Both families were large, extensively related throughout the two counties and composing the greater portion of their population. The McCoys and Hatfields frequently intermarried and thus it happens that we find McCoys arrayed on the side of the Hatfields and Hatfields friendly to the Randall McCoy faction.
While the feud proper did not break out until 1882, it is necessary to go back further. For the enmity between the Hatfields and McCoys dates back to the Civil War, during which the former maintained an organized company of raiders, ostensibly for the purpose of protecting property against invading marauders of either army. The McCoys supported a similar force on the Kentucky side. These bands frequently encroached upon and entered each other’s territory, resulting in clashes and bad blood, though both factions adhered to the same political party. After the war the older heads tried to maintain a show of friendship in their intercourse, but the younger generations allowed their passions a free hand. Difficulties grew in frequency; still no lives were lost.
A few razor-backed, long-legged, sharp-nosed porkers are the indispensable adjunct of well-regulated mountaineer families. In those days the farmer marked his hogs and turned them loose in the woods. They soon fattened on the abundant mast and were, late in the fall, driven home to be killed. If one of those marked hogs happened to turn up in the possession of another, woe unto him. Vengeance was visited upon him swiftly, though not as severe as in the case of rustlers in the West. A circuit judge of Kentucky once remarked, very appropriately, that a hog seemed of more value in his district than a human life. There was truth in this bit of sarcasm. More men have been acquitted of murder in Kentucky than of hogstealing. It seems ridiculous that a few of the unseemly brutes should have become the innocent promoters of a feud, but it is true. Innocent or not, the facts are against them. Sometime during the seventies one Floyd Hatfield, afterwards known as “Hog” Floyd, drove a number of hogs from the forests and confined them in a pen at Stringtown. A few days later Randolph McCoy of Kentucky passed the pen in question and upon examination of the animals claimed them as his property and demanded their delivery to him, which Hog Floyd refused to do. McCoy brought an action for their recovery. The trial was held at Raccoon Hollow, a little village some miles down the valley. Deacon Hatfield, Floyd’s relative, presided. The McCoys and Hatfields attended the trial in force. Every man was armed. During the short trial many things occurred that convinced those acquainted with the characters of the men composing the factions, that bloody hostilities must result. Randolph McCoy made an impassioned speech to the jury, openly charging several Hatfield witnesses with perjury. Among those so accused was one Stayton who, incensed by the charge, attempted to strike his traducer, but was prevented by Randolph McCoy’s son. McCoy lost his case. The Hatfields exulted, jeered and sneered; the McCoys returned home grumbling and threatening.
Fists and rocks now gave place to the rifle and repeated long-range shooting matches occurred between the factions. When meeting in the forests, they treed and fought for hours with their old-fashioned muzzle-loaders and cap and ball pistols, without any appreciable result.
In 1880 occurred the first battle in which blood was drawn. It happened about a mile below the Hatfield tunnel, between Bill Stayton, Paris and Sam McCoy. They had met by accident. Stayton rightly guessed that the boys would show him no mercy after the many injuries and insults they had received at his hands. Instantly he leaped behind a bush, broke off the top of it, rested his gun in the fork of two limbs, took careful aim and fired. Paris McCoy fell heavily to the ground. Although severely wounded in the hip he managed to regain his feet and shot Stayton in the breast. The two then came together in a fierce hand to hand combat. Having thrown down their empty and useless rifles they fought with their hands and teeth, ferocious as wild animals. Paris’ cheek was frightfully bitten and lacerated. Weakened from loss of blood and suffering excruciating pain from his wounds, he was about to succumb to the superior strength of his powerful adversary, when Sam McCoy, armed with a pistol, came to his rescue. He had been afraid to fire while the men were locked in their deadly embrace. Now came the opportunity and he sent a ball crashing through the brain of Stayton, who fell back and instantly expired. The body was found some days later.
Suspicion at once pointed to the two McCoy brothers. Paris promptly surrendered himself to the authorities, and was given an examining trial before Magistrate Valentine (Val) Hatfield, who released him from custody. Sam McCoy fled to the hills, but after eluding the officers for a month or more was captured by Elias Hatfield, indicted by the grand jury of his county, tried and acquitted.
In the summer of 1882 it happened that a relative and friend of both factions ran for office in Pike County. The clans met on election day, August 7th, to work for their man.
It was the custom then, as well as now, although the law has placed serious restrictions upon the practice, to supply voters with copious quantities of whiskey. A candidate who failed to do his duty in this respect was certain to lose many votes, if not the chance of election.
On the occasion in question “moonshine” liquor was plentiful. Both the Hatfields and McCoys and their adherents imbibed freely and during the day grew boisterous and belligerent. The immediate occasion for beginning a fight was furnished when Tolbert McCoy approached Elias Hatfield, commonly known as “Bad Lias,” and demanded payment of an old debt. A quarrel ensued and the fight was on. “Bad Lias” got the worst of it.
The fight had attracted the attention of the friends and kindred of both men. Officers attempted to separate them without avail. Then “Big” Ellison Hatfield took a hand. Enraged and on fire with copious drinks of whiskey, he challenged the victorious Tolbert McCoy to fight a man of his size. Hatfield was a powerful man. Straight as an arrow, he stood six feet six in his stocking feet, and weighed considerably over two hundred pounds. The fight now went against McCoy from the start. He resorted to his knife and during the struggle stabbed Hatfield repeatedly and with frightful effect. Again and again he plunged the cold steel into the body of his adversary. Though horribly slashed and losing much blood, Hatfield yet retained strength. With a final effort he threw McCoy upon the ground, sat upon him, seized a large jagged stone, raised it on high to strike the fatal blow, when Phamer McCoy, who had been patiently waiting for the opportunity, fatally shot Hatfield with a pistol.