The legend of Russian Jack

Or a lesson in how you should never let the facts get in the way of a good story

Outside the Halls Creek shire office in the far north-west of Western Australia, is the statue of a man known as Russian Jack, who, at one time, had the reputation of being the strongest man in Australia. His feats of strength, such as bending a “oneand-a-half-inch octagonal steel crowbar across his knee”, and his incredible endurance, reportedly wheeling a sick man in a wheelbarrow 480km through the Great Sandy Desert to Wyndham, are both legendary, and in many instances, apocryphal. And, though he was described by some as “a magnificent specimen of manhood,” he wasn’t two metres tall as a few newspapers of the day claimed. The Halls Creek sculpture, by Perth artist, C. P. Somers, was unveiled in 1979 as a tribute to the tough old gold prospectors of the 1800s. Ironically, in spite of being a Russian immigrant, big Jack was regarded by his peers as personifying the great Australian tradition of mateship, for the statue’s inscription reads: “His feat symbolised the mateship and endurance of the pioneers of the region, then lacking all the amenities of civilisation.” The “feat” is his wheeling of a sick Englishman named Halliday to Wyndham (or was it Halls Creek?) but far from it being 480km, Peter Bridge in his book Russian Jack, correctly puts the distance at closer to 50km. Which is still an awfully long way to push a wheelbarrow loaded with supplies and a sick man through the desert. While alive, Russian Jack’s loyalty and kindness to his fellow prospectors was legendary and, since his death, his reputation has been magnified in Western Australian folklore.

Photograph of Russian Jack (aka Ivan Fredericks) taken in 1890

A Grand Monument

The Russian Jack statue, financed by a grant from the Western Australian government and a contribution from the Shire of Halls Creek, stands about two metres high, is two metres in length, a metre wide and weighs about two tonnes – a grand monument indeed to a magnanimous spirit. Russian Jack was born in the White Sea coastal city of Arkhangelsk (Archangel) in Northern Russia in 1852/53, and not 1864 as indicated on his headstone and as claimed by a number of other sources. His real name was John Frederick Kirkoss (aka John Fredericks and Ivan Fredericks). When the Westralian Worker (Perth) reported his death in 1904, they gave his age as 49 but he was actually 52 or 53 when he passed away from pneumonia in a Fremantle hospital in April of that year. He arrived in Derby, WA, by ship in 1886 and so began the legend. While nothing approaching two metres in height, Russian Jack was around the six-foot mark, give or take an inch, and weighed about 16 stone (100kg). One of Jack’s mates remarked that he had exceptionally big forearms, a barrel-like chest and didn’t know his own strength. However, by another observer Jack was conversely described as “Stumpy in body, grizzled of face, unable to write but able to curse, a gentleman to females and a lout to gentlemen…” H. Wilson, in Gateways to Gold, absurdly wrote: “Russian Jack was reputed to be an exceptionally strong and powerful man, over seven feet tall. When he leant across to whisper to the barmaid…all the glasses shook.” What was undisputed was his love of a drink and a hearty meal. “He had occasional drinking bouts but was always a gourmand (glutton),” said one prospector who befriended him. “Three pounds (1.5kg) of steak, a dozen eggs, a loaf of bread and a pound of butter would disappear in no time. “He enjoyed emu eggs. “There was a ‘terrible lot of eating in them,’ Jack would say.”

Abnormally Large Wheelbarrow

In the town of Derby, Russian Jack constructed for his own use an abnormally large wheelbarrow, with shafts 214cm. long, and a specially fashioned wide wheel (which he illegally obtained from an unidentified source) to make it easier to negotiate the sand-dune country where he went in search of gold, often pushing loads in excess of 50 kilograms. It is said that one time, when Jack and a mate were halfway to the Kimberley country, his companion fell ill so Jack loaded his swag and stores onto his barrow allowing the sick man to walk alongside. Having travelled some 60km it became obvious that Jack’s mate was too sick to walk any further, so the big Russian put him on top of the load and wheeled him along the track until he died. Jack then buried his body beside the road and continued the journey alone. During one of his first overland jaunts, the big Russian came across a couple of elderly prospectors who were too exhausted to carry their swags any further and were resting in the shade of a tree, waiting for fate to deal the next hand. Russian Jack quietly loaded all their gear onto his already overburdened wheelbarrow and helped push the weary diggers to the nearest settlement, 60 kilometres away, over waterless plains. During the latter part of the journey, one of the old men collapsed and had to be loaded onto Jack’s wheelbarrow for transporting to the nearest settlement. And I have already mentioned the Good Samaritan act he performed for the desperately ill Englishman, Halliday. In 1907, the eccentric journalist, Daisy Bates, while travelling to the Murchison area, met the big Russian. She wrote: “About 25 miles (40km) from the Peak Hill goldfields, we had stopped our buggy to wait and rest when out from a bush camp stepped a big, burly man with a huge melon in his hands, and from his mouth boomed the words: ‘Melon very good, lady. You like rest and eat?’

No Answer Would He Give

In a moment I thought of Russian Jack and, sure enough, it was he. But no answer would he give to my question about his work or love for his mate; all I could persuade him to say was: ‘That was long time ago. That was nothing.’ “His mate had married and settled down, and Jack was cultivating a vegetable garden for the Peak Hills goldfields, and was in charge of the coach horses plying between the gold area and the coast. “Still he kept his good name with everybody and helped many a ‘down-andouter. “In honesty, in singleness of purpose, in the clean simplicity of his life and his religion, this Russian Jack was a great man, but greatest in his ideal of the real friendship that means so much when men are thrown together far back in a continental interior like Australia.” Another recorded incident concerns Russian Jack and a mate returning from an unsuccessful prospecting venture inland when their food supply ran dangerously low and they decided to shoot a kangaroo to help feed themselves along the track. Jack’s mate spotted a kangaroo and decided to chase it on foot but unfortunately, he tripped and broke a leg. In typical fashion, Jack lifted his injured mate onto his wheelbarrow and pushed him to safety. When the pair eventually arrived in town, one of the locals mentioned that Jack must have travelled over a certain rough track, one noted for its pot holes, stones and gullies. Jack told the admiring on-lookers: “I pushed him over 100 miles (160km) in that damn wheelbarrow.”

The Man With The Broken Leg

The man with the broken leg, from Russian Jack’s wheelbarrow, remarked drily: “Yes, and I swear so far he hasn’t missed a rock.” On the early goldfields of Halls Creek and Cue, the name of Russian Jack quickly acquired the aura of a legend. An article appearing in The Murchison Times newspaper noted: “Our old friend, Russian Jack, whose memorable feats wheeling a heavily laden wheelbarrow all the way from the coast to the Kimberley goldfields has returned to Cue ...” Russian Jack, it is recorded, was one of the earliest arrivals on the Murchison goldfields. He was also one of the first visitors to Cue at a time when it was only a scattering of tents and makeshift buildings. The police station comprised two tents and a makeshift yard for the police horses but there was nowhere to secure any law breakers, so it was decided to transport a large tree stump at Milly Soak to Cue on the back of a wagon. The stump was set up near the police tents and a strong chain was attached to it. Cue now had a goal with offenders secured to the stump for the duration of their sentence or at least until they sobered up. While prospecting in the Cue area, Russian Jack came into town one time for provisions, and as was his habit, he also stopped at the hotel for one beer too many. When the time arrived for Jack to return to his prospecting site, he hastily threw onto his great wheelbarrow all his groceries, a bag of potatoes, drilling gear and explosives. His dynamite was secured in a wooden box but a tin of 50 firing caps, which were extremely sensitive objects, were casually thrown on top of the unwieldy load.

The memorial to Russian Jack at Halls Creek

Carelessly Arranged

Jack tied nothing down. Everything on the wheelbarrow was carelessly arranged. With the slightest mishap, the firing caps could easily explode, causing severe damage or worse. Jack did not care; he was happily drunk. Some observers on the main street watched apprehensively as Russian Jack effortlessly took up the shafts of his great wheelbarrow and uncertainly tried to push it in the right direction. But, being inebriated, he progressed haltingly, weaving all over the road. A policeman, observing Jack’s erratic steps, remarked to a companion: “Russian Jack has a load up inside as well as on his barrow,” and decided to intervene by escorting him safely out of town. Along the way, however, the policeman spotted the tin of firing caps balanced precariously on top of the load. Jack informed the constable he had recently received some money for gold nuggets sent to the bank, and was intent on proceeding to his mine, the “Fairlight”, about 13km out of town. For his own safety, the policeman decided to arrest Russian Jack but was uncertain how to do this, as the big Russian was an unusually strong man and had to be handled cautiously at the best of times. Jack continued staggering all over the road, bellowing out a song in his raucous, booming voice. As he drew near the police tents, several policemen intercepted Jack, suggesting quietly that he should re-pack his barrow. Ever so diplomatically, the police offered the big man a cup of tea as, together, they planned their course of action in getting the drunken Russian safely out of town and back to his bush camp. By this time Jack was thirsty again and he agreed to sit down quietly for a spell. As Jack rested, he started to doze off and the police took the opportunity to repack his barrow securely while waiting for the billy to boil. Soon Russian Jack was fast asleep, so the policeman handcuffed the big man to the huge log, their intention being to restrain him until he had sobered up and was capable of undertaking a safe journey back to his camp.

Chained To The Huge Stump

Overnight, the on-duty policeman was summoned urgently out of town to Cuddingwarra, about 16km to the west. In his haste, the policeman completely forgot about Russian Jack being left chained to the huge stump near the police tents. Later in the day the policeman suddenly remembered the big drunken Russian he had left behind at Cue, chained to a log, and hastily rode back to town. Upon arrival at the police tents he was stunned to find that Russian Jack was gone, and so was the stump. It would have taken three or four men to lift the ‘gaol’, he reasoned, so perhaps some of the residents had moved the stump and Jack to a place out of the sun. When the policeman conducted a quick search of the town site, at the hotel he discovered Russian Jack sitting quietly in the bar having a conversation with the barman. The stump was propped up on the counter and Jack was still chained to it. It was learnt that Jack had awakened during the night with a terrible thirst. He could see a waterbag hanging inside one of the police tents but when he called out for a drink, there was no response, so he heaved the great stump up onto his shoulder and walked to the tent. He then promptly emptied the waterbag and, satisfied, went back to sleep. When he next awakened, it was daylight, and the merciless sun was beating down on him with a vengeance. Desperate for a drink, and not particularly fussy how he obtained it, the big Russian wrenched the tree stump from the ground, balanced it on a shoulder, and walked away in search of refreshment at the nearest pub, which was almost half a kilometre away. When the hotel opened its doors, there was Russian Jack, chained to a stump, asking for a cool ale to prevent him dying of thirst.” “I thought I left you in goal Jack,” the policeman said. “So you did,” Jack replied, “but it was low-down of you to leave me all night with no drink. Anyway, you have one drink with me now and I’ll go back to gaol.” With an amazed police officer in tow, Russian Jack again shouldered the gaol stump and strolled back to the police tents where he restored the makeshift ‘gaol’ to its original location.

Removed Jack’s Chain

At the police camp the officer removed Jack’s chain and put a billy on the campfire which they shared. Jack’s physical strength was known to be immense and many were the stories told of his magnificent feats. At one time, when working as a labourer on Doorawarrah Station, he was dismissed by his employer for wrecking equipment. Jack allegedly bent a 4cm octagonal crowbar over his knees in an angry moment. As a gold prospector Russian Jack was ordinary and when he wasn’t on the gold, which was often, he turned his hand to whatever put food on the table. On a Peak Hill goldfield he ran a crude eating house for a time. A Frenchman, Albert Duclos, set up his camp close to Russian Jack’s business, hoping to steal some of his customers. Jack took quick action and chased the Frenchman off the field with a meat chopper, threatening to “make him the mince meat”. In his grubby eating house the big man waited on his customers, all of them rough gold diggers, without ever wearing boots and with his unwashed trousers rolled up to the knees. A passing coach driver who’d paused outside Jack’s premises, offered him a drink from a half full bottle of whiskey. “No, thanks,” said Jack. “I’m not drinking now.’ When the offer was repeated, Jack grudgingly consented to “haff a sip”. He then poured the half bottle of whiskey into a mug and downed the lot in one gulp. The coach driver’s only comment was that he would have hated to have seen Jack when he was drinking. One time Jack was asked what he would most like to achieve in his life. He said he would like to retire near a city in Western Australia, grow lots of vegetables, and then sit down by himself and eat the lot.

Severe Bout Of Pneumonia

According to the official burial report, Russian Jack died in a private hospital, Mandurah Road, at Fremantle, Western Australia, on 17th April, 1904, aged 40 years (though we know he was at least 12 years older), after succumbing to a severe bout of pneumonia. He was buried two days later in a local cemetery in the public grave section CC, No. 245. His burial particulars state his parent’s names were unknown nor was it known whether he was ever married. At the time of his death it was believed he still had a brother living in Archangel. His burial was presided over by Roman Catholic priest, John Smythe, and drew a crowd of three – George Murdoch, J. O’Donnell and W. H. Jones. Russian Jack’s last years were spent in a shelter for the homeless with the occasional stay in gaol for being drunk and disorderly. He died intestate and was buried in a pauper’s grave with no headstone. His death certificate recorded his profession as “market gardener” revealing that the big man might have finally achieved his life’s ambition of having his own private supply of vegetables. Three weeks after he died, the following obituary appeared in the Murchison Advocate: An old identity, John Fredericks, but a hundred times better known as “Russian Jack”, died a few days ago in a private hospital at Fremantle. His death came as a great surprise, for no one could imagine death in the prime of life to one of such herculean strength. He was so far as physical manhood was concerned, a picture, but he combined the strength of a lion with the tenderness of a woman. Though he had a loud-sounding, sonorous voice that seemed to come out of his boots, there was no more harm in it than in the chirp of a bird. Many instances are known of his uniform good nature, but his extraordinary kindness was manifested a few years ago to a stranger suffering from typhoid fever whom he picked up on the track in the Kimberley district. The stranger had a wheelbarrow and some food, and the burly Russian took the sick stranger and wheeled him nearly 300 miles to a haven of refuge. “Russian Jack”, if there are Angels in Heaven who record the good deeds done on earth, thou wouldst have sufficient to thy credit in that one action to wipe out many of the faults that common flesh is heir to.” Almost a century later, Russian Jack was chosen as “a symbol of nobility” by the Russian Orthodox Church and a marble headstone and cross was erected on his grave.

This simple headstone now marks the final resting place of Russian Jack, even though they got his name and date of birth wrong