Henry Miller Jr., Kansas City singer with a ‘true bass’ voice, dies at 80

Editor’s note: This feature is part of a weekly focus from The Star meant to highlight and remember the lives of Black Kansas Citians who have died.

When Henry Miller Jr. sang for an audience, whether it was in a house or a mall, or most often a house of worship, he put all of his energy and his focus on belting to the back of the room. He didn’t care how he looked.

He squinted his eyes and shook his clean-shaven head, his mouth formed into a perfect oval, his chin vibrating from his rumbling bass voice.

Miller Jr.’s son, Henry Miller III, remembers clearly when his father sang “The Lord’s Prayer” during his wedding 18 years ago. A fuzzy VHS tape, marked Sept. 25, 2004, captures the unforgettable moment: Miller III and his wife are struggling to light the large white candle that represents their eternal unity. They’re each using their own, smaller candlesticks to try to spark a flame, holding their hands at odd angles as nearby attendees shout out their own advice. All the while, Miller Jr.’s operatic voice fills the chapel.

The attention of the crowd — and even the cameraman — turns to Miller Jr. as he reaches to the song’s big finish, extending the words “forever” and “amen” into long, crescendoing riffs packed with emotion. Applause erupts the moment the last note fades, an unexpected ovation.

Miller III had no problem with his father stealing the spotlight for a moment, impressed along with the rest of the crowd by his moving tribute to the new couple.

His younger sister, Antoria Miller, believes something “angelic happened that day.”

Though it wasn’t unusual for their father.

“He sings that — ‘The Lord’s Prayer’ — at funerals,” Antoria said during a telephone interview. “The same thing happens when he sings. People clap.”

Miller Jr., whose singing career with the First Baptist Church choir and the Kansas City choral group Potpourri was part of a lifetime of connecting with people through music, died Dec. 27, family said. He had been living with Miller III in his Avondale, Arizona, home for the past few years since his wife, Nancijo Miller, died in 2015 and his health began to decline. He was 80.

A memorial for Miller Jr. was held March 12, nearly three months after his death, because he had wanted to have a spring funeral unlike his wife’s dreary winter service. It honored a man who was many things — a doting father of three, a hard-working employee for companies like UPS, a mentor to kids in his church youth group and an adventure-seeking RV owner.

Music, as loved ones pointed out, was a constant in his life.

As his children grew up, they were surrounded by the sound of their father playing Nat King Cole songs on the piano, or singing songs by The Spinners or putting on any one of his old records, perhaps by Charles Earlin, Miles Davis or MFSB. Sometimes, upwards of 20 members of Potpourri would be standing in their living room, harmonizing to a song, Antoria said. The crowd would invariably spill out into the backyard for barbecues, with Miller Jr. manning the grill.

The former singing group — whose name came from the fact that they were diverse singers, young and old, from different churches — performed at sanctuaries in Kansas City, Wichita and Denver, and at events put on by groups including the NAACP and the American Cancer Society. They sang at a Martin Luther King Jr. Day celebration in Kansas City.

Every once in a while, Miller Jr. would get asked about his expressive manner of singing.

“He would contort his mouth, because my dad was a real singer,” Antoria said. “People used to always say, ‘Why do you do that?’ He’d be like, ‘That’s just how I sing.’”

A life serving others

Born on April 29, 1941 in Kansas City, Kansas, Miller Jr. was essentially an only child, with a half-sister roughly 18 years older than him who had already moved out. His father had a job with the railroad company, Antoria said, and together with his wife managed a couple of businesses like a restaurant.

One of the defining moments of his childhood came when, at the age of 14, a Boeing 707 plane crashed right across the street from him, near Eighth and Nebraska. He was at the home of Gladys Kushan — the woman who started Potpourri — and she was giving him a piano lesson, recalls her daughter, Gladys Watson, 72. A thundering boom rocked their block. Then they ran outside.

The tail of the plane sat on the other side of the street, and homes on that side were on fire as well as some of their neighbors. Watson was frozen in fear; Miller Jr., somehow, wasn’t.

“Henry grabbed me and my mother grabbed my sister, and Henry ran us down far enough away to a neighbor’s house where my mother could call my father,” Watson said. “I will be eternally grateful to him for that.”

Miller Jr. loved singing from the time he was a young child, and he gravitated to the theater at Sumner High School. He starred in several productions, including A Midsummer Night’s Dream, the fantastical, romantic Shakespeare play with proclamations of love both spoken and sung.

The story goes that Nancijo saw him up on stage, singing with a big smile on his face, and he stole her heart.

They were wed fresh out of high school while she was pregnant. One month later, she gave birth to Miller III. And not long after that, Miller Jr. joined the Marine Corps.

His children still aren’t exactly sure why he wanted to go through the notoriously rigorous program while starting a family, but his son noted he joined with his friends, and he felt a certain brotherhood with them.

He left the service after four years so he could be with his father, who was sick. His next assignment would’ve been in Hawaii.

“He helped his mother take care of his dad,” Antoria said.

He first got a job for the post office and later became a driver for UPS, where he spent the majority of his career and rose to the role of supervisor. His love of driving extended into his personal life, too, like how he took an RV trip to Canada once a year with his wife. They would do nothing for days but fish in the wilderness, one of their favorite pastimes.

Miriam Dozier, a close friend of the children, recalls Miller Jr. was a youth group leader and would often volunteer his free time to drive them. He took them to haunted houses around Halloween, church conferences on the weekends and, in the summers, cross-country road trips to camps in Memphis and Philadelphia. He knew how to safely drive the bulky church van through busy interstates.

On top of that, Dozier said, he could tolerate the hyperactivity of a bunch of pre-pubescent kids, and even get through to them. He taught kids to resolve disputes with kindness and respect, Dozier said, and that the boys should treat the girls like young ladies. He counseled people one on one.

They would often invite themselves over after Sunday church, since “Dad Miller” — as he was known to them — could never say no, Dozier said. Their house was a gathering place for many.

“We could always go there to laugh and have a good time,” Dozier said. “And for some people who may not have had the type of home life that the Millers had, we had it when we were there.”

‘A true bass’

Dozier, who stayed close with Miller Jr. even as he moved to Phoenix, spoke at his funeral about how he was a father figure to many kids in the church. She was one of several people to talk, including Watson, who discussed the crash and credited Miller Jr. with saving her life.

The plan was to close out the service with the clip of him singing “The Lord’s Prayer” at his son’s wedding, but the video wasn’t working.

Watson feels that was likely for the best, since it might have been too sad for the young children to see him performing once again, now that he’s gone.

She knows, too, no one will ever be able to forget the way he sang.

“He had this twist to his mouth he gave,” Watson said. “It was just a true bass.”

Aremon Jackson

Aremon Jackson, a mother of six and accomplished accountant who owned two businesses in Chicago, died February 27, according to an obituary shared by Golden Gate Funeral & Cremation Services Inc. She was 71.

She was born on September 17, 1950 in Chicago, where she grew up, the obituary said. She graduated from high school in the city and went on to attend Chicago State University, earning her degree in business administration.

She worked for several accounting firms in Chicago and later became the owner of two businesses, according to the obituary — J&J Fisherie, on the west side, and Honey-Jack’s Deli on the southeast side.

She married her husband, Leroy Honeycutt, in 1997 and they later moved to Kansas City, Missouri. She began working for the IRS as a claims auditor and rose to the role of department manager. She retired last year.

She was described in the obituary as a fierce woman, always sticking to what she believed in and defending those she loved. She also enjoyed playing jokes on her relatives.

She’s survived by her husband, Honeycutt; children, Keith, Katrice, Jeffrey, Shonica, Sunil and Keila; siblings, Barbara, Earl, Velma, Janice, Clinton and Myrtle; 11 grandchildren; several great-grandchildren; and aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, cousins and friends.

Marilyn Harris

Marilyn Harris, a loving mother and grandmother who did volunteer work with her church such as feeding the homeless, died on March 7 in Overland Park, according to an obituary shared by Thatcher’s Funeral Home. She was 75.

Born on January 13, 1947 in Kansas City, Kansas, Harris was the fourth of nine children in her family, the obituary said. She moved to Louisiana during her childhood and graduated from a high school in Rayville in 1965. She then came back to Kansas City.

She worked in the central service department of St. Luke’s Hospital for 25 years, retiring in 2012.

As a devout member of her church, Timothy Baptist, she was an usher and volunteered for community service.

She enjoyed fishing, traveling and looking after her plants, according to the obituary, and loved being with her children and grandchildren.

She’s survived by her children, Kimberly Smith, Monica Smith, Derek Smith and Muctaru “Shako” Smith; siblings, Nelson Fuller, Louis V. Harris, Louis C. Harris, Malinda Smith, Myrtis Harris, Sheila Harris-Williams and Minnie Harris; six aunts; one uncle; eight grandchildren; and several nieces, nephews and cousins.

Gloritis Sloan

Gloritis Sloan, a mother of one and longtime nurse with “the heart of a servant,” died March 6, according to a Thatcher Funeral Home obituary. She was 67.

Born on September 19, 1954 in Kansas City, Missouri, Sloan — affectionately known as Glo — was one of eight siblings, the obituary said. She graduated from Sumner High School in 1972, entered a nursing program and, by 1973, had received her Licensed Practical Nurse certification.

She went to work as a nurse for St. Margaret’s Hospital, now known as Providence Medical Center. She retired in 2020.

She was a natural helper, always jumping at the opportunity to do something for someone else — a trait that made her a wonderful health care worker.

One of her favorite things to do was attend church at Salem Baptist, where she sang in gospel choir and assisted with Sunday school. She continued going to church over Zoom after the coronavirus halted in-person services.

She had one child who preceded her in death, who was the “love of her life,” according to the obituary.

She’s survived by her siblings, Rosemary Avery, Sandra Thomas, Oscar Sloan Jr., Camilla Cochran, James Sloan, Karen Martin, Doretha Sloan; three grandchildren; one great-granddaughter; one God-sister; and several nieces and nephews.