It’s the birthday of famed short story author O. Henry (1862-1910), known for writing stories with a *twist* at the end, such as occurs in one of his most famous and beloved stories, “The Gift of the Magi.”

Henry was born William Sidney Porter in Greensboro, North Carolina, and began his working life in his uncle’s drugstore, where he was an actual pharmacist by 19. (Either he was brilliant or there were only three drugs in those days.) He evidently used to please the townspeople by sketching them—something few pharmacists will agree to do for you today.

Henry moved to Texas, had a number of random jobs, and married Athol Estes in 1887, eloping against her mother’s objections due to Athol’s poor health. In 1891, he took a job at a bank and within three years was accused of embezzling, which is not really a skill banks are looking for, so he lost his job. His father-in-law posted bail and Henry began working full time on the humorous weekly he’d started that same year, The Rolling Stone, and when that venture failed, he wrote for the Houston Post. His work was gaining popularity when the embezzlement thing came to trial in 1896, and Henry skipped town, ending up in Honduras and (one would think) making any future Thanksgivings with his father-in-law incredibly awkward. But his wife was dying of tuberculosis, and he really really loved her, so he returned to Texas to be with her. He turned himself in to the authorities, his father-in-law again posted bail, and those tender-hearted authorities backed off his case until his wife died in 1897. (Isn’t that sweet? Just like a story.) Henry was found guilty in 1898 and sentenced to do a nickel up in the Ohio State Penitentiary (not to be confused with THE Ohio State University), where he worked as the night druggist at the prison hospital and wrote stories to support his daughter Margaret. He published under different names and his publishers never realized he was in jail. Henry had his own room in the prison hospital and never actually had to live in the cell block.

Henry’s sentence was reduced to just over three years due to good behavior. When he left prison, he took the name O. Henry, moved to New York City, and wrote a ton of stories. His first collection, Cabbages and Kings, came out in 1904 and drew on his experiences in Honduras; his next collections, The Four Million (1906) and The Trimmed Lamp (1907), were about New Yorkers. Henry went on to publish more collections, including Whirligigs (1910), which contained one of his most popular stories, “The Ransom of Red Chief,” originally published in The Saturday Evening Post. In “Ransom,” two hapless criminals kidnap a 10-year-old boy for ransom, but the boy is so rambunctious and difficult that they end up paying the father to take him back.

Henry’s final years were not happy ones. He remarried (unhappily) in 1907, and heavy drinking caught up with him shortly thereafter and ruined his health. He died of cirrhosis of the liver and complications from diabetes and an enlarged heart. But today the O. Henry Award is still considered one of the greatest honors a short story writer can receive.

Have a fine Tuesday and stay scrupulously honest to the data.