Did the Antrim giant join war effort?

BREAKING news this week on one of the longest running missing person enquiries on record...

Readers may recall the hunt for the Antrim Giant, but before we reveal the latest lead, a recap.

This tallest of tall tales first came to light in August 1903 when a ‘remarkable piece of left luggage’ was discovered in a London railway station.

The container was huge, tipping the scales at a shade under two tonnes.

It had been left at the Broad Street Depot back in 1876 but had recently been moved to the Worship Street Goods Depot of the London and North Western Railway Company.

Nobody seemed to know what was inside. Curiouser and curiouser.

Finally the decision was taken to prise off the lid and take a peak inside - and it would be fair to say that it created a sensation.

The crate contained what appeared to be a body. An enormous petrified body.

A reporter from the Freeman’s Journal raced to the scene to record ‘a curious story from London’, under the headline ‘An Antrim Giant’.

So what was so special about the eponymous passenger who had rested for decades in a forgotten corner of a railway station?

‘The figure is said to be perfect, and is that of a man 12 feet two inches in height with a chest girth of 60 and a half inches and arms four and a half feet in length’, noted the scribe.

‘It is noticeable that there are six toes on the right foot...’

So how had this massive figure found himself abandoned so far from home?

A key figure in the story is a Mr Dyer, who had been digging for iron ore and other precious minerals in the Antrim area.

But by chance he exhumed something potentially much more precious - a ‘giant’ which he reckoned could be worth his weight in gold at the travelling ‘freak shows’.

The man was dragged from his native peat and a huge crate was built, while the enterprising Mr Dyer considered how best he could turn his find to his ‘pecuniary advantage’.

It is understood that he exhibited his discovery briefly in Dublin, but he knew the big money would come by joining the circuit in England.

Mr Dyer and his man set sail for Liverpool and soon he put him to work, inviting thrill-seeking Victorians to cast their eyes on his anatomical wonder for sixpence a head.

But he wanted more. He needed a partner who could help him fully exploit his extraordinary ‘find’. Enter Mr Kershaw, an experienced showman.

They met in Manchester, but their working relationship was rocky at best - and soon Mr Dyer decided to rip up the deal and secretly ferry the giant onto the capital.

But Kershaw was onto him and sought a court order preventing him from collecting the imposing specimen until the question of ownership was resolved.

Unfortunately for the pair, it never was - and the Antrim Giant remained where he was, being quietly buried again under unclaimed luggage.

Which created something of a quandary for the railway company. Dyer and Kershaw were asserting their rights, and it certainly did not belong to them, to the decision was taken to let the dead man rest.

And that, said the Freeman’s Journal, was a shame.

‘It is a treasure which would attract thousands to see it - were public exhibition again possible’.

And then the trail went cold.

The website Mummipedia - yes, who knew there was such a thing - reported that the whereabouts of the crate were currently unknown.

‘The giant was left with the rail company and nothing was heard about it since’.

So was he still there? Surely it would only be good manners to check?

After all, the Antrim Giant may be the tallest person who ever lived.

Famous ‘Irish Giant’ Brendan Holland, who was the doyen of 18th century London society under the stage name Charles Byrne, was put on display in the Hunterian Museum for over two centuries - to the consternation of his ancestors who want him back.

And he was undoubtedly a huge man - seven foot six in his stocking soles.

But the big man from Antrim was almost five feet taller.

Even Robert Pershing Wadlow, the American widely regarded as the all time champ, was a mere eight foot eleven. Our man was literally head and shoulders above him.

So, had the company checked for any oddly big pieces gathering dust in lost and found?

The Antrim Guardian posed that question to London Northwestern Railways two-years-ago.

“Do you have a giant twelve foot man in your lost luggage?” we asked.

Sadly, they didn’t seem to be able to put their finger on him.

“Not sure about lost giants,” said a representative.

“Definitely not seen this large chap on our services. I wouldn’t think they would fit on our trains.”

However, ever helpful, they added that they would ‘keep an eye out’ for the big man.

And it seemed that the legend of the Antrim Giant would end there.

But his week there has been a breakthrough - but not necessarily a happy one.

The year was 1940 and London was being battered by the Luftwaffe, who had rained down bombs in what became known as the Blitz.

And a report in December of that year suggested that the local lad was enlisted to assist the war effort. I kid you not.

But a word of warning giant fans - this twist brings new information to the table.

Yes, brace yourself, it was suggested that our petrified friend may not have been all that he seemed.

‘Most people, I suppose, have been upset at one time or another by some occurrence which to others seemed trivial’, said the reporter.

‘Such grief was mine when the BBC announcer at tea-time yesterday stated that a huge, crude stone figure, nicknamed Patrick, which had lain forgotten at a London railway station for some 60 years has been used to fill a bomb crater’.

And there’s more. Aside from the indignity of ending up in landfill, it was suggested that ‘Patrick’ was a mere ‘statue’. In short, a fake created by hoaxers to dupe the gullible.

And now he was gone.

‘I have sometimes thought how interesting it would be if ‘Patrick’ were taken out of pawn, as it were, and installed in the Belfast Museum with history attached.

‘Fool that I am, I never brought the idea to the notice of the proper authorities.

‘Now I am left with only an unreasonable grief and a faint, futile hope that they have marked the giant’s grave’.

So there you have it. Mystery solved. Alas, the Antrim Giant is no more. May he rest in peace.