They make up O. Henry’s “Tales of the Town,” his “Postscripts and Pencillings,” and his “Some Postscripts.” Save for the publication for a brief space of The Rolling Stone, a rollicking sheet that was issued irregularly over the period of several months, they represent the sum total of O. Henry’s newspaper writings.
All too brief to suit lovers of O. Henry’s work, they nevertheless betray the writer’s knack of getting at the heart and mind of his fellow beings. They show him as well acquainted with the newsdealer on the corner as with his favorite hotel clerk; as much at home in talking with a puncher from the Panhandle as in conversing with a drummer from St. Louis. Into them the master of the short story managed to crowd uncanny description, insight into human nature, and the highly dramatic.
O. Henry came to the Post at the invitation of its editor and his first column appeared in the Post on October 18th entitled “Tales of the Town.” The caption soon changed to “Postscripts and Pencillings” and later still to “Some Postscripts.”
Some days a column of seven-point! Others only half a column. Still others when “Some Postscripts” failed to appear at all.
But always, whatever the quantity, the quality of O. Henry’s output remained at high level.
As in the later days in New York, O. Henry was exceedingly modest and shy. He “took a little getting acquainted with” according to tradition handed down. A quiet, unassuming chap, with eyes which seemingly saw little and yet took in everything, the new member of the staff soon acquired a reputation of being the best listener in town. In addition, he was a painstakingly accurate reporter and observer.
O. Henry came to the Post under his real name of Sidney Porter, but it was as “The Post Man” that he referred to himself in his writings. The pronoun “I” seldom appeared.
According to friends, O. Henry, or Sidney Porter, possessed the most valuable trick of the interviewer. When the telling of a story lagged momentarily, he would insert just the right question in just the right place. And this show of interest never failed to stimulate the teller to a fresh spurt.
Favorite haunts in Houston were the lobby of the old Hutchins House, the Grand Central Depot, and the street corners. He used to sit for hours in the hotel, his eyes playing over the faces of guests. Mayhap he was studying types, who knows? Certain, though, it is that hotel attaches grew to love the author of “Some Postscripts,” and they frequently went out of their way to send him word of stories on the old hotel’s ancient register.
At the Grand Central Depot—Grand Central then as now—“The Post Man” was loved by all who knew him. From station master to porter, from superintendent to telegraph operator, the writer of “Some Postscripts” got help and inspiration for many of his brilliant anecdotes and human interest stories.