The Preacher’s Corner By Rev. Dr. Milton Winter Remembering one of Holly Springs’ characters Mark
Miller put it well last Thursday when he remarked that not many men get
to choose their children, but he added with some satisfaction, “Daddy
chose us.” We said good-bye to Graham Miller,
Mark’s dad, in a heartfelt gathering at our church on Sunday afternoon.
It seemed as if the whole town attended, but Graham was such a
positive, good-natured man that, of course, people would want to honor
his memory. There is a story in the Miller family
that when Graham and Sandy were married in our church, the four
children attended the ceremony. Afterward, Donnie was crying. When
asked, Donnie said through a four-year-old’s tears and gesturing to all
his siblings: “Mr. Miller only married Mama. I thought he was going to
marry all of us!” When Graham adopted Sandy’s children, four-year-old Mindy asked that her middle name be changed to Graham. We
offered our thanksgiving for the life and witness of a most remarkable
husband, father, businessman, and church leader. I have sometimes
observed that some people make it difficult for the minister to say
good things about them when they die! But
Graham Miller left behind plenty for the minister to work with. Each
person reading this, I am sure, has memories, stories you could share.
I look forward to hearing some of them. Graham
was first of all a family man. He was that in the best sense of the
word — even though a thread of — what shall we call it — financial
conservatism? — runs through many of the tales! I
am told that one of the children exclaimed on Christmas morning that
there had to be a Santa Claus because Graham Miller would not have
bought so many toys! Tom Finley told a story that
when the public school burned, all the other students rejoiced with
visions of play and time away from school, but Mr. Finley — who lived
across from the school — saw Graham Miller — then just a lad of seven —
digging through the burned remains of the school. Graham
told Mr. Finley that he was looking for his desk, hoping that maybe he
could find his pencils and pencil box, so he could still use them. Graham
did lots of things behind the scenes. Once during a period of local
tension — I do not remember what the issue was now — I saw Graham
walking with Mayor Smith on the square. They were deep in thoughtful
conversation. Graham was the kind of person who
often helped work things out, and I will miss stopping by his little
office hutch behind the sales floor to discuss the affairs of the day. Graham
was a consummate churchman. Not only was he present every Sunday that
his health permitted, he also greeted visitors and made them feel
welcome. Several persons who worship with us now are members, perhaps,
because Graham pointed them our way. There is a
generation of Holly Springs children, with surnames like Doxey, Warren,
Jones, and McIntosh, who remember Graham very fondly. One, who is grown
up and middle-aged now, remembers that Graham was superintendent of the
Presbyterian Sunday school for many a year. He
would come to each class, ringing his bell, to gather the nickels and
dimes the children had brought as their offerings, and before
departing, he would have a genial chat with each child, and make each
one feel noticed and appreciated. This meditation
would not be complete without noting that the Miller Store was the
oldest mercantile establishment on the town square and one of the
oldest in the state. It was established in 1921 by Graham’s father — one year before Graham was born. They
sold lots of things, changing the merchandise with the times, but my
favorite was that they had the first soft-serve ice-cream machine in
North Mississippi. It was a sad day for all of us
when Graham turned the key for the last time in his store at the corner
of Memphis Street and Van Dorn. There was little ceremony. It was as he
wanted it. He sold his inventory down to the last pair of shoes, and
then he retired. I felt a part of him and indeed, of Holly Springs,
died that day. Graham and James Houston, with
their father Ernest G. Miller, sold just about everything that could be
sold. They had appliances and radios — there was a car dealership out
behind the store where a parking lot remains. Graham and James Houston
divided their father’s business and Graham concentrated on the clothing
and shoe lines. Graham kept a lot of unsold
merchandise and outfits for several “good old days” parties came out of
that attic. So did most of the 1950s wardrobe for the actors and
actresses in the movie Cookie’s Fortune that was filmed here several
years ago. When the movie company insisted on
paying for these items, which they recognized as valuable, Graham
demurred, but finally agreed to accept a modest amount — he charged
what was on those old 1950s price tags. Graham was not only “Mayor of the Square,” he was a clothier to the stars! Linwood’s
at the corner of Van Dorn and Market, operated by Graham’s wife Sandy
and his son Joey, was an outgrowth of the original store. The old I. C.
Levy department store was in the same building, so Linwood’s carried on
an old tradition of fine clothing at that location. Of
course Graham’s proximity to the barber shop was a great boon to his
business. The barber shop had the drink box, Graham had the phone, and
Dr. Hale’s dental office maintained the coffee pot. Harmon
Walker, Bennie Howell, Dr. Hale and his staff, and Graham, all looked
out for one another. It was not uncommon to make stops at all three
locations in the course of a day. I have been
grateful for Graham Miller since the first day I met him. He was one of
the kindest, most considerate men I have ever known; a true Southern
gentleman. I think I speak for his family; I know I speak for our
community, that his passing leaves a terrible void, and we are sad to
think about it. But he ran an iconic business,
honestly and well, served his church devotedly, lived to see his six
grandchildren grow up, and achieved a good, old age. So
we are sustained by the lessons of faith and faithfulness he lived out
among us, and if it were said of us someday, that we were like Graham
Miller, then we would known we had been paid a compliment, and that our
lives, too, had been well-lived. |