Edward Barber and The Mad Stone

   ©  Kathy Duncan, 2021

The greatest benefit of researching with newspapers is that they can provide breakthrough information when other sources are lacking because of burned courthouses and because of the great twenty-year gap caused by the loss of the 1890 census. That twenty-year gap has resulted in a black hole into which ancestors fall and can be very difficult to track. 

The other benefit of researching with newspapers is that they "put flesh on bones." They provide interesting and amusing insights into our ancestors' lives. Sometimes whole personalities are revealed.

By the early 1880s, mad stones were all the rage for treating rabies and bites from snakes and spiders. In late 1883, Edward Barber of Jonesboro revealed that he owned a mad stone that he had gotten from the paunch of a deer in about 1853. Ideally, a mad stone had to come from a white deer. Edward did not reveal if the deer he killed met that specification. Although he had never had a reason to use his mad stone, Edward expressed his skepticism toward a mad stone's ability to cure. 

A year later, Edward Barber had the opportunity to put his mad stone to the test when the son of Mr. Phillips of Monroe, Georgia was bitten on the cheek by a mad dog. Since Edward's mad stone had been publicized the year before, it seems reasonable that Phillips had taken his son to Jonesboro in search of Edward Barber's mad stone. 

Additional details about the dog attack appeared in The True Citizen of Waynesboro, Georgia on 6 June 1884.

Other newspaper articles related this mad dog rampaging through the schoolyard and biting young Phillips. The local men grabbed their guns to shoot the dog. One man mounted his horse and gave chase, hunting the animal down and shooting it. This newspaper writer turned the problem into a political issue with racial overtones. 

Over a decade later when C.C. Culpepper's dog went mad and bit Culpepper's son, he took the boy to Jonesboro so that Edward Barber's mad stone could be applied to it. 

At this point, it is impossible to know how many people sought out Edward Barber's mad stone in hopes that it could save the lives of loved ones. It is also impossible to figure out if it worked. The newspapers don't seem to have done follow-up articles that would reveal if the stones worked their magic or not. 

Before his death, Edward Barber gave the mad stone to his daughter Emma (Barber) Walker and her husband. They continued to apply it to the wounds of any one who sought out its curative powers as related in The Atlanta Constitution of Atlanta, Georgia on 16 August 1931: 

Georgian Tells How 4 Mad Stone9 Cured Rabies Forty Years Ago

 McDonough, Ga Aug 15. A mad stone, commonly supposed to have been effective in the treatment of victims of mad dog bites about 40 years ago, was once in the possession of Mrs. Emma B. Walker,, of McDonough. The recurrence of dog days recalls the popular superstition that prevailed a half century ago. Sirius, the dog star, was supposed to bring excessive heat and attendant evils that caused the fevers suffered by men and dogs. Old residents bring to mind some of the cures accomplished by this mysterious "stone" at this, as well as other seasons of the year. People from all sections of Georgia who had heard of its healing powers came to Mrs. Walker's home for treatment, stayed a while, and returned, cured. Mrs.-Walker, in speaking of her experiences with the mad stone, says, "It belonged to my father, the late Judge Edward Barber, of Jonesboro. He killed the deer that contained it on a hunting trip on the line between Georgia and Florida nearly a hundred years ago. In those days, it was the custom for parties to go there once or twice a year, in wagons, for a hunt. My father, when a member of one [killed] a buck. As this animal was dressed. one of the others, an older man, called attention to the peculiar growth attached to the deer's stomach. It was about the size of a bean, poms in appearance, rough in texture, and of an ashy-brown color. He advised my father to keep it, telling him it was of great value in extracting poisons from the bites of insects. "My father brought it home, along with the venison, the antlers and hide, as a relic, and for years kept it in a chamois bag. Sometime during the '80s be saw, in some journal, an advertisement proclaiming the virtues of this kind of stone in curing rabies. People, who knew of his having such a stone, began to worry him by requests to use it, so he turned it over to us. My husband let it be known that we had it and dozens and dozens of people, children and grown-ups came here to use it. One doctor offered us a thousand dollars for it." In describing its use, Mrs. Walker continued, "The injured person would apply the stone to the open wound and it would stick, somewhat like a needle to a magnet. Sometimes it would stay on the place from early morning until a late bedtime before falling off. As soon as it seemed to absorb the poison it would slip off, but as long as it drew the venom it appeared glued to the spot. When it came off, it was immediately put into fresh whole milk. After a few minutes a yellowish-green scum would cover the surface of the milk and the stone would be clean. It was then ready to be applied to another patient. An unusual feature of the treatment was the fact that its effectiveness depended upon the application to an open wound, so every scab had to be removed." The chief of police of McDonough, Charles J. Dickson, is one of the ex-patients. Mr. Dickson describes his experience, "I was about 12 or 14 when a dog, a black feist, bit my hand. I went at once to Mrs. Walker's and she applied the stone. It was yellowish and about the size of the end of my little finger. It turned darker as it absorbed the poison, and when it was full, fell off. Sometimes I kept it on all day and all night and again, only a few hours. I was there at her home about three weeks, but it cured me."