Brother, kneeling at front right, with his church Boy Scout troop.
Here's an essay Brother (shown above in his grocery store in 1948) wrote in 1942, the year he graduated from John W. Hanes High School in Winston-Salem, N.C.:
About three months ago we were informed by Miss Dungan, our English teacher, that in order to pass the course, we must turn in, on May 15, 1942, a "term paper." She gave us various subjects on which to write, but I didn't like any of them, and an autobiography never even entered my mind, for I have led a normal life just like everyone else. I loafed around until the last moment , and after writing eight pages of what I called "poetry," I was told that we could not turn in poetry. After killing time in study hall for about eight days, I finally woke up to the fact that I had to do something, and quickly, too, for it was then May 1, and I hadn't even chosen a subject.
Well, I finally decided that I would have to choose my life as a subject (what a subject!) to have enough material to write the necessary five or 10 pages that were required, so here it is.
April 13, 1925, was a quiet afternoon, save for the noise made by a few birds and bees who had come to Winston-Salem, N.C., early for their summer visit. All at once the stillness was shattered by the wail of two tiny newborn babies, and that was where I came in, for I happened to be the gentleman of the pair. Cissie was born at 2 p.m., and I was born at 2:15 p.m. on the kitchen table, which is where the birthing process took place. It was Easter Monday.
After the first excitement, everything went along very smoothly, with nothing to break the monotony of the average childhood. Mother was very strict about keeping us close at home, and even now she does not let us "run wild," as she expresses it, so we were timid around strangers and didn't have much to say when there were any around. (Imagine me not having anything to say!) During the first six years of my life, I don't believe I was ever away from home for more than an hour unless one of my parents was along.
On Sept. 7, 1931, Cissie and I got up earlier than usual, and Dad took us to Ardmore School. There we met a friendly lady, Miss Glenn Ward, who said she was our teacher. I didn't know what a teacher was, but I thought I could learn later, so I didn't say anything. I followed her to our classroom. At first I was scared stiff, but I soon got used to it, and before long I even began to like school. Miss Ward asked us if we could spell our names and we told her yes, for Mother had taught us how to spell and write when we were 4.
Not long after that we moved to Patterson Avenue and started to North Elementary School. It was there I met a teacher I have always remembered, Miss Annie Maude Pollard. She had the patience of a cat stalking a mouse, and she never seemed to get worried or discouraged, no matter how much trouble she had with her first-grade class. In all my school life, I don't believe I have ever had a better teacher.
It was at North Elementary where I developed my love for reading. I prize books more than anything I own, for in books there is education, adventure, and most of all, you meet so many different characters. I like to study people and their ways, for there there are millions of people in the world, there are no two alike, and a good place to find out about different types is in a book.
In 1937, I joined Lee Memorial Presbyterian Church, and I have been an active member ever since. Our pastor was Rev. Charles E. Clark, who is dead now, and he was a great help to me spiritually.
When I was in the third grade, I got the first and last whipping I have ever had in school. I was in Miss Shore's music class and the sun must have been shining in my face, for I was squinting pretty badly. Because a boy didn't like me, he raised his hand and told the teacher that I was making faces at her. She took one look and came back there and jerked me clear out of my seat and gave me a shaking like I had never had before. [Cissie, who was in the same room, verified this story.] It is amusing to me now, but it was far from funny then, and I had a fear of teachers for years after that.
When I was born, I had a rather long head, and I still have, for that matter, and the boys at school teased me about it and started calling me "Egg," and that has been my other nickname ever since. At home they call me Brother, and at school they call me Egg, and very few of my friends know my real name.
For some reason I have never run with any certain crowd, and therefore, I have never taken part in many school activities, and even today I do not belong to any clubs or go out for any sport.
In 1936 I entered Hanes High School, and found that high school was different in many ways from elementary school; for instance, we had lockers, were allowed five minutes to change classes, and in general, were given a lot more freedom. And another thing: The teachers in high school seem a lot more like ordinary people thatn in elementary. I don't mean that elementary teachers were savages, but they were not as friendly as high school teachers.
I have always loved to go to the country, and in the summer of 1938, Daddy finally consented to let me go for a short visit to my uncle's farm. While I was away, Daddy was injured in an accident with a Greyhound bus, and after I came home, he never regained consciousness. After he died, I felt like the best friend I had ever had was gone, for we were together all the time, and he was the best companion I ever had. After his death, the responsibility of supporting the family fell upon two of my sisters and myself. For a while we got along on what they made, but in 1939 I got a job at Jackson's Grocery on East 23rd Street, and I have been working there ever since.
When I get out of school, I haven't fully decided what I want to do. I am taking bookkeeping and typing, which I like very much, so I guess I will work in an office for a while.
I hope someday to be able to go to a theological seminary and study to be a missionary or a preacher.
My three chief hobbies are collecting matchcovers, reading and amateur telegraphy.
Well, I guess that's about all there is to my rather dull and unexciting life, so right here and now I'll make an apology for the boring time I have given you all talking about my boresome life, but a requirement is a requirement, so I had to do it.
I am in the graduating class of Hanes High School this time, so I guess this is the last time I will have to write a composition. Well, I guess this is the end.
-- Alton Miller, 1942 [he got a B+ on this masterpiece]
Late in life, he wrote a few essays in a book his daughter, Pamela Miller, and grandson, Noah Miller Johnson, who called him "Pipe Grandpa," gave him. Excerpts:
I started smoking a pipe when I was 13 years of age. At that time I was working in my uncle's grocery store and my cousin, J.M. Jackson, gave me a pipe that was broken in. I couldn't afford to buy tobacco, which I think was 15 cents a can, but a salesman for Sir Walter Raleigh gave me samples when he came to the store. He did this so that I would push that brand, as Prince Albert was the leading brand at the time. For many years I would only smoke Sir Walter Raleigh in appreciation for his (commercial) generosity. Except on rare occasions, I never smoked cigarettes. I also smoke cigars on occasion. Probably I should quit this habit, but have not yet convinced myself to do so. Maybe it's because they say that a man who loves his wife, children and dogs and smokes a pipe can always be trusted!
When we were growing up, most of our toys were homemade from spools, oatmeal boxes, scrap lumber, etc. I can still remember how excited I was when I got a "dollar" pocket watch and a Barlow pocket knife!
I once got into hot water for staying out too late on a date. I was double-dating with a friend and we didn't watch the time. When we realized how late it was, we had to walk all the way home as buses had stopped running at midnight and we didn't have money for a cab, even though the fare was only a quarter.
I worked at Jackson's Grocery to help pay my family's expenses. My first pay was $2.50 a week, then it went up to $5 a week. I worked from after school, 3:30 p.m., to 9 p.m., and then about 18 hours on Saturday! That was only about 11 cents an hour! And I worked hard!
After I finished school I worked as a stock control clerk at a local department store (5 and 10) called Silvers, a chain of H.L. Green stores. My salary was $12.50 a week. On weekends, I only had Sunday off as we stayed open on Saturday nights until 9 p.m. and then cleaned the store.
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