The traditional carving of the jack-o-lantern has its roots in a very old tale about a rather unpleasant man who dared to tangle with the devil, and ended up with naught but a glowing ember and a hollowed-out rutabaga to show for his trouble.
Stingy Jack was a miserable old drunk who wandered from town to town in a rather shiftless manner, lifting what he wanted from smokehouses and gardens that happened to lie unattended on his path. His ways of providing for himself didn’t leave him very welcome in any one place for very long, and he wandered through most of the countryside drinking in the taverns along the way, and working as little as possible. When he did have a turn of good fortune, he was loath to share it with anyone.
One day, as Jack was sitting in a tavern having one-too-many draughts of potato liquor, a figure sat down beside him. “Jack,” the figure said, “it’s time to go.”
“No,” Jack replied, “I’ve only just got started here.”
“Jack, I don’t think you understand,” said the new arrival. “You’re time’s up, and it’s time to go.”
Jack realized that the Devil had come to collect his malevolent soul. Never one to let go, he made one last request: he asked that the Devil have a drink with him before they departed. The Devil could find no reason to deny the request, and he and Jack, as kindred spirits, actually had quiet a good time before the Devil said it was time to go.
“But we have to pay up before we can leave!” Jack protested.
“Come on, now, Jack, surely you have a coin to pay your way.”
Jack was determined not to go easily. “Now, look here,” he said. “Why don’t you just change into a silver coin, and I’ll pay the bartender, and while he sleeps tonight, you can turn back into yourself and we’ll have gotten the better of the man.”
“I like the way you think,” said the Devil, and promptly changed into a coin, whereupon Jack grabbed it and shoved it quickly into his pocket, where he happened to have a silver cross that he had lifted from a shop a few villages back. The Devil, bound by the cross, could not change back from the coin, and began to howl, whereupon Jack slipped out of the tavern and ran down the road.
It didn’t take Jack long to weary of the howling, and he struck a bargain with the Devil that he lay no claim to Jack’s soul, and that Jack never be taken into Hell. Freed from Jack’s pocket, the Devil departed without looking back.
Although the Devil laid no claim to Jack’s soul, his drinking and evil ways eventually took their toll, and some seven years later, Jack dropped dead in the middle of a rutabaga patch that, of course, was not his own. Still holding onto the rutabaga - only Jack was so stingy that he could onto something after his own death – Jack found himself moving as a ghost through the netherworld. As he made his way down to hell, Jack scooped the heart out of his rutabaga and ate it.
When he got to hell, nobody greeted him at the gates. Jack rattled them until the Devil came, but the Devil said, “Jack, we made a deal, and since I can’t have your soul, and since I’m not the forgiving type, I’m not about to let you in. You’ll have to try the other place.”
“The path from here to there is awfully dark,” Jack said. “Could I borrow a light?”
The Devil reached behind him and picked up a glowing coal, and tossed it to Jack. “Go ahead and keep it. You would, in any case.” Then the Devil disappeared back into the flames. Jack raked the coal into the hollowed-out rutabaga, and poked a couple of holes in it to let the light out, and walked on down the road. But when he made it to the pearly gates of Heaven, he was turned back at the entrance.
With no place available to go, Jack returned to this world, where he wandered without a body from place to place, just him and his glowing coal.
People who know about Jack carve out a rutabaga, or some other vegetable, and put a light inside to let him know that his thieving ghost isn’t welcome at that place.

