Fort Mill teacher, Hall of Famer, remembered for encouragement and red noses
There was standing room only — and barely that — at Fort Mill’s Unity Presbyterian Church last week.
Some 900 people filled two sanctuaries to say goodbye to Manly Storme Young III, known to most around town simply as Stormy.
Young, a lifelong Fort Mill resident, died Feb. 10. He was 77.
Some in the church were family members or friends. Others were old colleagues, even people Young once hired. Still more were former students. There were more than 100 of them, family members said.
For 36 years, Young worked for the Fort Mill School District, the same school system that he graduated from.
At different times during his career, he was a middle school history, government and economics teacher. He left the classroom for a few years to serve as assistant principal and principal of Fort Mill Middle School before returning to teach high school psychology and coach girls’ volleyball.
In all, Young taught about 4,500 students, his family said.
Judging on the turnout last week, and the online comments and stories that have surfaced since his passing, “taught” might be too light of a word. “Cared for” might be a more accurate phrase.
One online poster, a former student from Georgia — the country — said Young always made sure that she was doing OK and she appreciated that.
“I always remember him and how kind and supportive he was to me,” she wrote.
Then there was the former student who approached Young and his son Grey in a parking lot one night many years ago. He tried to hand Young money, Grey said. His dad refused.
Then the man told Grey, “When I was in middle school your dad took me to the dentist and paid for me to get my tooth pulled because I was in so much pain,” Grey told those gathered last week. “My family was poor, had no money or no insurance. But your dad did this for me and I’m sure he did this for many others.”
Grey said his father had a way with students who struggled.
“He believed in every student that walked through his school or classroom door,” he said. “He gave second chances. He gave third chances because he knew each person he encountered had something to give to this world.”
A hall of fame career
But teaching was a career Young “fell into,” said Will Young, Young’s youngest son.
Young graduated with a parks, recreation and tourism degree from Clemson University in 1969, but took a job with the school district when his hometown needed teachers, Will said.
It worked. He won an outstanding young educator award and, in 2017, was inducted into the Fort Mill School District Hall of Fame.
“He obviously found a niche that he was very good at,” Will said.
In an interview at the hall of fame ceremony, Young was asked what he liked most about being a teacher.
“Seeing the kids succeed,” Young replied.
That answer is no surprise to those who knew Young. The former teacher lived to serve others, friends said.
Some 35 years ago, Young – an assistant principal at the time – hired and befriended Treva Thomas Hammond, a green, 24-year-old middle school language arts teacher.
He’d later become Hammond’s mentor, friend and a role model for her three boys. He took them to Charlotte Hornets games, the circus, musicals and the like.
He even called Hammond “daughter,” after she gushed to Young’s wife, Chari, that he reminded her of her father.
“He was happiest when he was able to help someone or connect with someone,” Hammond told those attending last week’s service.
Connecting with people is what got him in trouble with Facebook several years back. Young had thousands of friends, raising the company’s eyebrows. Facebook officials restricted his account, allowing Young to add friends only if others dropped off. It was a waiting list, of sorts.
“He had 5,000 friends,” Hammond said. “Who has 5,000 friends on Facebook? Stormy.”
Many of those friends wore big red noses at Young’s service last week. Young had a habit of passing them out to kids at school, a reference to one of his favorite movies, “Patch Adams.” In the movie, Robin Williams plays a doctor who wears a red clown nose to brighten patients’ days.
They brought nearly 500 red noses and ran out, Hammond said.
“In the movie, Patch Adams discusses how we should see what no one else sees, see what everyone chooses not to see,” Grey said. “Our dad saw the best in everyone. He saw in many people what others couldn’t.”
