Spring Heeled Jack

My father would have been four, my mother's father fourteen on the last reported sighting of Spring Heeled Jack in Liverpool. It may have been the very last sighting of a character* that haunted not only the Victorian imagination but the dreams of small children growing up in the 1950s, such is folk memory—to the extent I’m still aware of him in the 21^st century, though I no longer have bad dreams he might carry me away for being naughty.

What makes these sightings relevant to my father and grandparents, was that they occurred in their neighbourhoods when they were children or adolescents, so the experience would have been directly or indirectly lived.

The first reported sighting of Spring Heeled Jack was in the outskirts of London in 1837 when a young Mary Stevens was out walking late one evening. Suddenly a tall dark figure leapt out at her, blocking her path. He was tall, cloaked, with sharp features and clawed hands. His eyes were red, his grin wide and unsettling. The final straw was when he spat out blue flame. Mary screamed. The figure turned, and with unnatural agility, leapt over buildings and walls. He struck again a few days later causing the terrified driver of a horse drawn carriage to lose control and crash. Soon all of London was talking of Spring Heeled Jack.

His final appearance in London took place on February 19^th in 1838 when a young Jane Alsop opened the door to a man claiming to be a police officer and asking urgently for a light; they had captured Spring Heeled Jack in an adjoining lane!

She ran for a candle but on returning to the doorway he ripped off his cloak to reveal a monstrosity: fiery red eyes, a nightmarish grin and tight white clothing that looked to her to be oilskin. Blue fire billowed from his lips, and he ran at her with clawed hands. He caught up with her, clawing her neck and arms. Her screams alerted her sister who came running to her help, and the monster escaped leaping over hedges and walls. 

Sightings were rare after that though he became a staple in comics and ‘Penny Dreadfuls’. In the 1870s he appeared again. In 1872 The News of the World reported that Peckham was “in a state of commotion owing to what is known as the ‘Peckham Ghost’ quite alarming in appearance.” He appeared again in Sheffield later that year, and in 1877 was shot at by troops garrisoned in Aldershot. He was seen in Lincolnshire that same year.

St Francis Xavier church in Salisbury Street.

In 1888 he appeared in Everton, North Liverpool where he appeared on the roof top of Saint Francis Xavier church in Salisbury Street, and again in 1904 where he performed an encore in William Henry Street. 

It was in William Henry Street, one moonless night, that a  twelve year old boy called Tommy crept out from his house like adventurous boys are wont to do. Wandering through the dim, gas-lit streets he heard an eerie cackling sound then, turning a corner he bumped into a tall, cloaked figure with fiery red eyes. Luckily for Tommy, the apparition leapt out of sight, bounding over chimneys and roofs to effect his escape—though to my mind it should have been Tommy bounding over roofs to effect his escape.

William Henry Street**

Soon all of North Liverpool was talking about Spring Heeled Jack. There were more sightings. People were afraid to go out at night. Again, it made the News of the World.

Spring Heeled Jack – Ghost with a Weakness for Ladies:

“Everton (Liverpool) is scared by the singular antics of a ghost, to whom the name of Spring Heeled Jack has been given, because of the facility with which he has escaped by huge springs, of his would be captors to arrest him. William Henry street is the scene of his exploits . . . So far, the police have not arrested him, their sprinting powers being inferior.” 

 

 

Despite the poor sprinting powers of Liverpool’s finest, the locals were more agile.

One legend has it that on the final sighting of Jack, an angry mob chased him as far as Toxteth where he leapt over the reservoir and was never seen again. 

The end of the story.

*Or is it? He was most recently sighted near the border between Herefordshire and Monmouthshire during the 1980s. A Mr Marshall was slapped by a strange jumping figure that bounded away across open countryside, his eerie cackling echoing across the fields. In my defence, I wasn’t living in Monmouth at the time, though I remember experimenting with springs tied to my shoes as a boy.  

**With thanks to this excellent site