John Gagnon -- "Maine's Modern Hercules"

From Phil Gagnon

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An unsung hero, a gentle giant with curly brown hair and friendly blue eyes. A quiet man whose incredible strength brought him victory over “The World’s Strongest Man” in the winter of 1923.

Born in Caribou to Louis and Sophie (Lavasseur) Gagnon in 1883, John B. Gagnon made weight-lifting news wherever man gathered to test brute strength against all that seemed reasonable. Although known for his unorthodox techniques (he never formally trained), Gagnon’s sheer strength shadowed the performances of his contemporaries from 1909 through 1923, when he defeated New York’s Warren L. Travis for the unofficial title of “The World’s Strongest Man.”

The legend of John Gagnon began in the summer of 1909, about one year after he and his wife of Van Buren, Elizazabeth Michaud, settled permanently in Augusta after living in Waterville for three years.

The public’s first glimpse of Gagnon’s might came during a cornerstone laying ceremony in the capitol, when the young French-Canadian-to the dismay and pleasure of a roaring crowd-dangled an 1,800 pound block of granite between his legs, using a logging chain and a steel bar as a handle.

The Caribou native did not seek the spotlight, however. An easygoing man whose physical build (five foot, 10 inches; 230 pounds; 17-inch biceps) earned him immediate respect, Gagnon nonetheless relished his friends’ request for a private performance.

One of his favorite warm-up exercises was ripping a New York telephone directory in half. Another was bending railroad spikes double with his hands. But those feats were child’s play for the friendly giant, and only a prelude to the more spectacular strong man stunts Gagnon would perform after his cornerstone debut in Augusta.

Long before Gagnon’s highly-publicized match with Brooklyn’s Travis, then the holder of the Diamond Belt of weight lifting, promoters, fans and the press had tagged him “Maine’s Modern Hercules.” And the name seemed appropriate, as the amateur smashed one world record after another.

A blacksmith by trade, Gagnon also worked as a stage carpenter with the Augusta Opera House and operated a movie projector for a film company before he began giving public exhibitions of his great strength in 1920.

At the Bijou in Bangor, Gagnon startled the crowd by lifting 22 men and one woman for total live weight of 4,106 pounds with his teeth; lifting 4 men on a platform (total weight 733 pounds) with one finger; and pulling a horseshoe asunder with his bare hands.

An article announcing his appearance in the River City concluded that “Like all big men, he (Gagnon) is patient and sweet-tempered. Otherwise he would be a dangerous man to cross. An ordinary man would be as a baby in his hands.”

Following Gagnon’s stint at the Bijou, a newspaper’s account of the night read: “Gagnon’s performance fairly amazed the audience, which applauded everything in his long list, a back lift of 4,106 pounds at the climax setting the house in furor.”

But it was in Augusta, on Feb. 13, 1923, that Gagnon competed against Warren L. Travis of Brooklyn, known as “The World’s Strongest Man.” The Match was a brainchild of Gagnon’s manager, who knew that victory over Travis would establish his client in the front ranks of America’s professional strong men.

Travis, confident he could prevail over the Mainer, blithely accepted the challenge. And in fact, before the Tuesday evening match, Travis posted a $5,000 challenge “for anyone who will follow me in my stunts.”

The 40-year old strong man from Caribou accepted the challenge.

The contest took place at city hall, where townspeople and strong-men watchers from throughout the state witnessed one of Gagnon’s greatest career performances.

Among other things, Travis was reported to be “astonished” by his competitor’s physical prowess.

Gagnon opened the show by bending a sixty-penny spike double with his hands. Next he placed a 5/8-inch iron bar between his teeth and bent it in an arc. Moving along, Gagnon held two horseshoes upright in one hand, forming a W, and then asked for eight strong recruits from the audience (four on each side) to try to pull the steel shoes apart. But they could not.

Whenever Travis demonstrated a lift, Gagnon countered with a heavier one. The climax of the evening came when Gagnon lifted 23 men on a platform that empty, weighed 710 pounds. His total lift was 4,040 pounds. A stunned Travis, whose record for that kind of lift was 3,660, competed no further with the “local boy.”

Travis told reporters the following day that Gagnon’s unorthodox techniques made it difficult for him to judge the match. But obviously embarrassed by the outcome in Augusta, Travis challenged Gagnon to a return match in New York. The prize, he said, would be the diamond belt and title of “World’s Strongest Man.”

Gagnon’s manager tried several times to schedule the rematch, but the suggested dates were never agreeable to Travis.

Some 16 years later, long after he gave up weight lifting (at the urging of his wife and two daughters), Gagnon died in his sleep of coronary thrombosis. He was 56 years old.

But even now, more than 100 years after his birth and 63 winters after he defeated Travis in a show superhuman strength, the memory of John B. Gagnon lives on. And chances are that his legend will remain intact as long as there are professional strong men in the world to try and surpass his remarkable feats of power.

Whenever I tell a group of friends that I once knew a man who could break a horseshoe in two with his hands and lift an automobile of people on his back, I occasionally encounter a skeptic who challenges me with his wallet to prove my boisterous claims. Over the years, I’ve enriched myself in a modest way at the expense of these doubters, for it is a matter of record that between the years of 1908 and 1939 there lived in Augusta, Maine, an incredibly strong man who performed not only these feats of strength but many others even more astonishing.

John B. Gagnon (pronounced Gonya) was not a professional strong man although he was later, for a short time, to perform as one. He exhibited his powers mainly for self-satisfaction and the pleasure of amazing his friends. Buy professional standards, his weight-lifting techniques were often unorthodox; yet judged on the basis of sheer strength, the great strong men who preceded him-Arthur Saxon, Eugene Sandow, Louis Cyr-and even Gagnon’s contemporary, Warren Travis, must all stand in his shadow. (In more recent times [1957], only the awesome 6,207-pound back lift of Paul Anderson, of Georgia, surpasses any of Gagnon’s records.

Augusta’s unsung Hercules was born of French-Canadian parents in Caribou in 1883. Though his father was a robust man, it appears likely that John inherited much of his extraordinary physique from his maternal forebears. (His mother’s brother was the famed Louis Cyr, one-time holder of the diamond belt of weight lifting.) One of five children, John was something of a nomad as a young man. While not yet twenty, he married Elizabeth Michaud, and the couple roamed around New England, John working at jobs that suited his fancy. A jack-of-all-trades, he preferred blacksmithing and carpentry. He finally settled in Augusta in 1908 with his wife and two small daughters, and here, except for a short stay in Portland and on the Keith Circuit, he remained until his death in 1939.

Although because of his prodigious physique (five foot, ten inches; 230 pounds; seventeen-inch biceps) it is unlikely that John would have escaped casual notice in his adopted city, his remarkable strength was first brought to the general public eye on a summer afternoon in 1909. The occasion was a cornerstone laying for a public building in downtown Augusta. In order to draw a crowd for the ceremony, word had been passed earlier in the day that a newcomer named John Gagnon would open the festivities by lifting the cornerstone of the new building with his bare hands.

Expectancy cooled to skepticism as the gathering spectators watched four husky men with crowbars struggling to jockey the 1,800-pound block of granite into position.

At the appointed time, a young, blue-eyed giant with curly brown hair stepped forward with a self-conscious smile. A logging chain was passed around the stone and a steel bar attached to serve as a handle. John straddled the stone, bent down, and grasped the bar. Bracing his forearms on his knees, he gave a mighty heave. Up came the stone and John dangled it between his legs for a few seconds before dropping it to the ground.

The crowd cheered and called for an encore. Grinning broadly, John obliged. That day Augusta knew that it had gained an uncommonly strong citizen.

Although his demonstration established John as a “mighty strong feller” for miles around, he never sought the limelight. Yet he was always pleased when friends coaxed him to perform. One of his warm-up exercises was tearing a New York telephone directory in half; another was bending railroad spikes double with his hands. It was said that he could also push a large spike through a wooden plank with his hand, using only a leather pad to protect his palm.

Apart from his unusual talent, John was immensely popular because of his easygoing, friendly manner and warm heart. In spite of protests from his family, always fearful that he would injure himself, he could never resist the temptation to perform any good deed that would also satisfy his young-boy predilection to show off. If, for instance, the Gagnons came upon a hapless motorist stuck in the mud-a common occurrence on Maine country roads in the early days of the automobile-John, in obedience to family pressure, would drive by without a word of offer of help. But within minutes, saying, “I think that poor feller’s in trouble back there,” he would turn and drive back to the stranded motorist. He would then grasp on end of the mired car and lift it to drier ground and, if necessary, lift the other end as well. The astonished motorist would stammer thanks and drive away wearing the baffled look of one who has just witnessed a display of legerdemain.

Automobiles, in fact, were Gagnon’s favorite playthings in his offhand demonstrations of strength. Often he would invite five or six people to climb into a car and then, sliding underneath, he would lift the loaded vehicle on his back. His manhandling of autos was often put to good use at local garages which then had no turntables. If available when a car need turning, John would pick up one end and walk around with it.

Once while he was visiting his daughter, Edna, at her home in Belgrade Lakes, a large truck ran its rear wheels over a soft shoulder on the road and dropped into mud almost to the axle. Observing the scene, John began to cast furtive glances at his daughter.

“The answer is no!” she told him emphatically.

“But the poor feller is in real trouble,” John countered, and then within minutes made a beeline for the door and across the street. “Just get in the cab and start her up slow,” John advised the truck driver. “I’ll push you out of here.” The driver laughed but did as he was told. John put his massive shoulder against the rear end of the truck and, as the wheels clawed the mud, he eased the heavy vehicle forward and onto the road.

It was indeed fortunate that John was a sweet-natured man, for to have encountered him in an ugly mood would have been an unsettling experience. One foolhardy person found this out the hard way, and was lucky to escape with his life. Although I cannot document this story, I heard it many times as a boy growing up in the vicinity of Augusta.

On a winter night, John and a friend attended a boxing match in Augusta, during which a drunken rowdy, seated directly behind John, began hurling obscenities at the fighters and referee. When the two men turned to register their annoyance, the heckler began to focus his abuse on them. To avoid more disagreeable developments, Gagnon and his friend left the hall before the match was over. The rowdy, emboldened by this seeming retreat, followed. As they started across the bridge over the Kennebec River, the heckler made a mistake he was soon to regret. In concluding a volley of personal insults, he made some unprintable references to John’s French-Canadian ancestry. Proud of his heritage, John turned on the man, seized him by the coat collar and seat of the pants, and dangled him over the bridge rail where, some forty feet below, lay the frozen Kennebec. “One more word,” John warned, “and I’ll drop you!” The man, terrified and helpless in the young giant’s grasp, neither spoke nor struggled, nor did he moments later when John finally set his stunned tormentor down on the sidewalk.

I first saw John Gagnon in action at a carnival in Hallowell. He stood at the entrance of his tent, his great arms folded across his chest. A massive but perfectly proportioned man, he had none of the unsightly bulging so characteristic of today’s self-styled strong men. He invited passers-by inside to witness a demonstration of the harness lift. The crowd was small that night, and I watched him lift the entire audience of perhaps a dozen people as they stood on a movable platform.

A major attraction at this particular carnival was “Professor” John P. Landry, a short man weighing only 125 pounds. Billed as the “King of the Iron Jaw,” he possessed a remarkable set of molars. Standing in front of his tent prior to the main performance, he would demonstrate his method preparing kindling wood for a kitchen stove: splintering a one-inch-thick pine board, eighteen inches long, with his teeth, he reduced it to kindling faster than an expert wood chopper could have done with an ax.

That night Gagnon was in Landry’s audience and furnished the little professor with a most unusual experience. A favorite stunt of the professor’s was to lift, with his teeth, a barrel filled with 600 pounds of lead and rock. The barrel lay on its side, an iron handle protruding from its center. Landry first covered the handle with a rubber pad and, having set his teeth into this, began to hammer his under jaw with the palm of his hand. This, he explained, served to lock his jaw in place. Then with a sudden jerking movement, he raised the barrel momentarily an inch or so off the ground.

There was a standing offer of fifty dollars to anyone in the audience who could lift the barrel in any manner whatsoever. At the urging of his friends among the spectators, John accepted the challenge. Walking over to the barrel, he picked it up by the iron handle with one hand and lumbered out of the tent, swinging the weight like a big suitcase. The challenge was subsequently modified to exclude John Gagnon from participation.

Later that same evening, Landry received his second surprise during the demonstration of his famous ax-handle stunt. First stipulating that he would again pay fifty dollars to anyone who could twist it out of his mouth, Landry set his teeth into one end of a new ax handle-and again Gagnon accepted the challenge. He grasped the handle with both hands and, twisting it a half-turn, held it with one hand while he renewed his grip with the other. I fully expected to see the professor flip over like an acrobat under the terrific torque, but he withstood the strain until John had twisted the handle one complete turn. At this point, the wood began to splinter and Landry called a halt for fear of injuring himself. It was irresistible force meeting an immoveable jaw. As the two men shook hands, the crowd roared it appreciation and called for more. John obliged by twisting two more ax handles to the splintering point in the professor’s teeth.

The next day, the Kennebec Journal carried the follow statement from Landry:

“. . . I have met all the professional strong men of the United States and other countries, but never until I met Mr. Gagnon have I found a man who could twist and break an ax handle while I held it in my teeth….I consider [him], who does not claim to be a professional strong man, stronger than any professional strong man in the country or Canada-yes, as strong as any two of the together. And he is a good, clean, straight sport, too.”

John’s weight-lifting exploits in Maine brought him a contract with the Keith Circuit in late 1922. Much against the wishes of his family, he accepted it, and for the better part of a year toured the country giving exhibitions at theaters. He would begin with a warm-up demonstration outside the theater, performing a stunt considered one of the most dangerous in his repertoire. Slipping his arms through loops made at the ends of two ropes, John held them in the crook of his elbows while a pair of horses was attached to the other end of each rope. With the two teams pulling in opposite directions, John’s objective was to hold them together and not lose an arm in the process.

I once saw him perform this stunt and he successfully held the two pairs of horses together in spite of their drivers’ strongest urging. In the end, one pair succeeded in pulling the other backwards down the street, with the unyielding human link between. As a variation, automobiles were sometimes substituted for horses, and Gagnon could stall the most powerful cars of the day in this manner.

In the winter of 1923, John’s manager conceived a publicity stunt designed to establish his client in the front ranks of the country’s professional strong men. For Augusta’s annual winter carnival, an invitation was sent to Warren L. Travis, of Brooklyn, New York, to participate in a weight-lifting match with Gagnon. Travis, known as “The World’s Strongest Man,” was at that time holder of the diamond belt, and he gladly accepted the offer, confident that he could easily outshine a local boy.

The contest took place on February 13 at city hall where townspeople watched John Gagnon put on one of the greatest performances of his career, outdoing the astonished Travis at every turn. He opened the show by bending a sixty-penny spike double with his hands. He then placed a 5/8-inch iron bar between his teeth and bent it in an arc with his hands, using his lower jaw as a fulcrum. Next, he held two horseshoes upright in one hand to form a W, and asked eight strong recruits from the audience (four on each side) to try to pull them apart. They couldn’t. Whenever Travis demonstrated a lift, John countered by lifting a heavier weight. Backstage at intermission, he grinned like a pleased child. “I’m just going to keep him guessing,” he confided.

The highlight of the evening was a series of lifts involving a platform loaded with live weight. The platform itself tipped the scale at 710 pounds and was arranged so that it could be lifted by hand from above or with a back lift from below. As a starter, John lifted the empty platform with one finger; next he called for volunteers to load the platform. When the weight reached 1,080 pounds, he still lifted with one hand. Increasing the load further, he lifted it with both hands at 1,695 pounds, and with his hands and knees at 2,120 pounds. Amid the applause, John called for more volunteers. When at last twenty-three men had been packed on the platform for a total of 4,040 pounds, John lifted the entire mass on his back. The incredulous Travis, whose record for this kind of lift was 3,660 pounds, did not compete further.

On the following day, Travis told interviewers that it was difficult to judge the match because Gagnon’s lifting techniques were so unorthodox. Travis, schooling in traditional weight-lifting procedures, might have given a more “expert” performance, but in a test of raw strength, Gagnon was obviously superior.

Smarting from his defeat, Travis challenged Gagnon to a return engagement in New York, with the diamond belt and the title of “World’s Strongest Man” as the prize. Late, when John’s manager wrote Travis several times in an attempt to fix upon a mutually satisfactory date for the rematch, Travis never found the suggested times convenient. Meanwhile, John’s family undertook an intensive campaign to persuade him not to go to New York and, in fact, to give weight lifting altogether. Because plans for the New York confrontation could not be worked out, John Gagnon never had a chance to compete for the diamond belt.

Deferring at length to his family’s wishes, John gave up the stage and took a job with the Vicory and Hill Company, where his duties required the use of his powerful muscles. Here he handled large rolls of paper weighing between 500 and 600 pounds each. Normally, two men were required for the job, but John did it alone-and collected double pay.

It was during this period, in 1935, that I saw John Gagnon for the last time, paying a visit to him at his Welton Street home in Augusta. I found him soft-spoken, affable, and obviously pleased to recollect some of his feats for me. He was then fifty-two and beginning to gray slightly, but he looked as muscular and fit as ever.

A few years later I learned that while working as outside foreman for his employer, he was involved in a serious truck accident from which he never fully recovered. In 1939, four years short of sixty years of age, John Gagnon, who may possibly have been the strongest man the world has ever produced, was dead of a heart attack. One wonders if he ever regretted not being able to test his strength against Warren Travis before a New York audience. I, for one, do. I would have dearly loved to see it.

Kennebec Journal

Tuesday, February 13, 1923

WARREN LINCOLN TRAVIS-World’s Strongest Man

The exhibitions of strength tests between Warren Lincoln Travis of Brooklyn, the world’s strongest man, and John Gagnon of this city will be held this evening at City hall, and if talk is any indication, the hall will be packed, as everyone wants to see the work of these two men. But this will not be a competition in the strictest sense of the word, for the Carnival committee has been unable to work out to the satisfaction of both men a uniform series of lifts and strength tests what would determine beyond question which was the stronger man and which could be rightfully titled the world’s champion.

The Carnival committee makes this announcement in another column and offers all who feel that they would not get their money’s worth an opportunity to have their money refunded.

But the public can have an opportunity to give the decision on the relative strength of the two men, themselves, for several of their stunts will be very similar and an estimate of their strength can be obtained. Gagnon is in perfect condition to compete for the world’s crown. In a series of 10 lifts John has shifted the weight of more than 13,000 pounds, and these lifts will be repeated by the local man tonight. Travis’ 10 best lifts amounted to 12,930 pounds.

And Travis will give anyone who wants it the opportunity to lift his bar bells, or other apparatus. Travis been pleasing theatregoers for many years and his stunts still show why he has been adjudged the strongest man in the world, defeating all comers at Madison Square Garden. John’s friends are expecting to surpass the feats of the New York man and his work will be watched with interest. Music will be furnished by Douglas’ six-piece orchestra and tickets can be obtained while they last, at Fleacher’s. The seating capacity of the hall for tonight is 1500, so come early.

Shortly after noon today Travis will appear in Market Square and will hold four horses pulling in pairs. The horses will be fastened by tugs to his elbows and they will endeavor to pull his arms apart by a steady pull. The horses will be local animals and will be driven by their usual drivers. Can Travis do it? Come this noon and find out.

Daily Kennebec Journal

Wednesday, February 14, 1923

The lifting of 16,650 pounds in ten lifts by John Gagnon of the this city and the acceptance by him of an invitation from Warren Lincoln Travis of Brooklyn to meet him in competition, the contest to be staged under recognized lifting rules, were the high lights of the exhibition of the two strong men held last night at City Hall and from expressions throughout the house, the audience of nearly a thousand were more than satisfied with the performances and the majority came away with the opinion that the Augusta man was the stronger of the two. A number of women were in the audience and they appeared to enjoy the program to the utmost.

All of Mr. Gagnon’s lifts were done with live weight and as John McDonough, directing the program, called for more men and still more men, the audience applauded and applauded as they realized that they were witnessing their own townsman creep up to and then beat the best published record of Mr. Travis, who according to the record books had lifted a total of 12,930 pounds in ten lifts. And when John, after several trys, forced up the long platform, holding 23 men with total weight of 4170 pounds, they rose in their seats and cheered him heartily.

Mr. Travis was the only man who took exceptions to Mr. McDonough’s announcement that Gagnon’s total lift of 16,650 pounds was the best ever made and after claiming that he had lifted over 20,000 pounds previously and that there were six records all over that weight, announced that to settle the argument, he was willing to meet Mr. Gagnon in a competitive match under recognized rules if the people wanted to see them fight it out to a decision. The people allowed that they did and Mr. Gagnon stated the he was perfectly willing to enter the contest.

Several selections by Douglas’ orchestra opened the program and the crowds began to gather in the hall. Mr. McDonough, after announcing that it had been impossible to arrange a contest because of the dissimilarity of the lifts of the two men, introduced Mr. Travis as the strongest man in the world who in his introductory remarks declared that the reason that the number of strong men are limited is because people are not mentally interested in their physical condition and that a combination of two is necessary if everyone was to be at the highest point of efficiency for “in circulation is life, in stagnation, death.”

The strength of one finger was demonstrated in holding up a New York Telephone directory and then tearing the book in two. Taking a bar bell weighing about 250 pounds he easily swung it over his head and then lying on his back, raised it over his head and supporting two men on the bar at the same time, the total weight being about 500 pounds. A larger bar bell, weighing 360 pounds was next brought into play, the Brooklyn giant placing it on his shoulders and with two men swinging from it swung about the stage.

His feature stunt was to lift a piano, the bar bells and four men with his feet and arms while lying on his back. He seemed to have difficulty in starting the lift but finally got all four corners off the floor at the same time and he was given a rousing hand by the crowd.

Mr. Gagnon’s first lift was with one finger and it netted him 794 pounds, five men being used in the lift. Gagnon’s apparatus worked like a charm and so more men were added. With one hand he lifted 1111 pounds and with a hand and knee increased the lift to 1675 pounds. With two hands and knee lift, the platform swung free with 2195 pounds. John dropped off a few men and lifted 1317 pounds with his neck. But he piled them all on again and took on several more with his harness lift in which he used the legs alone, prying up 2689 pounds. John then tried his teeth and found them good for 627 pounds.

With his arm above his head he lifted 924 pounds and with two arms up, increased the amount to 1248.

Then came Johns great forte, his back lift and he decided to lift over two tons. He did the platform, stirring at both ends with 4170 pounds on board. It was a wonderful lift and brought the crowd to its feet with a cheer and grew in volume as Mr. McDonough announced the total weight lifted.

To show that the lifts of Mr. Gagnon were genuine, he held up the platform for three seconds in all but the back lift when the people had to take word of the judges on the stage.

After the match, Mr. Gagnon announced that he was willing to meet anyone, anywhere and at any time in a contest of strength, and lifts to be included.

At 12 o’clock yesterday Mr. Travis gave a free exhibition at Market square, forming a human link between two pairs of horses which were pulling in opposite directions. A large number were present, music being furnished with a band organ by Gladys Madore and Florence Wilson and the young ladies in their Winter Sports costumes, proved an added attraction. As a preliminary number, Mr. Travis tore up seven magazines and then with B. A. Beane and Charles H. Ware driving their two horses, tried to pull Mr. Travis’ arms apart but found that was impossible, the horses dragging first one way and then another but all the time Mr. Travis maintained his grip and held the teams together. At the close of the contest, H. W. Bailey, owner of the horses, stated at the close of the pull that the teams could pull 1500 bricks up Bridge hill on any day when the footing was decent.

Daily Kennebec Journal

Obituary

AUGUSTA-John B. Gagnon, 55, trucking foreman for the Vickery and Hill Publishing Co. who once laid claim to being the world’s strongest man, died at his home, 22 Wilson Street suddenly at 5 o’clock Thursday morning from a heart attack.

Several years ago he became known widely a strong man, and appeared at numerous exhibits in theaters and public events, as a weight lifter. On one occasion he defeated Travis, reputedly the world’s strongest man, in a strength exhibition.

He was born Oct. 5, 1883 in Caribou, son of the late Louis and Sophie Levasseur Gagnon. He had lived in Augusta for the past thirty years, and for about 15 years was trucking foreman for the publishing firm. He was for many years stage manager and carpenter at the old Augusta Opera House.

He is survived by his widow, formerly Albertine Letendre, and two daughters, Mrs. Yvonne Coughlin of Long Island, N. Y., and Mrs. Ella Clement of Belgrade Lakes.

Funeral services will be held Saturday morning at 9 o’clock in the St. Mary’s Catholic Church.

Friends may call at Plummer’s funeral parlor, 16 Pleasant Street.

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