WADE IN THE WATER
Steven Rice

William Anderson Hatfield was called Devil Anse by those who knew him.

Someone described him as "6 foot of devil and 180 pounds of hell." I think you get the picture.

His family lived on the West Virginia side of the Tug River. Across the river in Kentucky was "Ole Randall" McCoy. These two patriarchs and their families shared a river, were friends, and even married each other (their families married, not Devil Anse and Randall). That is, until Harmon McCoy, "Ole Randall's" younger brother, joined the Union Army.

Both families were generally Confederate sympathizers, except for Harmon. His service in the Army didn't last long and he was discharged on Christmas Eve, 1864 with a broken leg.

As soon as he returned home, word came from across the river that Devil Anse's uncle and a group of raiders would pay him a visit. They did.

Harmon was found dead in a nearby cave. Strangely enough, that was not nearly as traumatic for the McCoy family as a stolen pig.

In the fall of 1878, Ole Randall thought he saw Floyd Hatfield (one of his wife's kin) with one of his pigs. Understandably outraged, he demanded a trial. Imagine this: the jury of Floyd's peers consisted of six Hatfields and six McCoys. It all came down to the testimony of Bill Stanton, believe it or not, a relative of both clans.

Bill swore that pig belonged to Floyd. Bad move for Bill. Within months Bill was shot by two McCoys. As Charlotte would write in her web, that was "some pig!"

The story gets better, or rather, it gets worse. Ole Randall had a daughter, Rosanna, and Devil Anse had a son, Johnse. You guessed it; they fell in love and Rosanna swam the river and lived with Johnse in the home of Devil Anse. She couldn't stand living with the Hatfields so Rosanna came back home to mama. Rosanna and Johnse rekindled their fling and Rosanna found herself, as we say in the church, great with child.

The McCoys wouldn't have this and kidnapped Johnse, who later decided he didn't want to marry into that family. He married his cousin instead (she was a McCoy, too). Two years later, three of Rosanna's brothers murdered Devil Anse's younger brother. They shot him in the back and stabbed him 26 times. Shockingly, he lived 3 days after the attack. Hours after his death, the three brothers joined the deceased Hatfield somewhere in eter- nity. Before it was all said and done, 13 people lost their lives in the feud - a feud fueled by fear, power, and ignorance.

On June 14, 2003, over a hundred years later, the Hatfields and McCoys signed a truce. I can't imagine they were still upset over a pig or over the Appalachian Romeo and Juliet or even over a war. Hopefully they grew up. Hopefully they stopped fighting their greatgreat grandparents' battles. Hopefully they read the above history and realized how silly it all sounds. Hopefully we, too, will one day grow up.

After watching the news and reading the paper, one can't help but wonder how long we will feud with each other, how long we will fight and kill over pigs, wars and romances. One can't help but wonder how long we will continue to mistrust each other and fight our great-great grandparents' battles.

The Hatfields and McCoys have become for many a punch line or a caricature of the Appalachian South, which is probably not fair to the families or the South. I hope this generation does not suffer the same fate.

I hope we will be able to wade in the water, cross the river and move on.

You can reach, the Rev. Steve Rice at www.episcopalians.info.