There are so many names lost to time. So many local legends that have gone unsung over the passing generations. For nearly every city, town, hamlet or area have their stories to tell of some hulking giant or quick-witted huckster famous for feats of daring. But not all such local heroes can lay claim to the kind of storied immortality like the old legends of Beowulf or Gilgamesh. Indeed, sometimes the stories die with the storytellers. However, other times chance, fate or luck comes into play so that one lost to time may yet be found.


Big John Moriarty was a big man, a giant, in fact. Or so declared those who bore witness to a man who has since faded into distant memory. But there was a time and a place where the name of Big John Moriarty lent no small impression upon the minds of those who heard it. However, today, all that is left to us of this neighborhood superman is but scraps of legacy that once resounded in stories told in Eastern Maine.

Big John Moriarty was born between 1866 and 1871 and lived no more than thirty years thereafter, but his legacy is presented here so he may live again in story. And, perhaps, time will be kind, and more tales of Big John Moriarty will yet be unearthed. For now, here is what we know of this ‘streetwise Hercules’ who once did the work of multiple men and tossed troublemakers two at a time halfway across the street. John Moriarty, known all over eastern Maine as “Bartley Kelley's Giant,” died in Oldtown hospital recently of typhoid fever, says the Lewiston Evening Journal. He has been for nearly two years employed as construction hand on the Bangor & Aroostook railroad, and later on the new Ashland branch, where he became sick. Moriarty stood 6 feet 9¾ inches in his stocking feet, [socks without shoes] and generally weighed 210 pounds. Had he been fat his weight would have been enormous. But he was very lean. “Why,” said Barney Kelley, “you could feed the giant on porterhouse steak and eggs and he wouldn’t gain a pound; but he was an awful tough man!”

His arms were very long and he had hands as powerful as the paws of a gorilla. All over his body the muscles stood out in lumps and cords, and his strength was immense. He could do as much work as two ordinary men, and on that account his services were always in demand at more than common wages. He was especially serviceable as a derrick man— [operator of a device used in hoisting] he could turn the heavy crank all day without tiring. An as was like a toy in his hands, a cant-dog [tool for upturning logs] like a walking-stick. He could up end and shoulder a small log or piece of timber that two ordinary men could barely lift, and in every department of hearty manual labor he was a very Hercules.

Many stories are told of the giant's mighty strength. Once, when two saucy woodsmen “guyed” him [made fun] about his towering height, he seized them by the shoulders, one in each hand, and knocked their heads together till their teeth rattled—and they were two good-sized men. At another time some toughs came into a barroom where he was and proceeded to “clear the place out.” Moriarty took them, two at a time, and pitched them half way across the street as though they were so many ninepins. John Moriarty, a cape Breton giant, at work in the Maine woods, measures in his stocking feet 6 feet 9½ inches and wears No. 18½ moccasins. He is nineteen years of age. Maine’s biggest and strongest man, John Moriarty died in Oldtown recently, of typhoid fever. He was 6 feet and 9¾ inches tall, and weighed 240 pounds. He was broad and big-boned, and some idea of his build may be had from the fact that, despite his weight, he was a very lean man. In practically every way he could do as much work as two men, and he was known all over the State for his feats of strength. He worked most of the time in the lumber camps, and was valuable as a peacemaker as well as a worker. Many stories are told of his prowess in putting down fights and small riots. He was a very peaceful and good-natured man. John Moriarty, who has been at work in Samuel Hodgkins’ lumber camps at Black Brook, was in the city Monday, and while on the street attracted considerable attention. He stands 6 feet 9½ inches in his stocking feet, is 25 years old and wears No. 18 moccasins. His feats of strength are renowned among the lumbermen. He left for Brownville, where he has made a contract to cut wood. Doubtless his swinging of the ax will compare with but few Maine choppers.—Bangor News.

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