty talented stars of the era appeared in supporting roles. And then there was Pauline Moore.

When Oland died in 1938, Sidney Toler stepped in to carry on the role, and the series hardly missed a beat. The son of choice about this time became Jimmy Chan, #2 son, played by Victor Sen Yung. In the earlier Oland Chan films, Keye Luke had played #1 son, Lee Chan, debuting in 1935's "Charlie Chan in Paris."

Wartime brought an end to Fox's Chan pictures, but after a brief hiatus Charlie returned (again with Toler playing the role), with markedly poorer production values, in several films made by the Monogram studio. Monogram introduced a new wrinkle to the formula, adding the histrionics of black actors Mantan Moreland and Willie Best, in roles that seem almost offensively stereotypical in today's light. When Toler died in 1947, Roland Winters went through the motions for a few more films for Monogram, but the magic was gone.