William Porter and short stories

There once was a man by the name of "O. Henry", as many know him, whose real name was William Sidney Porter. He was born in the year 1862 and at the age of fifteen, he dropped out of school and began working. Not only did he write, but he sketched, became a licensed pharmacist and sheep rancher, a draftsman and businessman, and last but not least, a teller with the First National Bank in Austin, Texas. William Porter worked as a teller for a few years but afterward decided to resign from his position and began writing a humor weekly named the Rolling Stone. However, it was not successful.

After this failure, he began writing a column for the Houston Daily Post; in the meantime he was being accused of embezzling funds from his old employer, the bank. After being accused of embezzlement, he decided to leave his family and flee to New Orleans. From there he went to the country of Honduras, but soon afterward had to return to his wife because of her health. She died and in 1898 William Porter was found guilty of embezzlement and sentenced to prison in Ohio for five years.

He was imprisoned for only three of those five during which he wrote and had published an adventurous book of stories known as Cabbages and Kings. After he was set free, William Porter was no more and identified himself as "O. Henry". This adopted name would shield Porter's true identity. After prison, he moved to New York City, where he wrote and had published over three hundred short stories in a little over ten years. What makes these short stories famous are their unexpected endings. Porter died in 1910 and took with him the acclamation, America's favorite short story writer.

The following summarized short story, written by O. Henry, is one of my favorites. Its title is "The romance of a busy broker" and I hope you'll be pleasantly surprised by its famous unexpected end.

The setting takes place in a stockbroker's office by the name of Harvey Maxwell. The scene that is about to unfold is seen through the eyes of a man by the name of Pitcher, who had worked many years for Maxwell. The scene opens with Pitcher with a look of surprise and interest on his face. His boss arrives to work with his secretary... Harvey runs to his desk and begins vigorously digging into a stack of letters and telegrams. His secretary is known as Miss Leslie who had held the position for a year. She is described as young, beautiful, and dresses simply.

This particular morning Miss Leslie's seemed to shine with pleasure. Her eyes are described as being bright, and face the color of soft pink. Not only did she look different, but her normal routine was out of sequence. Normally when she entered into the office she went directly to her desk but not today; today she remained in the outside office instead, where Mr. Maxwell's desk was located. This seemed very odd to Pitcher. Miss Leslie walked over to his boss's desk quit close. Mr. Maxwell asks her, "Well-what is it? Is anything wrong?" Most people would look you in the eye when asking a question like this, not Maxwell, he was to busy with his letters and telegrams. Miss Leslie replied, "It's nothing".

She begins moving toward the direction of Pitcher. She asks him, "did Mr. Maxwell ask you to hire another secretary yesterday?" Pitcher replies in the affirmative. "I asked the secretarial school to send over a few candidates this morning." None had shown though. Miss Leslie replied that she would "do the work as usual, then, until someone comes to fill the place."

A little while later, a lady enters the scene that was there for the new secretary job opening. "Here is the lady from the secretarial school," Pitcher said to Maxwell. "She came for the job." Maxwell turned around with his hands full of papers and ticker tape. "What job?" he yelled. His face looked angry. "The secretarial job," Pitcher said quietly. "You told me yesterday to call the school. I asked them to send one over this morning." "You're losing your mind, Pitcher! Why would I tell you a thing like that? Miss Leslie has worked well for a whole year here. The job is hers while she wants to stay. There is no job here, Madam!"

As the day wore on the office began to slow down and the noise to quiet. Mr. Maxwell was standing by his desk when through the window the aroma of flowers wafted in to envelope his sense of smell. "Maxwell stood still. This was Miss Leslie's smell, her own and only hers. The smell seemed to bring her before him. The world of the stock market disappeared. And Miss Leslie was in the next room-only twenty steps away. "I'll do it now," said Maxwell softly. "I'll ask her now. Why didn't I do it long ago?"

What Maxwell does next, makes me ask the question can anyone actually be that forgetful?

Maxwell runs to Miss Leslie's office and places his hands on her desk which was still full of papers. " Miss Leslie," he said, hurrying, "I only have a moment to talk. I want to say something important in that moment: Will you be my wife? I haven't had time to show you, but I really do love you. Speak quickly please-there's the telephone."

"Why-what are you talking about?" cried the young lady." Miss Leslie began to cry. But then she smiled through her tears like the sun through the rain. She put her arm around the stockbroker's neck. "I know now," she said. "It's this business that put it out of your head. I was afraid, at first. But don't you remember, Harvey? We were married last evening at 8:00, in the little church around the corner." Miss Leslie was not a Miss but a Mrs. ... apparently her husband forgot.

Unexpected indeed!