William Sydney Porter had an unusual personal history. He got a job as a teller and bookkeeper at a Texas bank when he was twenty-nine. He did what could be called some careless bookkeeping, and it appeared he may have embezzled some funds. No charges were made until about four years later when an audit found the previous shortages, and he was arrested. Bail was posted by his father-in-law, and Porter headed out to unknown places, living in Honduras for a while. When he returned to the states, he was indicted and sent to prison. It was there his talents ripened for writing creative short stories that featured a lot of twists and turns with surprise endings and a lot of witty narration; he actually wrote more than a dozen tales while behind bars.

From that writing while incarcerated he decided this is what he would like to do, and the decision led to 381 short stories over the years. He saw the name Henry in a newspaper society column, and that was also the last name of one of the prison guards he’d had. One or the other, perhaps a combination, led to him using it as a pen name. He felt he had to have one because publishers would be leery of using his material due of his lurid background.

In spite of the checkered past, he wound up with a very respectable reputation, and there’s a road in his birthplace, Greensboro, North Carolina, named O. Henry Boulevard, overlooking his misdeeds of the past. He was a heavy drinker, and the habit led to death at the early age of 47.

We begin with a story published in McClure’s magazine, December 1899. This was the first story published under the pseudonym O. Henry. Let’s listen.