Henry Miller

Henry Miller passed away on August 26, 2016, at the age of 87. Born to a poor immigrant family at the start of the Great Depression on July 9, 1929, Henry graduated from Woonsocket High School in Rhode Island in 1946, and spent the next two years of his life in the U.S. Army. After leaving the service, he received his bachelor’s degree and a master’s degree in social work from Boston University. With his M.S.W. in hand, Henry spent five years honing his skills in clinical practice as a caseworker in New York City, after which he went on for a Ph.D. in social welfare at Columbia University.

He joined the School of Social Welfare faculty at the University of California, Berkeley, in 1962; it was the start of a turbulent era roiled by the Free Speech Movement, the Civil Rights Movement, People’s Park, the Vietnam War, the Black Panthers, and the psychedelic carrying-on of Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters. In a personal reminiscence of this period Henry summed it up as “a time of trouble, but also a time of excitement. It was deadly serious, and it was sometimes ludicrous. It was both deeply sincere and blatantly hypocritical. Somehow, with very few exceptions, we all survived.”

Henry did more than survive. As an author of four books and numerous articles, he was a dedicated scholar whose research exerted an intellectual force that shaped the field of social work. His scholarly contributions reflected an abiding interest in applying scientific analysis to sharpen clinical judgements and improve the effectiveness of social casework. Henry’s 1971 book, Problems and Issues in Social Casework (with Scott Briar), brought a critical lens to bear on social work practice, challenging the profession to examine prevailing assumptions. A demanding critique of the state of research on casework effectiveness, this work was an impassioned argument for the introduction of evidence-based practice, which is today widely embraced by the profession. Ahead of his time in pressing to advance a rigorous research agenda in the field, Henry was also interested in bringing research technology into the classroom. He was instrumental in helping Berkeley Social Welfare to secure funds for one of the first instructional computing labs on campus, which focused on using computers as an integral tool for instruction.

While seeking to strengthen the scientific foundations of social work practice, Henry never forgot his roots as a child of the Great Depression. He was deeply engaged in studying unemployment and poverty in American society, and the existential experience of vulnerable populations. His 1991 book, On the Fringe: The Dispossessed in America, examined the customs and mores of transient groups —vagabonds, hobos, hippie street people, and the present-day homeless — from the middle-ages to modern times. Henry was particularly interested in the way these groups were both stigmatized and in some cases romanticized as free spirits. He found these public attitudes wanting; the dispossessed deserved more. The recognition of human dignity and all people’s entitlement to respect are themes that echo throughout his work.

Henry was a modest person with a quick smile, which never left him. A few months before his death two friends brought some delicatessen over for lunch. After taking the first bite, he nodded his head, smiling: “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that Jewish people don’t put mayonnaise on a pastrami sandwich?”

A hard-nosed empiricist, Henry wrote with the warm-hearted hand of a poet in prose that conveyed deep sympathies for the disadvantaged without romanticizing the human condition. An exceptional scholar and teacher, he was loved by his students, admired by his colleagues, and highly-respected by all who knew him. He is survived by his wife Connie Philipp and their children Philipp and Laura, his sons Adam and Charles from his first marriage to Alice, and seven grandchildren.

Neil Gilbert
2016