On June 14, 2003, the people of Pikeville, Kentucky, witnessed the final chapter in one of the country’s most bitter rivalries when the two families known as the Hatfields and the McCoys signed a truce, thus proclaiming to “hereby and formally declare an official end to all hostilities, implied, inferred and real, between the families, now and forevermore.”
During the 19th century, few people hated each other more than these two clans. Why? Some say it was over a land dispute—others due to their opposing allegiances during the Civil War. Some say it was even because of a stolen pig. Whatever the reason, the Hatfields and McCoys engaged in a bloody feud that lasted for decades and left dozens of kinsmen on both sides either dead or in prison.
Meet the Families
To begin our tale, we must travel to a remote area of the Appalachian Mountains known as the Tug Valley where Kentucky and West Virginia are separated by the Tug Fork, a tributary of the Big Sandy River. Here we had two families. First, there were the McCoys of Kentucky. Originally from the Lowlands of Scotland, the clan first emigrated to Ireland at the start of the 18th century, before ultimately crossing the Atlantic Ocean and reaching America a few decades later.
At that point, John McCoy was the patriarch of the family, and he settled in Maryland where he bought hundreds of acres of land and had a bunch of kids. By the time he died, McCoy had left behind a sizable fortune, most of which went to his eldest son, Archibald, who married a woman named Elizabeth Blair and went on to have a dozen children. And, of course, most of his siblings lived long enough to have their own families so, already, America was starting to fill up with little McCoys.
It was Archibald’s oldest son, William, who served as the forefather of the McCoys we are concerned with. In 1772, he married a woman from Virginia and relocated there, where the couple had 13 kids. Then, when the Revolutionary War started, William McCoy joined the Virginia Continental Army, and his loyal service earned him a war bounty voucher good for 200 acres of land in Kentucky. It wasn’t until 1794 that William McCoy relocated there and put down his roots in Pike County. Six of his sons settled close to him, so it had become official – the McCoys were in Tug Valley. By the time our feud got started, the clan patriarch was Randolph McCoy aka “Old Ranel”, who married his cousin Sally and had 16 children together, most of whom would become involved in the feud in one way or another.
Now, let’s move on to the other side of the river and meet the Hatfields. Originally, they came from the town of Hatfield, in South Yorkshire, England. They beat the McCoys to America by over half a century, as Mattias Hatfield made it to the New World during the 1660s. Soon after his arrival, Mattias married a woman named Maria Melyn in New Haven, Connecticut, and later settled down in Elizabethtown, New Jersey, where Hatfield owned several successful tanneries. From that point on, it’s a similar tale to the McCoys – Mattias and Maria had a bunch of children who had a bunch of children who then also had a bunch of children.
It was George Hatfield, Mattias’s great-grandson, who made the move to Virginia where he established that side of the clan. But subsequent generations slowly drifted westward, so that by the time that George’s great-great-grandson Ephraim started his own family, he was living in Logan County, West Virginia. Ephraim and his wife Nancy had a formidable 18 children together, but the only one we are concerned with was William Anderson Hatfield, better known as “Devil Anse,” born on September 9, 1839, since he would serve the role of the Hatfield family patriarch during their violent struggles with the McCoys. Anse married Levisa Chafin in 1861 and the couple raised 13 children together. And now that the introductions are out of the way, let’s play the feud!
Start of the Troubles
There is no certain beginning to this famous feud, although it probably wasn’t the pig, as amusing as that might be. The source of the animosity that most historians subscribe to seems to be the Civil War. Both families were affected by the conflict and both had members who served in it. The Hatfields fought for the Confederacy, while the McCoys, um, also fought for the Confederacy. So wait? Why did they argue over it, then?
Well, there might be two reasons. First, Devil Anse Hatfield deserted the Confederate Army in February 1863 after feeling that the war was lost. He returned home and, besides taking part in some guerilla warfare, spent the rest of the war years taking care of his family. Meanwhile, Old Ranel McCoy was captured by Union forces in July 1863 and spent those same years in captivity, mainly at the Camp Douglas POW camp in Chicago. When the war was over and McCoy returned home, he found his family poor and starving, whereas the Hatfields were prosperous and well-fed, all because Anse had a two-and-a-half-year headstart on him to develop his timber business. So, yeah, you can understand why McCoy might have felt a bit cheated that his family suffered because he chose to stand and fight while Hatfield had been rewarded for his desertion.
The other possible reason for the bad blood was Asa Harmon McCoy, the brother of Old Ranel, who was the only one to fight on the side of the Union Army. This kind of “brother versus brother” scenario wasn’t that unusual during the Civil War, especially in border states such as Kentucky. However, since most of the Tug Valley was firmly on the Confederacy’s side, it didn’t make him many friends back home. In fact, he was warned not to return, but return he did and one day he was attacked by the guerilla unit that Devil Anse had been a part of. The Union soldier made a run for it and hid out in a cave for a while, but the bushwhackers tracked him down and murdered him on January 7, 1865.
Devil Anse was initially pegged as the killer of Asa McCoy, although it was later determined that he was at home when the shooting happened. Even so, some historians think that the real gunman, possibly a man named Wheeler Wilson, was an acquaintance of the Hatfields and was acting under their orders – specifically, under orders from Anse’s uncle, Jim Vance.
The other McCoys might not have been too fond of Asa at the time, but they probably didn’t want him dead. So it’s understandable that many consider this the beginning of the feud. However, going by their actions, Asa McCoy’s death did not seem to bother them that much. There was no immediate retaliation, neither legal nor extrajudicial. In fact, we don’t know of any other serious altercations between the two families for the rest of the decade. It wasn’t until 1872 that the Hatfields and McCoys found themselves on opposing sides, this time in a court case over illegal logging.
The defendant was Perry Cline, a member of the extended McCoy family, whose sister Patty also happened to be the widow of Asa McCoy. He owned land adjacent to Hatfield property and Anse had accused him of cutting down trees from his side of the woods. Why exactly he would do that remains a mystery since he owned a whopping 5,000 acres of land, but Hatfield seemed confident that he would win the suit since he borrowed a lot of money to give bond to pursue the case.
It took five years, but the case was eventually settled out of court. This means that the details on the matter are scarce, but Perry Cline was forced to hand over the deed to his entire property. Just like that, Cline’s fortune had dissipated and Devil Anse Hatfield had become one of the richest landowners in the county. Although it has never been substantiated, there have been murmurs that Hatfield and his rich backers used their influence to obtain a ruling in their favor. For the time being, a defeated Cline left Tug Valley to start a new life somewhere else, but he found a successful career as a lawyer and would get revenge on the Hatfields later.
This Little Piggy
For now, let’s get to that pig we kept hearing about. It was the fall of 1878 and Old Ranel McCoy had got it into his head that Floyd Hatfield had stolen one of his prize porkers. Farmers back then would earmark their pigs with a distinct pattern of notches and Ranel saw one of Floyd’s hogs and claimed that it had his pattern. Hatfield, of course, said this was nonsense so they took the matter to the local court.
Floyd Hatfield, as you could probably guess by the name, was related to Anse. He was a cousin, but he also happened to be related to the McCoys through marriage and he lived on the Kentucky side of the river which, for lack of a better term, could be considered McCoy territory. However, the Justice of the Peace was Reverend Anderson Hatfield aka Preacher Anse, yet another kin to Devil Anse. But it seems that their nicknames matched their personalities because the Justice of the Peace tried to make the trial as fair as possible by selecting a jury composed of six McCoys and six Hatfields.
We can infer a few things from this. For starters, Ranel McCoy didn’t hate all Hatfields, at least not yet, since he was the one who went to Preacher Anse in the first place. It was mostly Devil Anse and his brood. And secondly, since Preacher Anse took great care to ensure impartiality, then the animosity between the two families must have already been well-known in the area, even if it hadn’t turned violent yet (Asa McCoy’s death notwithstanding).
There is no written record of the trial but, in the end, the jury sided with Floyd Hatfield. Some say this was due to the testimony of Bill Staton. He, like Floyd, was related to both families and testified that the pig belonged to the Hatfields. Some say it was because of one of the jurors, Selkirk McCoy, who voted against his kin. He did this either because he was having an affair with a Hatfield woman, or because both he and his sons worked for Devil Anse’s timber business.
Either way, this had violent repercussions. Two years later, a couple of Randel’s nephews, Sam and Paris McCoy, got into an altercation with Bill Staton and shot him dead. Curiously enough, even though they were tried for murder in a court mostly controlled by the Hatfields, they both got off pleading self-defense. Local legend says that it was Devil Anse himself who wanted to see the boys go free to prevent their family feud from turning into an all-out war. Alas, his efforts were in vain because, from here on out, things were about to get a lot bloodier.
Fatal Feud
Although we’re about due for some bloodshed, the next chapter in the feud was actually a love story – a real-life Appalachian Romeo & Juliet – because, in 1880, the daughter of Old Ranel, Roseanna McCoy, fell in love with Devil Anse’s son, Johnson Hatfield, better known as Johnse. Roseanna even moved in with the Hatfields for a spell and, when she heard that her brothers had captured Johnse and intended to take him to Pikeville jail on some outstanding Kentucky warrants, she rode frantically to Devil Anse to warn him. In return, Anse gathered a posse and retrieved his son safely and without further violence.
Unfortunately for Roseanna, her devotion was not reciprocated. Even though she had become pregnant, Johnse either refused to marry her or was forbidden to by his parents and slept around with other women, ultimately marrying one of Roseanna’s cousins, Nancy McCoy, in 1881. Poor Roseanna was eventually kicked out of the Hatfield homestead and her father refused to take her back in, so she had to move in with an aunt in Stringtown, Kentucky. Her baby died in infancy and Roseanna found work as a governess for the aforementioned Perry Cline.
The true point of no return for the feud happened in August 1882. It was election day and the McCoys were still simmering over the Hatfields’ treatment of Roseanna. Her brother, Tolbert McCoy, in particular. He picked a fight with “Bad Lias” Hatfield over an unpaid debt. But “Bad Lias” was one of the Kentucky Hatfields, brother to Preacher Anse; not to be confused, of course, with “Good Lias,” who was the brother of Devil Anse. He had little to no involvement in the feud and insisted that he had paid that debt years earlier.
But one Hatfield was as good as another for Tolbert that day so he kept badgering him. Eventually, he got his wish when one of the Hatfields he actually hated, Devil Anse’s other brother, Ellison, got involved in the fight. Blinded with rage, Tolbert McCoy lunged at Ellison Hatfield with a knife and started stabbing him. But Ellison had a significant size and strength advantage and would have probably killed Tolbert were it not for his brothers, Pharmer and Bud McCoy, who jumped in to help Tolbert. Bud stabbed Ellison Hatfield a bunch of times, but it was Pharmer who ended the fight when he picked up a gun and shot him. Ellison Hatfield did not die immediately, but lingered for two more agonizing days.
Everyone understood that there would be deadly consequences when Devil Anse found out. And they were right. Preacher Anse tried to prevent further bloodshed by having the McCoy brothers arrested and sent to the relative safety of Pikeville jail, but they were intercepted by Devil Anse and a posse of his supporters. They took the brothers to the bank of the river, blindfolded them, tied them to some pawpaw bushes, and gunned them down in cold blood. According to local lore, Anse originally intended to spare Bud McCoy, since he was only 15 years old, but changed his mind at the last moment, walked up to him, and shot him in the head.
The Tide Turns
Not only did the Hatfields enact their vengeance, but they seemingly got away with it, too. Despite over 20 indictments being filed for Devil Anse and his supporters for the triple murder of the McCoy brothers, the local law made no attempts to serve the warrants or to extradite any Hatfields to Kentucky. The community, more or less, either saw the retaliation as justified or were simply afraid of the Hatfields and pleaded with Old Ranel to let the matter drop because any other course of action would only cause more trouble for everyone involved.
And, believe it or not, that’s what happened for the next few years. Although Ranel kept demanding justice, nobody local seemed willing to take up his cause. And when renewed violence erupted between the families, it was the Hatfields again shedding blood.
In 1886, Logan County special constable Cap Hatfield, Devil Anse’s son, delivered a serious beating to Mary McCoy Daniels, under the impression that she had been spying for her family. Her brother Jeff McCoy swore vengeance, but he had a warrant for murder out on him, so Cap tracked him down and killed him under the pretense that McCoy tried to escape. Whether or not this was the case, we can’t say, but it looked like the Hatfields would get away with it again. But not so fast! Because now it was finally time for Perry Cline to get his revenge!
Remember that Cline was cheated out of his land by Devil Anse (allegedly)? He also happened to be the uncle of Mary and Jeff McCoy and now was an influential attorney with powerful friends, including the new Governor of Kentucky, Simon Bolivar Buckner. So Cline requested that the indictments against Devil Anse and his brood for the murder of the McCoy brothers be revived and actually served this time.
His appeal came at an opportune time. Pike and Logan Counties were on the verge of an economic boom. They were rich in minerals and timber, the railroad was being constructed through the region and the local government intended to improve steamboat transportation on the Big Sandy River. The last thing the governor wanted was a violent hillbilly feud scaring off investors. And, of course, it helped his voter base if he was seen as the man protecting his fellow Kentuckians from those devilish West Virginians.
So Governor Buckner agreed to crack down on the Hatfields. He sent an extradition request to West Virginia, assigned a special deputy named Frank Phillips to the case, and offered rewards for the capture of Devil Anse and his associates.
For the first time, the Hatfields had their backs up against the wall. They were dealing with an unfamiliar danger bigger than anything they had encountered. Their initial reaction was to send threatening letters to Cline warning him that “if you come into this county to take or bother any of the Hatfields we will follow you to hell or take your hide, and if any of the Hatfields are killed or bothered in any way, we will charge it up to you, and your hide will pay the penalty.”
This didn’t work, of course, but it just goes to show that the Hatfields resorted to the only tactics they knew – intimidation and threat of violence. Their one saving grace was the reluctance of West Virginia Governor E. Willis Watson to approve the extradition request. Just like Buckner wanted to be seen as the protector of his electorate, Watson didn’t want to be the guy who threw his voters to the wolves in Kentucky. If the Hatfields had been patient and quiet, they might have gotten away scot-free. However, they decided to be the exact opposite and took the feud to a violent extreme that would spell their doom.
New Year’s Massacre
On January 1, 1888, a group of Hatfields and their supporters committed something that even the West Virginia newspapers decried as “the crowning piece of devilry.” In the early hours of the morning, Cap Hatfield, his uncle Jim Vance, Johnse Hatfield, and about ten others launched a full-scale attack on the home of Old Ranel and his family. Their “reasoning,” if you could call it that, was that if the McCoys weren’t alive to testify against them, the Hatfields could not be convicted for the murders of Tolbert McCoy and his two brothers.
First, they set the house ablaze, then they opened fire on whomever they saw fleeing the scene. Out of the 15 or so people inside, the Hatfields killed two of Ranel’s children: Calvin and Alifair McCoy. One of the gunmen also attacked Ranel’s wife, beating her over the head with his rifle butt until he thought she was dead. She survived, but was left debilitated and later had to be committed to a mental asylum. The other McCoys managed to escape into the woods. This heinous attack made front-page news all over the country and, for the first time, turned the Hatfield-McCoy feud into a national sensation.
This time, there was no more waiting around for extraditions. Frank Phillips rounded up a posse which included a few of the McCoy men and conducted raids into West Virginia to catch Hatfields. On the first one, they ran into Cap Hatfield and Jim Vance. While Cap made a run for it, Phillips shot Jim Vance dead. After another half-dozen raids, Phillips captured about ten members of Hatfields & Company and took them to Kentucky to stand trial for murder.
But now West Virginia was upset that Kentuckians were crossing state lines to, basically, kidnap its citizens. So a counter-posse was formed, led by Constable John Thompson, to patrol the boundary of the Tug Fork and prevent any further incursions.
On January 19, the two sides met during one of these raids on the banks of Grapevine Creek. A pitched battle ensued which ended quickly with a few injuries and one death on the Hatfield side – that of Bill Dempsey, a Logan County resident who had been deputized by Thompson.
The Battle of Grapevine Creek marked the end of the violence. From then on, the feud was carried on in the courthouse and the newspapers. But before the trials could begin, the case was taken all the way to the Supreme Court on account of the illegal extraditions carried out to capture all of the accused, thus further enhancing the notoriety of the scandal. In a 7-2 ruling, the Supreme Court sided with Kentucky.
The trials began in the summer of 1889. Nine men were tried for the murders of the McCoys – five of them were Hatfields and four were associates. They were all found guilty and sentenced to life in prison, except for Ellison Mounts, who confessed to the deed and was sentenced to death by hanging. Some see him as a scapegoat, one of the few who didn’t have the money to pay for a good lawyer. Also, as the last one to be sentenced, some regard Mounts as an example. Perry Cline was even reported to say “We have to hang someone!” and it appears that the people of Pikeville agreed. Ellison Mounts was hanged on February 18, 1890, with his last breaths crying out “The Hatfields made me do it, the Hatfields made me do it.”
But what about Old Ranel and Devil Anse, the two men at the core of the feud? Emotional and financial damages aside, they both managed to escape the conflict physically unharmed and as free men. Randolph McCoy moved to Pikeville after the New Year’s Massacre and operated a ferry across the Big Sandy River. After the initial interest in the feud died down, he lived in relative anonymity until he died in 1914.
As for Devil Anse Hatfield, heavy debts forced him to sell most of his land in the Tug Valley at a loss and move with his remaining family members somewhere more remote. His extradition was never approved, but he was still paranoid that detectives would come to arrest him and bring him to Kentucky to stand trial. In 1889, he struck a bargain to voluntarily show up in federal court on charges of selling illegal whiskey in exchange for protection from any other outstanding warrants. On that occasion, he gave a long interview with his side of the story, in which he relayed most of the facts truthfully (besides admitting his role in the murder of the three McCoy brothers, of course). It was an attempt to salvage the Hatfield name somewhat, but by that point, nobody really cared anymore, so Devil Anse was also allowed to live in quiet obscurity until he passed away in 1921.
The modern era saw occasional renewed interest in the feud, be it in books or movies or, most memorable, an episode of Family Feud where the Hatfields and the McCoys faced off one last time.
