Evening Star Newspaper, September 21, 1930, Page 93

THE SUNDAY . STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, SEPTEMBER 21, America’s Greatest Writer of Short Stories Had a Romance of His Own Which Equaled Any of Those He Imagined, and the Tivie s It Would Be, “The Dimity. Sweetheart.” Here It Is Told by the Woman Who Knew How It All S tarted Dozon in 1exas. BY FRANCES GOGGIN MALTBY. NTO the life of Willilam Sidney Porter, who was later to be ‘known to the world as O. Henry, there came, at a @ crucial period of his development, & young schooigirl, Athol Estes. Their meeting was at Austin, Tex., yet feither Porter nor the girl who, was t0 become his wife, was-a Texan. The girl was a Ten- nessean from Greenville. Porter was born in Greensboro, N. C. The two towns are not so very far apart. But both “Will Porter” and Athol Estes had to be transported to Texas be- fore fate allowed them to meet, It so happened that I am in a position to pre- sent for the first time an intimate view of this touching love story, for I was Athol Estes’ deskmate in the high school at Austin during the time when O. Henry courted her, and we were very close friends then and later. The youthful romance explains much in the career of O. Henry, who became the best known writer of short stories that America has produced. His friends of the early days knew him as *Will Porter.” Life as a clerk in the drug store in Greens- boro seemed very flat and uninteresting to young Will. He grew restless. Friends invited him to visit their Texas ranch, and he accepted with joy. For several years he was under the spell of the spurs and the sombrero. However, he did not neglect his two best beloved posses- sions taken to the ranch with him from Greens- boro—a guitar and a dictionary. As he rode boldly and thought broadly, he mastered that dictionary from cover to cover. Was there ever a greater master of synonyms and antonyms? We have, too, frequent glimpses of him on the ranch in a hammock, swung between two mes- quite trees, twanging his beloved guitar and singing love songs. BO’I’H the dictionary and the guitar helped perfect him as a lover and a writer. So he came to Austin well equipped for the senti- mental journey that awaited him. He had friends in Austin, the Harrells. They, too, were from Greensboro. With the hospitality of the old South, they invited Will Porter for an indefinite visit. He stayed a year. It was a very carfree, happy year. The dictionary still figured, and the guitar. Wil Porter's chief delight was spelling bees. He could spell down all three of the Harrell boys and their neighbors. He joined the “Hill City Quartet” and organized “The Jolly Entertain- ers.” He liked to sit on doorsteps and sing “In the Evening by the Moonlight.” He did not meet Athol at once, but nlayed around with the friends of the Harrell boys. He joined the Austin Grays, a military com- pany of local prominence and fashion, and waxed his moustache. It was at this time that the little girl from Tennessee, with her bobbing curis that fell in Evening by the Moonlight.” However Athol ceased to be happy in her engagement. She had met Will Porter. He could talk love with more diversity of expressions than any man she had ever met. He was wonderful! ' SHE would discard Lee’s opal ring and his lock-bracelet. But Lee was carrying the key to the bracelet. He would not unlock it for ner. She wept bitter tears, but Lee was ada- mant. Athol’'s mother was Lee’s champion. Athol’s fancy for Will Porter would pass. It must pass, for she could never marry him with her mother’s consent. Athol firmly removed the ring, but she could not remove the brace- let. There were numerous dances, and at all of these she was a belle, dressed invariably in ruf- fled blue dimity, Will Porter adored her. The bobbing curls were piled high on the head now, for Athol was growing up. She carried hersef proudly, with a little queenly air that won for The little house “that could not fit too close,” where “Will Porter” took his bride and the two began housekeeping. tragically brief. *“rippling, shining cascades,” came on the scene, Bhe was just a high school girl, wearing long- sleeved white aprons, and made glad with the medal she had won in “English composi- It was then that I desked with Athol Estes. (Every one had deskmates in those days. It was the whispered confidences of this young girl that form the basis of this love story. Athol was engaged to another " wearing his lock-bracelet and He was Their period of happiness here was her a coterie of admirers. Through grammar and high school her desk always bristled with heart-offerings. There were candy hearts with impassioned verses, fruit, candy, flowers. She accepted these naturally and happily, as she accepted life. But this new love was some- thing different, something new and overpower- ing, something that, despite her previous en- gagement, she had never known. Will Porter went to see her mother. That lady was firm. She could never consent to marrying Will e would have weighty a reason for her objection. Athol was ' m&m&flrz 1930. A guitar and a dictionary were O. Henry’s teachers. From them he learned the words and music of the song of love, and Athol Estes was an eager listener. . William Sidney Porter, his wife Athol and daughter Margaret as they looked in 1895. young. She did not know her own mind. She was not capable of weighing the real serious- ness of the situation. Will Porter’s mother had died of tuberculosis, and Athol's father had died of the same disease. The mother told Will Porter these things with firmness and finality. He left, discomforted, distressed, yet firm in his resolve to marry Athol anyway. He no longer came to her home in the eve- ning to sit on the steps and sing. Never again did he, with the Hill City Quartet, or the Jolly Entertainers, serenade at the window of his love. He had passed that milestone on his sentimental journey. There was something of the caveman awakened in his soul by the op- position of her mother. Athol was his. She was the heart that heaven had made for him. Both were Presbyterians and believed strongly in predestination. Both sang in the church choir, It was after church one night that she promised to be his, regardless of parental objection. WHIN they did elope the time was quite un- premediated, quite unplanned. Athol had down the street in a hurry to get some little thing for her mother. She met Will Porter quite by accident. He persuaded her to go with him to the home of a mutual friend. From there they drove to the minister’s, “in the cool of a July day,” and were married. But marriage was not the end of their ro- mance. It was just a beginning. Life and love were beset by trials and joys, the essentials in the life of a man who was destined to be- come preeminent in the art of depicting human Could Athol have known the pain, the sorrow, was to have been have bravely on, happy In her love and In the thought that she was contributing in no small degree to the making of the great O. Henry. - The frequent pictures we have of Athal in his stories, vivid and pleasing, show distinetly what an impress she left on his life. He sketches her lightly but lovingly. In “Sisters of the Golden Circle,” he introduces you thus: “But I beg of you observe Mrs. James Wil- liams, Hatty Chalmers that was—once the belle of Cloverdale, Willingly had the moss rosebud loaned to her cheek of its pink—and as for the violet—her eyes will do very well as they are, thank you.” . ©O. Henry knew very little about clothes, as he, himself admitted. Some one asked him once why it was that he always dressed his heroines in dimity. “Why, it's the only ma- terial I know anything about,” he replied. “Athol always wore dimity. It always looked good to me.” ANYTHING Athol wore, or anything, she possessed “looked good” to Will Porter. He particularly admired her hair that she wore in bobbing curls when he first knew her. Do you recall Della’s hair in “The Gift of the Magi”? It fell in “rippling, shining cas- cades,” he writes. “Had the Queen of Sheba fived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would - have let her hair out of the window some day to dry just to depreciate her majesty’s jewels and gifts.” Della, as you may remember, sacrificed that hair to give her beloved husband, Jim, a Christ- mas present—a foolish fobchain. Athol sacri- ficed far more than her hair to give her be- loved husband a Christmas present when he was a fugitive from justice in far-away Hon- duras. It was a foolish little present as Della’s had been, but it was costly. - - Night after night, tired and ill, she on a point-lace handkerchief for which a friendly merchant had promised her $25. é With this sum she bought Will Porter the Mt~ tle niceties of toilet that she felt he must miss in that remote mosquito coast. The crown- ing glory of the Christmas box was a small vial of extremely expensive perfume that she knew would carry to him a message unexpressible in words. ¥ It was this box that brought him back to her side, there to remain until her loyal spirit took flight and left him, abject, alone. He made no defense against the accusation of embezzle- ment that he faced. What was there to fight for, now that she was gone? Let injustice have its way. He cared not at all. That was the attitude that he took. That was the atitude ° that he maintained throughout the trial. By his - attitude and conduct he aided and ahetted the jury in their verdict of “Guilty.” - Unproteste ingly, he went to Columbus, Ohio, sentenced to five years in the penitentiary, conscious of his -