THE ROLLING STONE

AHUGE boulder carried from the Lake District by the sheer force of nature now has pride of place just north of Liverpool where its journey ended.

During the Ice Age, which began around two and a half million years ago and lasted until around 12,000 years ago, this great rock was carried down by a glacier to the coastal town of Crosby.

The 20-ton Crosby Stone is one of many of the town’s weird and wonderful links to the past. It stood in the centre of the town for many years until, in 1926, it was relocated to local Coronation Park as an important and revered local artefact.

Sadly, in May 2013, it was severely damaged by vandals and so is now even more protected and revered by the more stable majority of Crosby residents!

But there are ancient human relics in the area too. Indeed, prehistoric human footprints have been seen on the beach at Formby, a little further up the coast, for a very long time. However, recent high tides and stormy conditions on the Mersey have now revealed some on Crosby shore too.

These prints can be seen as two parallel sets of tracks running for a length of around five metres. They are believed to have been made by three people, probably male, who each stood at around six feet tall. The fossilised footprints probably date from around 4,000 to 6,000 years ago.

Whether Jack Johnson was born in

Crosby or somewhere else entirely is not certain, but it is known that he was born in 1829. What has also been discovered is that at least his years as a young man were adventurous.

He was a soldier who fought in the Crimean War, which lasted from 1853 to 1856. After this he became a seaman, sailing between Liverpool and New Orleans on ships bringing cotton into England.

Sometime around 1871, Jack gave up his life on the ocean wave for one on land as a gamekeeper.

He was watching over game fowl on Crosby Marshes, probably for the local wealthy, Blundell family. Here, he built a ramshackle hut for himself out of planks, sailcloth, and driftwood, and made the marshland his permanent home.

Jack’s hut stood on the beach at the end of what is now Hall Road, and he kept himself to himself, seldom talking to anyone and not usually welcoming visitors.

His life at war and at sea, as well as on the often harsh and bleak marshes, had given him weather-beaten features and a ruddy complexion, so he was also known as Roast Beef!

Jack became almost a total recluse but supplemented his meagre income by catching and selling fish and shellfish, and he largely lived on gifts of food left for him by local people.

These kind folk did not simply give him scraps or leftovers, but actually took turns in cooking meals for him, so he was clearly liked by the community as well as being well cared-for by them.

At some point early in his life Jack had married and had a son. What became of his wife is unknown, and the only thing that is known of his son is that, in 1902, he fought at the siege of Ladysmith during the Boer War.

Jack died sometime in the 1920s and buried in a local pauper’s grave, unmarked, unknown, but at least not forgotten.