O. Henry, with his characteristic humor, once advised: “The art of storytelling is to conceal everything that people are eager to know until your cherished views on unrelated matters are laid out.” His own “cherished thoughts” could serve as epigraphs for a narrative about this American writer: “Fate tosses you around like a cork in a bottle of wine opened by a waiter you didn’t tip,” “Life is what we value most and guard the least,” and “It’s not about the path chosen, but the inner need for that choice.”
Orphanhood and Consumption
The new resident of North Carolina, William Sydney Porter, was born on September 11, 1862, in Greensboro. At the age of three, the son of a doctor lost his mother to tuberculosis. His father moved with the child to live with relatives. The family lineage included English and Dutch colonists, and at that time, the writer’s uncle had just become the governor of the state. The boy was raised by his aunt, who owned a private school and devoted much attention to his education. After successfully graduating from Evelina Maria Porter High School in 1876, William continued his studies at Lindsey Street High School.
At 15, his aunt became his legal guardian, and by 16, he had embarked on his first profession. In 1879, Porter became an accountant, and a year later, at 19, he obtained a pharmacist’s license. While selling medicines at his uncle’s pharmacy, the talented young man also honed his artistic skills by sketching caricatures of customers. However, after showing symptoms of his mother’s illness, he had to leave his job. To change the climate, William traveled with a family friend, Dr. James Hall, to his son’s ranch in Texas. There, on the southern farm, Porter gradually recovered from his persistent cough by spending plenty of time outdoors.
The young man tended sheep, cooked for the cowboys, delivered mail, cared for animals, looked after children, and also read extensively while learning foreign languages through interactions with Spanish and German immigrants. When his health improved, William traveled with ranch owner Richard Hall to Austin. The energetic young bachelor had enough energy for everything: he worked as a pharmacist, bank teller, draftsman, and journalist, created his first literary works, participated in vocal and drama clubs, played guitar and mandolin, sang in the church choir, and was known for his sharp wit and sociable nature.
Between the Castle and the Court
During this time, Porter met the 17-year-old beauty, Ethel Estes—biographers believe this encounter occurred on March 2, 1885, during the laying of the cornerstone of the Texas Capitol. The writer’s beloved also suffered from tuberculosis, which led her mother to forbid William from seeing her unfortunate daughter. But who was she trying to stop? Porter had his plan, and he executed it: on July 1, 1887, the enamored couple eloped to marry in the parlor of the home of the Reverend of the Presbyterian Church, of which Estes was a member.
The newlyweds continued to perform together in amateur groups, and Ethel encouraged her husband’s writing endeavors. In 1888, just hours after their firstborn was delivered, he died. However, shortly after the loss of their son, Ethel became pregnant again and the following year gave birth to a daughter, Margaret. Supporting the family was not difficult for William. When his friend Richard Hall (the same one from the ranch) became the Texas state commissioner, he offered his friend a lucrative position as a cartographer in the General Land Office of Texas. This job paid $100 a month in 1887, and the building where Porter worked resembled a castle.
O. Henry with his wife Atoll and daughter Margaret
Meanwhile, Richard ran for governor in 1890, but fate was not on his side. The day after the new chief was introduced, in January 1891, Porter resigned and took a job at the First National Bank of Austin. For the same salary, William became an accountant and cashier. However, this experience turned out to be dramatic: in 1894, the accountant was fired due to a significant shortage of funds. Whether this was due to negligence or intentional embezzlement would later be determined by the court. For now, William was simply dismissed without any formal charges.
O. Henry – bank clerk
Never Say Never to Jail or Poverty
Alongside his work at the bank, the writer founded his own satirical weekly, The Rolling Stone, so he had a place to work full-time. The publication’s owner not only wrote texts but also illustrated his stories himself. This caught the attention of the editor of the Houston Post. The boss offered the talented colleague a job when Porter had to close his own project in 1895 due to unprofitability (the maximum circulation was 1,500 copies).
Houston Post page dedicated to the memory of O. Henry
Porter moved with his family to Houston. His job was to write a column, gathering ideas in the hotel lobby (this eavesdropping tactic always helped O. Henry in his creativity). However, the Houston Post only paid $25 a month for this—four times less than William had earned in better times. But this was not the biggest problem in his life. While Porter immersed himself in creativity in Houston, a storm was brewing in Austin. Following a financial audit of the First National Bank, a significant shortage was reported, and the dismissed Porter was federally charged with embezzlement.
The writer was arrested. William’s father-in-law posted bail, trying to protect the father of his granddaughter from prison. Until the court hearing, Porter was released, and he took advantage of this. On July 7, 1896, the accused did not appear in court. Through New Orleans, Porter fled to Honduras, where he spent six months in a hotel in Trujillo, working on his only novel, “Kings and Cabbage.” Among O. Henry’s works (his complete collection comprises 18 volumes), this literary masterpiece holds the highest place. It is in this creative treasure that the writer coined the now-popular metaphorical term “banana republic” over a hundred years ago.
Prisoner No. 30664
In Latin America, the writer interacted with the infamous train robber who later wrote a book about his friendship with O. Henry. A researcher of life, who himself found himself at odds with the law, could not help but be intrigued by the fate of such a colorful new acquaintance as Al Jennings. The impressions of human survival in a country ruled by the dollar were repeatedly used by the writer in his short stories with poignant morals.
O. Henry’s favorite characters are petty crooks who evoke ironic sympathy for their failed attempts to combat the hopelessness of life. And who could forget “The Gift of the Magi”—a Christmas parable about a young couple where the girl cuts her long hair to buy her beloved a gold chain for his pocket watch, while the boy sacrifices that very watch to give his beloved a set of precious combs.
Separated from his wife, who had gone to her parents with their daughter, Porter patiently waited for her and did not suspect that her health would prevent Ethel from coming to Honduras. Learning from a telegram that his wife was dying of tuberculosis, the fugitive returned to Austin on January 23, 1897, and surrendered to justice. The court turned out to be humane and took family circumstances into account when granting a reprieve. Ethel Estes died six months later, on July 25, 1897. O. Henry lived in seclusion with his wife’s parents and only dared to write again in the fall. In February 1898, he was found guilty of embezzling $854 and sentenced to five years in prison.
In March 1898, the writer was sent to serve his sentence in a prison in Columbus, Ohio. Prisoner No. 30664 accepted his fate, despite the many unresolved issues in his case. The bank’s accounting was flawed, and employees could take money from the cash register without the cashier’s knowledge. Of the $6,000 total shortage, $5,500 was returned by the bank owners, who testified in court on Porter’s behalf (his supporters also contributed $500). His pharmaceutical license allowed the writer to work in the prison hospital, where he was given a small room to write 14 stories.
No Happy Ending
It was in prison that the pen name “O. Henry” was born, first appearing in 1899 in a magazine publication under the story “The Christmas Sock of Dick Swiveler.” A friend of Porter’s from New Orleans sent his works under that pseudonym so that publishers wouldn’t learn of the author’s unfortunate circumstances. For good behavior, Porter was released early after three years and four months. Upon his release in July 1901, the writer returned to his 11-year-old daughter Margaret in Pittsburgh (his wife’s parents had moved with their granddaughter to Pennsylvania after their son-in-law’s conviction). The girl was not even informed of where her father had been all this time; she believed he was on a business trip.
After prison, the most productive period of O. Henry’s writing career began. To be closer to publishers, he moved to New York in 1902, where he wrote over 380 stories that were included in 10 collections. Critics referred to the author of poignant plots about human values as the “American Gogol,” “American Chekhov,” or “American Maupassant,” recognizing his ability to write with an “uncharacteristic American soulfulness.” But the writer paid a high price for such works. O. Henry’s complex biography continued to demand personal sacrifices from him. Remarrying in 1907 to his “school love” Sally (Sarah Lindsay Coleman also became a writer), whom Porter met back home during a trip to North Carolina, O. Henry quickly lost his last bit of health due to alcohol abuse.
O. Henry and his second wife Sarah
Porter’s new wife also wrote short stories, but their shared passion for literature did not contribute to family happiness. In 1909, Sally left her school sweetheart, and the following year, William Porter passed away. The 47-year-old writer died on June 5, 1910, from cirrhosis of the liver, heart enlargement, and complications from diabetes. His daughter, who died in 1927 from tuberculosis—the same disease that had claimed her mother and grandmother and undermined her father’s health—was buried next to him in Riverside Cemetery in Asheville (in Porter’s home state of North Carolina). The heir’s family life did not flourish, nor did her literary attempts. Unfortunately, O. Henry did not achieve the uplifting ending that so comforted readers in his books.