His Writers' Workshop? A Prison Cell

The life of William Sydney Porter came with a twist at the end. The man who achieved fame under the pen name "O. Henry" had spent more than three years in federal prison on embezzlement charges—a secret that he carried to his grave when he died on June 5, 1910. Not even his daughter knew. It took the investigations of a professor, C. Alphonso Smith of the University of Virginia, to unearth the startling truth. Shrewd observers might have guessed that Porter was hiding something. During his decade-long run as one of America's best-loved writers, which included authorship of "The Gift of the Magi," he avoided conversations about his past. He turned down requests for interviews. He dodged cameras. Yet when Smith announced his discovery in 1916, the effect was the opposite of what Porter had feared. Rather than shunning him as a criminal, the public became fascinated by a personal history that might have been lifted from one of his own tales.

I know the name, but not his work. And I seem to remember there is a bar near Union Square, below Gramercy Park, that is named O'Henry. I've been there, maybe when I worked at MetLife. So I went searching on the Web, and found it via Google maps.

Pete's Tavern, on 18th Street and Irving Place, that's the place. Here is the banner from its website. Also, a picture from Panoramio.

That's what I remember.

Pete's Tavern first opened its doors in 1864. From that date to today it has remained open. This achievement makes Pete's Tavern both an official historical landmark and the longest continuously operating bar and restaurant in New York City. It even stayed open during Prohibition: disguised as a flower shop. Pete's Tavern is proud of its history and steadfastly maintains its traditions. It still looks as exactly as it did when its most celebrated regular O. Henry wrote the classic Gift of The Magi here at his favorite booth by the front doors, in 1902.

From its website, some of its history.

One hundred years after his death, Porter's legacy as a master of the short story appears secure. In his hometown of Greensboro, N.C., the local historical museum plans to reopen next month after extensive renovations. It will include a new section on O. Henry. In Texas, where Porter spent his early adulthood, there are museums devoted to him in Austin and San Antonio. In New York, his final home, the book industry selects a set of O. Henry Prize Stories each year and publishes them in a special volume.

Which is curious, based on this next paragraph: Lots of high-school students still receive a taste of O. Henry, but college professors rarely put his work on their syllabi. To be sure, the bulk of Porter's output was middling. He specialized in pleasant diversions whose main purpose was to entertain. The tales can feel contrived. Even the best bear the marks of hasty composition. Several legends surround the writing of "The Gift of the Magi," but all agree that Porter cranked it out under deadline pressure in just two or three hours. Despite the story's popular appeal, it's easy to believe that "The Gift of the Magi" would have benefited from a second draft.


If so, if his work is middling, why did O.Henry become so well regarded?