Here comes the judge

The Brian Miller we remember

— YOU'VE HAD it happen. You meet somebody for the first time, and he makes such a strong impression in such a short time that you're left thinking: That guy is going places. Better remember his name.

It happened to us a few years back in Helena when we met Brian Miller. That was long before he'd been nominated fora federal judgeship. Actually, he was one of several impressive folks on hand that day, but there was something special about Mr. Miller. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, so comfortable in his skin. Or maybe it was the way he made a stranger in town feel welcome. Or his candorabout all the problems facing his home town of Helena and the Delta in general, none of which dampened his confidence that one day the Delta would overcome.

Brian Miller loved the place. And it showed. He didn't run away. Not even after he got his law degree from Vanderbilt and had the world to conquer/save. Even when he worked as a lawyer for a big firm in Memphis, young Miller commuted back and forth. It's only about an hour away, he said with a shrug.

We were in town to meet with various business and community leaders who'd developed a plan to maybe-this-timefor-sure bring back Phillips County. Mr.

Miller joined us for a tour of Helena's neighborhoods, pointing out historic old homes and abandoned houses once owned by family friends but now, sadly, used for who knows what. He seemed to know everybody in town. Not only who's who but who was who.

Brian Miller may even have come up with the day's best suggestion: Getting fried catfish for lunch at a local landmark

restaurant. At the end of the day, as we

worried about needing some more histori

cal information about the city, Mr. Miller

took us to his house, ran in, and then came

out with all sorts of books and old photos.

Only later did we find out he was the

mayor's son. Only later did we find out

he'd been a city attorney, a city judge, a

deputy prosecuting attorney, and had

served in the Navy. All that

and he seemed so young-

supposedly in his late 30s, but

he didn't look a day past col

lege commencement.

So when the news broke

about one Brian Miller, judge

on the Arkansas Court of Ap

peals, having been nominated

to fill the late George How

ard's seat on the U.S. District Court for

the Eastern District of Arkansas . . . well,

we remembered that day in Helena. And

the impressive young man who showed

us around.

Modesty should forbid, but we had him

tagged right. Brian Miller was going places.

But anybody who's met the man could tell

you that. Come to think, Mr. Miller was go

ing places that day in Helena, too, just by

having such a stake in his community and

an abiding interest in its future.

When Judge Howard passed, we won

dered how anybody could measure up

to his judicial comportment-that calm

fearlessness, that merciless fairness, the

way his very presence assured those in

his courtroom that, here, there would be

no monkey business. Only justice. If there

were a single word to describe Judge

Howard, it would be dignity. His was a

very American court of law, that is, a kind

of secular holy place.

Brian Miller isn't George Howard. Not

yet. But he does seem to have that some

thing special. Remember the name.

Editorial, Pages 14 on 10/23/2007

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