There are no statues to him and apparently nothing named after him.
Even in the histories of his era, Philip McKinney doesn’t rate many mentions. By contrast, his defeated political opponent earns whole chapters. And yet more than a century (and a few decades) later, the forgettable Philip McKinney now looms large over Virginia — although, admittedly, not as large as the 12-ton statue of Robert E. Lee that he had a hand in raising on Richmond’s Monument Avenue. That hand in question was the hand that McKinney — the 41st governor of Virginia — used to sign the paperwork that accepted the statue as property of the state.
McKinney was born in Buckingham County, studied law at what was then simply Washington College (today Washington & Lee University), served as a Confederate cavalry officer, took a bullet at Brandy Station, and then spent about 20 years as Commonwealth’s Attorney in Prince Edward County. McKinney wanted more, though — repeatedly running for Congress, attorney general and governor and losing every time. In 1889, he finally got lucky — Democrats needed a candidate for governor and it was apparently McKinney’s “turn.”
One of the conditions that Congress placed on the readmission of Virginia and other Southern states after the Civil War was that they create a public school system.
Northern politicians felt that the ignorance of Southern voters had allowed them to be too easily swayed by the slave-owning plantation class. Schools cost money, though. Where was Virginia going to find the money to run them — and still pay the huge debts that it had run up during the war? The “readjusters” wanted to “readjust” the state’s debt — and only pay part of it. Those who insisted on fully paying it were called the “funders.” There was a class divide at work — the state’s political establishment, to whom much of that debt was owned, was very much on the side of the funders. In time, those Readjusters morphed into the local version of the Republican Party, which was the more moderate party of the time; the funders were Democrats, the conservatives of that era, at least in the South. For a time, the Readjusters prevailed.
The best-known Readjuster/Republican was William Mahone, a former Confederate general turned railroad tycoon. He was also considered highly dictatorial — and massively corrupt. .
Democrats put up the bland but persistent McKinney; Republicans nominated the polarizing Mahone. Historian Allen Moger called that campaign “the most bitter in the history of Virginia.” He writes that “the traditional ruling classes” considered the Readjuster/Republicans “a blot on the state’s record” — and that Mahone personified everything they despised about the post-war social order. McKinney was the candidate of those “traditional ruling classes.” Mahone was not particularly “woke” to racial uses — he simply saw Black voters as useful for his party and repaid them with minor offices. McKinney, though, ran on a platform of unabashed white supremacy. The Danville Times called the election of 1889 “a great battle for the supremacy of the white race.” McKinney won — in a landslide.
As governor, McKinney satisfied the state’s ruling classes by paying off the state’s debt. McKinney also looked the other way while lynching was on the rise. Not until there was a riot in Roanoke — in which the militia took the unusual act of firing on a white mob to protect a Black prisoner (unsuccessfully) — did McKinney speak out. In an address to the General Assembly, he excused lynchings of the past as unavoidable. He said that Blacks were “uncultivated in their morals” and that in the aftermath of emancipation the occasional lynching was “necessary” and “the only safe protection for society.” Now “the crisis is over,” he said, and lynchings should be avoided because they usually happened so quickly they didn’t do enough to truly intimidate the Black population.