by O. Henry
Murray smiled slightly and arranged two or three books and some penholders orderly on his small table. He would have spoken, but no appropriate words seemed to present themselves to his mind.
The prisoners had christened this cell-house, eighty feet long, twenty-eight feet wide, Limbo Lane. The regular guard of Limbo Lane, an immense, rough, kindly man, drew a pint bottle of whiskey from his pocket and offered it to Murray, saying:
“It’s the regular thing, you know. All has it who feel like they need a bracer. No danger of it becoming a habit with ’em, you see.”
Murray drank deep into the bottle.
“That’s the boy!” said the guard. “Just a little nerve tonic, and everything goes smooth as silk.”
They stepped into the corridor, and each one of the doomed seven knew. Limbo Lane is a world on the outside of the world; but it has learned, when deprived of one or more of the five senses, to make another sense supply the deficiency. Each one knew that it was nearly eight, and that Murray was to go to the chair at eight. There is also in the many Limbo Lanes an aristocracy of crime. The man who kills in the open, who beats his enemy or pursuer down, flushed by the primitive emotions and the ardor of combat, holds in contempt the human rat, the spider, and the snake.
So, of the seven condemned only three called their farewells to Murray as he marched down the corridor between the two guards—Bonifacio, Marvin, who had killed a guard while trying to escape from the prison, and Bassett, the train-robber, who was driven to it because the express-messenger wouldn’t raise his hands when ordered to do so. The remaining four smoldered, silent, in their cells, no doubt feeling their social ostracism in Limbo Lane society more keenly than they did the memory of their less picturesque offenses against the law.
Murray wondered at his own calmness and nearly indifference. In the execution room were about twenty men, a congregation made up of prison officers, newspaper reporters and lookers on who had succeeded
Here, in the very middle of a sentence, the hand of Death interrupted the telling of O. Henry’s last story. He had planned to make this story different from his others—the beginning of a new series in a style he had not previously attempted. “I want to show the public,” he said, “that I can write something new—new for me, I mean—a story without slang, a straightforward dramatic plot treated in a way that will come nearer my idea of real story-writing.” Before starting to write the present story, he outlined briefly how he intended to develop it: Murray, the criminal accused and convicted of the brutal murder of his sweetheart—a murder prompted by jealous rage—at first faces the death penalty, calm and, to all outward appearances, indifferent to his fate. As he nears the electric chair he is overcome by a revulsion of feeling. He is left dazed, stupefied, stunned. The entire scene in the death-chamber—the witnesses, the spectators, the preparations for execution—become unreal to him. The thought flashes through his brain that a terrible mistake is being made. Why is he being strapped to the chair? What has he done? What crime has he committed? In the few moments while the straps are being adjusted a vision comes to him. He dreams a dream. He sees a little country cottage, bright, sun-lit, nestling in a bower of flowers. A woman is there, and a little child. He speaks with them and finds that they are his wife, his child—and the cottage their home. So, after all, it is a mistake. Some one has frightfully, irretrievably blundered. The accusation, the trial, the conviction, the sentence to death in the electric chair—all a dream. He takes his wife in his arms and kisses the child. Yes, here is happiness. It was a dream. Then—at a sign from the prison warden the fatal current is turned on.
MURRAY HAD DREAMED THE WRONG DREAM.
CHRONOLOGY
NOTE ON THE TEXTS
NOTES
Chronology
1862
Born William Sidney Porter on September 11 in Greensboro, North Carolina, the second of three sons of Algernon Sidney Porter and Mary Jane Virginia Swaim. Father, born August 22, 1825, in Guilford County, North Carolina, attended Jefferson Medical College in Pennsylvania in 1845–46, although he never graduated, and during the Civil War treats Confederate soldiers at a hospital set up at the Edgeworth Female Seminary in Greensboro. Known as a heavy drinker and a distracted parent, he is preoccupied with the notion of inventing a perpetual motion machine modeled on a waterwheel. Mother, born February 12, 1833, in Greensboro, is the daughter of the editor of the Greensboro Patriot. Parents married April 15, 1858. Brother Shirley Worth, called Shell, born in August 1860; he will spend much of his working life as a laborer in Carolina lumber camps.
1865
Brother David born March 26. Mother dies of tuberculosis, September 26. Porter, father, and brothers move to the home of paternal grandmother, Ruth Porter, who runs a boardinghouse there. Infant David dies of tuberculosis soon afterward.
1867–76
Enrolls in the small private school operated by a maternal aunt, Evalina Swaim, known as “Miss Lina”; he will be a student there for the next nine years. Becomes known for his shyness, his occasional practical jokes, and his skill at drawing cartoons and likenesses. His love of reading is encouraged by Miss Swain; favorites include the works of Charles Dickens and Sir Walter Scott, Sir Richard Burton’s The Anatomy of Melancholy, Edward FitzGerald’s translation of Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, and Edward William Lane’s translation of The Arabian Nights. He later writes, “I did more reading between my thirteenth and nineteenth years than I have done in all the years since.”
1877
His formal schooling at an end, begins to work in the drugstore of his father’s brother, Clark Porter.
1881
Becomes a member of the North Carolina Pharmaceutical Association, and thus a registered pharmacist. Becomes known for his sketches—in both pictures and words—of customers.
1882–83
Suffers from a bad cough. Thinking that a pharmacy is a poor environment, a local doctor, James K. Hall, invites Porter to travel with him and his family in March on a trip to Texas, where the Halls’ four sons live. Stays at the sheep ranch of one of the sons, Richard, in La Salle County, and spends two years there, sleeping outdoors for the most part. Makes frequent visits to another Hall son, Lee, a former Texas Ranger turned rancher. Does a minimal amount of ranch work; occasionally serves as ranch cook. In a letter home, describes his changed appearance: “long hair, part of a new sombrero, Mexican spurs,” and “wild, untamed aspect.” Teaches himself Spanish. Produces forty illustrations for a book, never published, to be called Carbondale Days.
1884–85
In March, moves to Austin, the capital of Texas and the fourth largest city in the state. Initially stays at the home of another family from Greensboro with four sons, the Harrells. About three months after his arrival in town, gets a job as a drug clerk at Morley Brothers’ Drug Store but quits in less than three months and is unemployed for the better part of a year. Starts submitting skits and verses to magazines, with no acceptances. Wins a place in a singing group, the Hill City Quartet, which performs frequently around town. Courts Lollie Cave, and, in a private joke with her, calls himself “O. Henry,” his first use of the name. She turns down his marriage proposal (she later reports). Begins courting Athol Estes, an Austin high school girl originally from Tennessee.
1886
In the fall, is hired as a bookkeeper in an Austin real estate firm, for a salary of $100 a month.
1887
Takes a job as a draftsman in the Texas Land Office, where he will work for four years. Becomes engaged to Athol in June, just before her high school graduation. On July 1, they meet by chance in Austin and—without informing Athol’s mother or stepfather—are married at the residence of the Reverend R. K. Smoot, pastor of the Southern Presbyterian Church. Starts publishing humorous verse, sketches, and jokes in the Detroit Free Press and a New York publication called Truth (which paid him $6 for two pieces).
&n
bsp; 1888
Athol becomes pregnant. The couple rents a house on the 500 block of East Fourth Street in Austin. A son is born on May 6 but lives only a few hours.
1889
Produces twenty-six illustrations for a book by J. W. Wilbarger, Indian Depredations in Texas. Moves to a cottage at 505 East Eleventh Street. On September 30, Athol gives birth to a daughter, Margaret Worth. Athol recovers slowly from the birth and shows symptoms of tuberculosis, from which her father had died. For the rest of her life, she suffers effects from the illness.
1891
Loses job in the Land Office because his political patron is forced out of his own position. Hired as a teller at the First National Bank.
1894
Buys a printing press and with a friend, James P. Crane, starts a weekly humorous publication they will eventually call The Rolling Stone. It never reaches a circulation more than 1,500. Most of the content of the eight-page paper is produced by Porter himself, writing in his spare time from his work at the First National Bank. In December, discrepancies are found in his books at the bank, and he resigns.
1895
In April, The Rolling Stone suspends publication. At a U.S. grand jury hearing in July, bank examiner F. B. Gray provides evidence that on fifty occasions Porter embezzled bank funds, for a total of $5,654.20; bank employees testify, to the contrary, that the discrepancies were a result of an unfortunate series of errors. He is not indicted. In October, accepts a job as a writer at The Houston Post at a salary of $15 a week (later raised to $25) and moves to Houston, later joined by Athol and Margaret. Contributes cartoons and writes a daily column, “Some Postscripts,” for which he adopts the pen name “The Post Man.”
1896
In February, as a result of F. B. Gray’s efforts, Porter’s case is resubmitted to the grand jury and he is indicted. He is arrested in Houston and taken to Austin, where he is released on bond after two days in jail and returns to Houston. Begins to write longer sketches for the Post that anticipate the themes and technique of his later work. Leaves Houston by train in July, ostensibly to return to Austin to stand trial. In fact, he travels to New Orleans, where he takes temporary newspaper jobs. After several weeks, travels by boat to Honduras, the only Central American country that has no extradition laws with the United States.
1897
In January, because of Athol’s poor health, returns to Austin, again traveling through New Orleans, to turn himself in. Spends most of his time over the next several months nursing his wife. Athol Estes Porter dies July 25, at the age of twenty-nine. Sells his first proper short story, “The Miracle of Lava Canyon,” a western tale, to the McClure Syndicate, which publishes it under the byline W. S. Porter.
1898
Embezzlement trial begins in February. Asks family and friends to stay away from courtroom; does not speak in his own defense during the three-day trial. Witnesses, backed up by documents, testify that in 1894, two separate deposits, totaling about $850, were made at the First National Bank, that Porter received the cash, and that he did not record the transactions. Deliberating less than a day, the jury reaches a guilty verdict. Continues to submit short stories, now as “Sydney Porter.” In March, sentenced to five years in the Ohio State Penitentiary, the lightest sentence allowed by law. Enters the penitentiary on April 25. Shortly after his arrival, assigned to be night druggist in the prison hospital and given his own apartment in the hospital wing. Adopts the habit of working on short stories after midnight. Over the course of three years in prison, produces fourteen stories, several submitted under the name “O. Henry”; three of them are published while he is in the penitentiary. His mother-in-law and Margaret travel to Tennessee, and later to Pittsburgh, where Athol’s stepfather, P. G. Roach, takes possession of a hotel. Margaret is told that her father is a traveling salesman.
1900
Given the job of secretary to the steward of the prison, which he considers, he writes to his mother-in-law, “the best position connected with this place. . . . I . . . am absolutely without supervision of any kind.”
1901
Released from prison on July 24, his sentence reduced by two years for good behavior. Travels to Pittsburgh where he is reunited with Margaret, now almost twelve. Spends roughly nine months there, during which nine stories are published in national magazines. The majority carry the byline O. Henry.
1902
Gilman Hall, the editor of Ainslee’s, to which Porter has contributed several stories and poems, advances $200 to make it possible for Porter to travel to New York. Arrives in early April; Margaret remains in Pittsburgh with her grandparents. Takes up residence in a hotel on West 24th Street in Manhattan. Consumes alcohol heavily, averaging, according to a friend, two bottles of whiskey a day. Publishes seventeen stories over the course of the year. Conceals his time in prison from his friends and associates; will continue to do so for the rest of his life.
1903
In December, contracts with the Sunday World newspaper to contribute a short story every week, for $100 a story. The arrangement lasts more than two years and produces 113 stories, including “The Furnished Room,” “That Last Leaf,” and “The Gift of the Magi.” From this point on, all his work is signed “O. Henry.”
1904
An article in The Critic identifies O. Henry as “Sydney Porter, a gentleman from Texas.” Moves to a house on East 24th Street, near Madison Square, and shortly thereafter to nearby Irving Place. In November, McClure, Phillips & Co. publishes Cabbages and Kings, a book of interconnected stories set in a fictional Central American country. McClure will publish all of his books for the next four years. Reviews are generally good, with the Bookman calling it “a book of very unusual interest and cleverness.”
1905
Signs a five-year, first-reading contract with Munsey’s magazine; he will be paid ten cents a word for accepted stories. Corresponds with a boyhood sweetheart, Sara Lindsay Coleman, who is still living in North Carolina.
1906
In April, publishes The Four Million, a collection of stories set in New York and almost entirely taken from his contributions to the World. Title is a reference to both the approximate population of New York and “The 400,” a list of socially prominent residents of the city published in the New York Times in 1892. Receives mainly positive reviews.
1907
His output, prodigious for the previous five years, begins to slacken; publishes only eleven stories over the course of the year. Publishes two collections of his past work, The Trimmed Lamp: And Other Stories of the Four Million in April and Heart of the West in October. The latter contains western-set stories, to a large extent from early in his writing career, and receives unfavorable reviews, the Nation’s reviewer calling it “cheaply clever.” Moves from Irving Place and settles in the Caledonia Hotel on West 26th Street. Sara Coleman travels to New York, and on September 11 (his birthday) they meet for the first time since childhood. He proposes marriage but cautions her not to respond till she has returned home and received a letter from him. The letter describes his conviction and imprisonment—apparently the first time he has told the full story since his release. She accepts; they are married November 27 in Asheville, North Carolina. Gilman Hall is the best man. The couple honeymoon in Hot Springs, North Carolina. On return to New York, they take an apartment at the Chelsea Hotel, on West 23rd Street; Porter works at the Caledonia. The marriage is unhappy from the start.
1908
Aware of the need for money to support his wife and daughter (who now lives with the household) and maintain rooms in two hotels, plus a summer cottage at Good Ground, Long Island, increases his production, publishing twenty-nine stories over the year. In the fall, moves to an apartment on Washington Place. The Voice of the City: Further Stories of the Four Million, his third collection of New York stories, is published in May and receives good reviews. An es
say in the North American Review says O. Henry “has breathed new life into the short story.” Writes eleven new stories about a con man named “Jeff Peters”; along with three previously published ones, they make up a book called The Gentle Grafter, published by McClure, in October. Doubleday, Page & Company becomes his publisher and, for the first time, he earns royalties on his books. The company advances Porter $1,500 to write a novel, but he apparently never begins work on it.
1909
Complains to friends and associates of poor health. Publishes only eight stories and two collections of past work, Roads of Destiny in April and Options in October. Continues discussions with Doubleday about his proposed novel, which he intends to call The Rat Trap and which, he writes to an editor, will take its “hero . . . through all the main phases of life—wild adventure, city, society, something of the ‘under world.’ ” In April, interviewed for the first and last time, by The New York Times. Sits for a photographic portrait by W. M. Van der Wyde. Spends the bulk of his working time collaborating with Franklin P. Adams on a musical comedy, Lo!, based on Porter’s story “To Him Who Waits.” Lo! opens in Aurora, Illinois, on August 25; plays in midwestern cities for fourteen weeks before folding in December. Accepts $500 from a theatrical producer, George Tyler, for the rights to his story “A Retrieved Reformation.” In the autumn, joins Sara in North Carolina, in hopes of improving his health. Appears to give up drinking.
1910
The adaptation of “A Retrieved Reformation,” written by Paul Armstrong and titled Alias Jimmy Valentine, opens in Chicago and ultimately becomes a worldwide success. Returns to New York (Sara remains in North Carolina), ostensibly to work on another play for Tyler, an adaptation of his story “The World and the Door.” Health steadily deteriorates. Another collection of New York stories, Strictly Business: More Stories of the Four Million, is published in March. Begins a story for Hampton’s called “The Snow Man” and one for Cosmopolitan, “The Dream.” Rarely leaves his room at the Caledonia. On June 3, telephones a friend, Anne Partlan, for help. She arrives to find him semiconscious and a doctor has him admitted to Polyclinic Hospital on East 34th Street. Diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver, diabetes, and a dilated heart. Dies on the morning of June 5, some three months before his forty-eighth birthday. His last words are “Send for Mr. Hall.” The New York Herald reports the cause of death as cirrhosis of the liver. A staff writer for Hampton’s, Harris Merton Lyons, completes “The Snow Man”; “The Dream” is left unfinished. After a funeral at the Little Church Around the Corner, his body is taken to Asheville by train, and buried there in Riverside Cemetery.