The Legend of Badass Jack (Adventurer)

Jack Krolland was an outlandishly colorful, little known Canadian adventurer who spent most of his life traveling the globe. An Indiana Jones of our own, if you will. A rare breed of man with a life story that just never seems to originate here in Canada. Perhaps that’s due to our subdued and conservative nature, Canadians tend to ignore our cultural icons and entrepreneurs. Anyways, it’s all a mystery to me why a character such as Jack Krolland and others like him, are not in our schoolbooks for our youngsters to emulate and learn from.

Jack was born in or around 1910 on a small farm by Three Wise Cows Lake near the village of Paradise Hill, Saskatchewan. He remained there and became educated, at least until grade nine when the school marm requested his absence (perhaps somewhat prophetically he was known as that little “Jackass Krolland” at school).

the next few years were spent rather uneventfully toiling on the small family farm, work that Jack rather quickly developed an allergy for. The one window to the outside world kept showing up monthly at the farm - a copy of the National Geographic magazine. Jack being an avid grade nine level reader, lost himself in these colorful and at times revealing (if you know what I mean) pages. Sometime during this period, Jack decided that frigid winters, thick calluses on his farm boy hands, playing Sunday baseball with the local Paradise Hill “Pickerels” (after his friends got out of church) was, although attractive, not what his hormones called for. Jack reached the seemingly inevitable conclusion that he would become a photographer for a magazine such as the one that came to his farm and so, to this end, went out and got himself a new fangled camera. I understand that this early and extensive photo portfolio on mating farm animals is displayed proudly in the Old Folks’ Drop-In Center next to the Dinky’s bar in Climax, Saskatchewan to this very day. Someday I’ll look.

jack then hopped a train to pursue his career as a globetrotting photographer at the age of seventeen. Photography was the first step on the path that was to become a lifetime of adventure that spawned future employ as a rum runner, “import/exporter” (if you know what I mean), prospector, model agent, coin and art dealer and beach merchant of fine shells.

as if that wasn’t enough Jack was also a rumored spy for various countries (or so he said when drunk and his previous and more conservative lines were ineffective tools of seduction), Spanish bull fighter (Jack never fought Mexican bulls as the beans in Mexico gave Jack intolerable gas. Due to this rather obvious and less-than-charming malady, he spent little time farting around that country) and between real jobs, a café owner (or cook depending upon who tells the story).

It was in Mexico that Jack received from the locals his rather odd nickname or handle “Bad As Jack”. To hear Jack tell the story Bad As Jack was coined after the locals witnessed Jack’s poker playing prowess and that “bad” is really slang for “good”. Jack always favoured himself as a dandy at the card table. When drunk however, Jack tended to forget about the old gambling adage that states “When at the poker table, if after thirty minutes you cannot pick out the patsy... You are the patsy”. Anyhow, the competing version on how Jack received his handle (also from Mexico) is the similar sounding name “Bud Uzz Jack... The foul gringo” that may have made reference to some malady Jack might have had after a long night in the company of tequila, cerveza, compadres, cards and especially, refried beans. Anyway, people who knew Jack were sure that he was headed for fame (or jail depending upon who tells the story) before he met his tragic, untimely death. Jack suffered a rather lengthy nude fall from a coconut tree in the Cook Islands. His demise occurred while climbing the tall plant to get mix for a Pina Colada for a red head: an act for which he thought he would receive certain rewards.

Now, why am I telling you this? Well, many of the recipes for our sauces and marinades are a result of Badass Jack’s worldly travels from his humble beginnings in Paradise Hill, Saskatchewan. Over the years Jack sent these exotic recipes home to his mom with little notes about his life as an “insurance agent”, “consultant” and “family man”. The reality was that Jack’s adventures took him on career paths that hoity people might not quite feel were as reputable as those in his notes to his mom. It should be shared with you that when Jack’s parents finally found out about Jack’s varying “occupations” and philandering ways, they could only take solace that he had not become a lawyer, banker or politician and really embarrass the whole farming family.

as you may well imagine, the recipes sent to Jack’s mom were placed in a box; I mean who knew a damn thing about cilantro, Indian curry, Thai spices, red bell peppers, etc. at that time in Saskatchewan? Anyway, the recipes have been passed down to me from my mother whose own mother was a “special friend” of Grandpa Badass Jack and it seems, received the recipes apparently in lieu of some sort of support payments; I just heard bits and pieces. I never really met “Grandpa Jack” as he died in what Grandma called an “embarrassing incident” before I could meet him. All I have is his diary, a couple pictures of him and a dog aptly named, SazzyDog, and these old recipes.

From my vantage point, based on the facts stated in Jack’s diary and verified by his mildly senile old, old former friend and “business partner” Curly Duke (told to me when he was having a “clear” day or, more correctly was having a dry day along with a “clear” day) Grandpa Badass Jack was quite the character. Ol’ Curly says Jack was always on the move with his “trading company” but never too worldly or wealthy to lend a hand to a woman in distress or to help the less fortunate with a rupee, quid, lira or just a little snort.

Jack’s adventurous nature and his selfless, giving ways are why I’m presently studying “photography” and starting some eateries with some descendants of my Grandpa’s friends and “business partners”. Perhaps I’ll publish Grandpa.