Dub Massey, one of the last two survivors of Rock Hill’s Friendship Nine, died Tuesday at the age of 84.
Massey, whose first name was Willie, lived his life in and close to Rock Hill. For decades, he was a teacher and counselor in York County schools; he was also a preacher and served as a local magistrate judge.
He is survived by his cousin, David Williamson, also of Rock Hill, who says, “He was the hero, not me.”
Williamson and Massey, along with seven others, were jailed from Jan. 31 until March 2, 1961, after sitting at what was at the time a White-only lunch counter at McCrory’s Five & Dime. The location of McCrory’s is now home to Kounter, a restaurant that features the very seats the Friendship Nine occupied (with their names emblazoned on the backs of the stools) and a museum displaying the story of the Friendship Nine.
Part of Massey's legend was being asked what he was doing at McCrory's. His answer, quoted whenever his name is evoked, was "Man, I'm going to jail."
Williamson recalls his time in jail with Massey, the day after they were booked.
“Right after lunch we went out to the chain gang,” he says. “Once we turned our clothes in and put on the clothes that they had, we went out to cut grass, with Dub and Willie McLeod. They gave us a blade to cut grass with it, and Willie and Dub didn't know how to use it. It was called a sling blade, so I had to show them. I said, ‘You guys had never did any work.’ So we laughed about the thing.”
In the years since 1961, Massey became a prolific teller of the Friendship Nine’s story.
“ Everybody in this area knew Dub because he worked in the area, and he kept the story alive,” Williamson says. “He made sure that we remember the story and didn't forget it, because we know if you forget the story, history will repeat itself.”
He says there aren’t “too many people left that want to go through the struggle we went through or even spend time in prison. So that's why he was so adamant about keeping the story alive so the people would know the history.”
And, Williamson says, Massey was not one to wait for Black History Month to tell the story.
“Most of the time people want you to tell [the Friendship Nine story] during Black History Month, but he would tell the story any time he got the opportunity,” Williamson says. “He didn't wait till the February.”
Williamson, admittedly, is not the natural storyteller his cousin was. But he says he will pass the story along through his family and friends when he can because he feels compelled to carry on what Massey has left in his hands.
But he also says that Massey’s legacy is alive through leaps in civil rights that happened because people like Dub stood up -- or, rather, sat down -- for dignity and equality.
'If you forget the story, history will repeat itself.'
“There's a lot more people bold enough -- just say this past cycle that all the people, different people --that ran for elected office,” he says. “Back then [in 1961] there wasn't Blacks … that ran for office or anything like that.”
Williamson says he especially thinks Massey’s effect, 65 years later, on the gubernatorial candidacy of Jermaine Johnson, a Black Democrat who narrowly lost his bid to Republican Alan Wilson last week.
“ He was in town. I got a chance to speak to him,” he says of Johnson. “And he was thanking me for what we did. I said, ‘Well, you are my thanks, because now you’re bold enough and brave enough to run for governor. So you’re taking the torch and you going forward with it.’ This is part of the story, you know? Everything that the people doing to make things better.”
