The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1915-01-10

the proportions of the Stevenson
myth. which was so i'll nat |
urcdly punctured by Henley. 1t appears
to be- inevitably the fate of the writers
wrter'-and -. Henry comes under
this heading notwithstanding his works
universal appeal--to dsntegrate into q
sort Of grotesque myth after his death. |
AS a matter of fact Sidney Porter was,
in a sort Of a way. n good deal Of a myth
before he died. He was so inaccessible
that a good many otherwise reasonable
people who unsuccessfully sought to
penetrate his Gordon and to force their
way into his cloister drew bountfully
upon their imaginations to save their
faces and to mask their failure
Especially tight were the lines he
drew about his homely sanctuary during
the last three or four years of his life,
when he did his writing in the front
room Of a little two room and bath
apartment on Twenty-siXth street not
many doors from Broadway and lived
HIS domestic hours in handsome
roomy apartment, comfortably but by
no means richly furnished, in the huge
old red brick apartment house called
the Chelsea far over in West Twenty
third street.
negroes hallboys, elevator boys, tele-
phone boys and the like guarded the
writer from intrusion when he was
working in his writing den in the tiny
fiat in Twenty sixth street. The negroes
were emphatically ION his staff" The
inquirer for .. Henry whom they did not
know got mere shakes Of their woody
heads when he told them that he wanted
to see NJ Porter. They did not even
ask such an inquirer II he had an APP
pointment with the writer. Occasionally
when wrought upon by quarters or half
dollars pressed into their hands, they
would take the trouble to insert the
plug in the telephone switchboard and
pretend TO call up the writer's apart
ment on the second floor. But nearly
always this performance was without
result Rarely was there any reply.
The writer knew in advance who was
likely to call upon him and when. HIS
reluctance to meet strangers amounted
TO a passionate aversion. But When
Won had been taken into his favor ana
confidence you did not stop In the down
stairs hall to parley with the GORDON
OF negroes You walked up the snort
spIral flight Of steps to The second moor
the guardians of the hall making no
attempt TO deter you. and Wheh you
stumbled through the dark passageway
TO the first front door you came 10 anu
canned thereon squat, norid raced
blue eyed man, nearly always III nis
sbirt sleeves. would open the door and
10 Won as "Bill" or Colonel" and
,,on were welcome to stay as long as
you liked
one usually went through the per-
,orr,ance upon catching sight OF the
nencu which he had laid aside by the
stack Of yellowish copy paper on th'
oat topped desk pressed against the cas-
warI-one usually mumbled somethlht
about hating 10 intrude when ne "a'
working. but the writer took that re-
mark at IFS valuation. Had he not peer
wilIinr to knock off his work for cha
with Won you never would nave 80
nv The negroes down below IN the nan
Very often. too. you saw that not nv
had been written on the upperlilos
sheet Of the stack OF yolIowish cop,
naner. | have sat in the pack ROOM VI
that apartment for hours at sIle'o
reading while this master snort s'o'
writer with his pencil poised over ~
naper stared at the wall in 'front.' Oh MI,
without ever writing word IL IL We,
10 remember this when you see II stateu
as often il has been stated IN rem
niscenCes" Of q. Henry, that ne was
rand writer who dashed or ms s'ol'e
q, vhita heat. II ever there was
writer other than "R. l.. s., whos
smoothlv reading. sometimes even MP
nantlv suaye work was produced b
.the labor Of the file" who had 10 hgh
for the word or phrase he wanted ina
writer was O. Henry. Joseph Conrad
who. bv the way, was o. Henrys on
literary idol-has somewhere describe
with an almost painful vividness IN
"sweatful agony" which he endures !
the putting together Of his wonderfull
colorful haunting phrases. Sidne
Porter did no, "writhe on the ground
while engaged in the composition
his stories, but composition was shar
and hateful drudgery to him. He wa
too honest with himself and with h
friends TO profess that he loved tn
wiring trade. on the contrary h
frankly owned that he loathed II. y
/ had a prosperous peanut stand Q
Broadway" he once said to me,
would never write another line
During the last few years OF his III
he was beleaguered by editors OF mag
zines for stories Had he written VIII
both hands day and night as fast
pencil could be pushed over paper
never would have been able to furnis
one-tenth the amount of matter th'
he was beseeched by editors to pr
duce for them. He was not man
grant himself the luxury Of little meal
nesses; but Time brought him son
compensations which must have bee
very sweet indeed to one who had bee
compelled to put up so hard night Il
recognition. l must advert to such !
instance.
I was with him at the Twenty-siX
street place one afternoon when bat'
OF mail was brought to him. one
the envelopes caught his eye. on Il
envelope was printed the name OF OF
OF the leading fiction publications in
the world, If not indeed the most in
portant of them all. Many times duriI
the years when he had been strugglil
for foothold as a writer of short stori
\ he had submitted his tales, !ncludil
the best of them, TO the editor OF Il