"Retailing family racked up 167 wins totalling $1.2 million
By JOE WARMINGTON
Jellicoe, Ont., population 53, is home to the Jacksons, a general store-owning family that has won more than $1 million in the provincial lotteries. Townsfolk say the Jacksons are just plain lucky.
"I'll just have to come back to the village and make some enquiries to make sure that you are Ned Devine"
-- actor Brendan F. Dempsey as Irish Lotto investigator Jim Kelly in the 1998 film Waking Ned Devine.
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Like the fictitious Irish outpost of Tullymore in the movie Waking Ned Devine, the equally tiny Northern Ontario town of Jellicoe has also seen an investigator skulking around about a lotto win, too.
And like in the movie, the wonderfully kind residents also sent him away without any reason to doubt the lottery winning story.
But unlike in that script where the whole town split the jackpot of a resident who died with the winning ticket in his hand and replaced him with his friend, this town had one family win more than twice as many lottery jackpots as the town has people.
Tullymore had Ned Devine as one of its 53 residents.
Jellicoe had the Jacksons as part of its 80.
More specifically Jellicoe had its own Lady Luck in Corrie Jackson who, the CBC reports, "often won multiple times in the same draw, took the most prizes" including "eight wins in a single Pick Three draw and then seven prizes in the draw a week later."
Thanks to this story, Jellicoe now has the new nickname of being the Luckiest Town in Canada -- that not only has a multiple winner but also has an $800,000 prize that went unclaimed.
And no OPP investigation or nosy big city reporters are going to change that.
In fact, it seems friendly residents in this rugged and picturesque village known for good moose hunting on Hwy. 11, two hours northeast of Thunder Bay, are satisfied that nothing suspicious was going on with the constant winning of the Jacksons of Jellicoe.
"I don't think you will get anyone in Jellicoe to say a bad word about the Jacksons," said resident Fran McCullagh.
And I didn't. Everybody I spoke with echoed this sentiment. They not only back the Jacksons, they seem to love them...."
Read the rest of this story at the Toronto Sun Website.
Haha... ok. This is my hometown, and my family. I'm completely biased on the subject, because as I was growing up, the Jackson family was my family.
My mother worked a lot and most days I would end up at the Jacksons store, eating chips or microwave burgers that Barry would slip me, reading their comic books, playing their Sega games, or running around the aisles snapping rubber bands at Trevor and Robbie. Corrie called me their surrogate daughter, and the boys (Trevor, Robbie, Leon, and Barry Jr.) would introduce me as their little sister to their friends. I probably spent more time at the store than I did in my own cabin in the woods, so I can tell you, honestly, what Barry was like.
Barry was a joker; he was constantly teasing or joking around with his customers. He was friendly and open about everything. He was someone you could spend hours talking to about next to nothing at all. He was a good father that tried to give his kids everything they needed, and he taught them how to take care of themselves. For example, every week we would go to Geraldton where they would spend the night playing basketball together.
Apparently he was also a bit of a pool shark; when on a trip with him in Geraldton once, we stopped at the pool hall briefly and the man behind the counter called him "Barracuda." When I asked what it meant, the guy behind the counter replied that Barry was a pool shark, so they had to give him a fishy nickname. A customer overheard this and immediately challenged Barry to a duel. Barry asked me if I would be alright for a couple minutes (kids weren't allowed in the pool hall section of the building, so I would have to wait amongst the work clothing and such), and I said I'd be fine. I wandered the store for about 7 minutes, and then Barry came out of the pool hall. "Did you win?" I excitedly asked. He and the guy behind the counter met eyes and they started laughing. He turned to me, nodded, and casually said, "Ok, time to go."
Pool shark he may have been, but he was no thief. That wasn't his style. He didn't take too kindly to thieving.
There was another day, when I was very young, but had already gotten used to Barry slipping me food. Wandering through the store one day with my mother, I found myself a bag of marshmallows (YUM!). I tried to get my mother's attention to ask if I could have them, but she was too busy talking to Barry. Neither was paying attention, so, being spoiled by Barry to this point, I thought it would be no big deal to just rip the bag open and start eating them. Afterall, Barry would probably just give them to me anyway. Mom finished up and we walked out of the store, not noticing my quietness was due to a mouthful of squishy white goodness. Just as we were about to drive away Barry came out, after having watched me devouring the unpaid-for marshmallows. He proceeded to give me one hell of a talking-to about ALWAYS being sure I had permission first. As the tears built up in my eyes, he gently took the bag away. I may have been his surrogate daughter, but that didn't mean I could take things from them without permission. He wouldn't be having any thieves in his house. Man, did I ever cry when I got that look of disappointment.
Barry would never jack a jackpot, even if he did know how. Like I said; it wasn't his style. He played a lot though. He was constantly buying tickets for himself and that's all there is to it. They say you have to play to win, and damned if he didn't play all the time, but he played the odds, not the system.
Oh, plus he had a whole herds worth of horseshoes rammed up his arse. Lucky son-of-a...
Lise Koning
