Trails of Our Past

The McKinney Mad Stone
By; Dusty Williams

With medical advances not near what they are today, early settlers and pioneers sought out whatever treatment they could. One of the most worrisome conditions that existed on the frontier and in all of early America was the fear of hydrophobia. One treatment believed to cure individuals of hydrophobia was to use what was called a “mad stone.” These stones were often boiled in warm milk and applies to the bite wound on an individual. If the patient did in fact have poison in their system, the stone would adhere to their wound, sometimes for days at a time, and draw out the poison. If there was no poison in their system, the stone would not adhere and that individual could consider themselves out of danger. These stones were not only used for hydrophobia, but were also used for snake, insect and other poisonous bites.

It is said that the stones come from the stomach or intestines of cud chewing animals, specifically from deer. The more sought after stones come from a white or spotted deer. There are many superstitions surrounding these stones, such as that they should never be stolen and some sources even state that they should be given as gifts and never bought with the use of money. Interestingly, a popular mad stone was in existence in the Van Alstyne area in the 19^th century, the McKinney family mad stone. Originally bought by Ben Milam, of Texas fame, he gave a portion of it to his friend, Collin McKinney. Some reports state that the original stone was the size of a goose egg. Eventually, Collin McKinney broke apart his stone and gifted it to some of his children.

There are reports of people traveling for miles to use the McKinney mad stone. Ironically, according to many reports, the stone usually proved to be successful. Of the countless reports of citizens traveling to the McKinney farm for the curative powers of this stone, the following are a few that are worth reading.

The McKinney Gazette September 23, 1886: “Dallas, Sept. 18-On being professionally at Anna, Texas, I had occasion, through curiosity to visit the “Uncle Billy McKinney” (William C. McKinney) farm, two miles north of Anna. A station in Collin county, on the Houston and Texas Central Railroad, between Melissa and Van Alstyne. The McKinney boys live on the old homestead of their father, where they have become fixtures. The town of McKinney was named after them, and Collin county was named after Mr. Collin, the near relative of these McKinney boys, hence this family is known all over Texas as “old settlers,” and very favorably known, too; and from the fact of their owning one of the most noted mad stones in Texas almost everybody who has been bitten by a canine or feline species, supposed to be, or defacto, have resorted to the good old Uncle Billy McKinney farm house to test the virtues and enjoy the efficacy of his celebrated mad stone, and many have been the rejoicing at being relieved from the horrible death of hydrophobia. Indeed they have wrought wonders, for in many instances where convulsions had really occurred and the victim was pronounced beyond all hope by eminent physicians, application of the mad-stone resorted them to health and friends. The original stone was quite large and purchased from a boy for ten cents in Virginia sixty years ago, and has been in the McKinney family ever since, but has been divided into sixty-five pieces. All but one piece remains in the family and in the County of Collin. One piece is in the vicinity of Bonham. The one (piece) I examined is about half an inch square (square every way-a cube) and porous, resembling coral, white and as hard as flint. This stone was picked up in the mountains of Virginia, and was originally knotty-looking, and when purchased first from the boy who found it was laid up on the mantle of Mr. Milam, the purchaser, as a curiosity specimen of rock. When one day one of the children was snake bitten Mr. Milam broke off one of the “knots” and applied it to the bite, and the boy was cured; then it was tried for rabid animal bites, and became noted for all kinds of bites of poison insects and animals. And now the “McKinney mad-stones” are sought for by the unfortunates who have been bitten by rabid dogs, cats, skunks, etc. But the most peculiar part of my narrative is yet to come. During the lifetime of old “Uncle Billy,” which terminated about one year ago, he had purchased two fine shepherd dogs and trained them to drive the cows home nights to be milked, and the old man was much attached to them, and, per consequence, when he died the family were the more attached to them for their father’s sake, and kept them for the purpose of penning the cows to be milked, which the dogs always attended to without fail. Sometime in the latter part of June they seemed to become rather in a hurry to urge the cows to the pen, and would bite them to hurry them along, and when they would get them penned were seen to snap at the chickens in and about the door yard. This was noticed for a few days, when lo, all on a sudden, one night the two fine shepherds disappeared, and have not been seen or heard from, and three or four weeks have elapsed since, and behold, Mr. J. W. McKinney’s cows began to act strange. One would appear sick-eyes turn green and glassy, and would slobber excessively, and be cross, vicious, take spasms and die. Finally another, until in all, sixteen have succumbed the same way, some being so crazy as to necessitate killing. Two were so vicious-that they hooked everything they came to; would run for all moving things in sight of them. They disemboweled two horses and when they were hunted in the woods to be killed, they ran the huntsmen up the nearest tree, and one of the men dropped his hat. The mad beast bored it ferociously into the ground, but it was finally killed. I saw one, the last and only milk cow the family has today. Its eyes were much swollen staring, watery and green; and slobbering very profusely at the mouth and having spasms. The poor beast would lie down, stretch itself out, limbs extended, head drawn back and its bowels would roll up in knots and it would strain with all its power, seeming to suffer excruciating pains, which, Mr. McKinney said, was the case with all the rest. I heard of two others in the neighborhood similarly affected and supposed to have been bitten. There are many other cattle on the premises, but none but those corralled by the said dogs have been affected with “hydrophobia,” but it is a matter of much interest and concern among the people in that neighborhood what the result will be, as the dogs may have bitten many other animals in their escape from the premises where they were raised. As a consequence of this strange circumstance the McKinney family have no milk to use and are afraid to use it if they had it until all signs of hydrophobia have ceased among them. There are about forty other dogs on this McKinney farm among the tenants, none of which showed any signs of hydrophobia, but most of them have been killed for fear of probably consequence. These $800 worth of cows dying from bites of two dogs is enough to forever put the question of profits in dogs at rest. A. P. Davis, M. D.”

Denison Daily Cresset April 20, 1875: “The boy recently bitten by a mad dog has returned from McKinney, where he was taken by his father to test the virtue of the “mad stone.” It adhered to the wound for twenty-two hours, and then dropped off. A remarkable thing connected with this wonderful stone is, that it will not stay on when applied to a person bitten by a non-rabid dog. This is considered a sure evidence of the absence of all poison in the system.”

Denison Daily News August 7, 1880: “Mrs. Chas. Wells, on Iron Ore, was bitten Sunday last by what was believed to be a rabid dog. Her husband took her to Mr. McKinney’s mad stone, below Van Alstyne, and he informs our reporter the stone adhered to the wound, off and on, for nearly twenty-four hours. The poison is now believed to be entirely eradicated, and Mrs. Wells is out of danger of that dreadful malady, hydrophobia.”