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Sam Miller 1946-2002

Tributes...

Sam Miller at Spring Carlisle, April 17, 2002

Tribute One:  Remembering Sam

All these words and phrases inadequately describe S. C. Miller— kind, gentle, intelligent, humorous, knowledgeable, talented, artistic, automotive historian, keeper of arcane facts. Our good friend, who never said an unkind word, was taken from us this week. Dale Dannefer stopped in at my job last night to break this tragic news. We spoke of Sam and we both concluded that not only will Carlisle never be the same without him. Neither of us feels like going this Fall. 

Sam was a pioneer, perhaps the first of the cottage industry manufacturers of model cars that were not otherwise available to us. Others have taken up this enterprise, and some have surpassed the technology that Sam used, but nobody has put more love into his work, and given more to the hobby than Sam.

When Sam gave in to whimsy, his creations were nothing less than genius. 

A few years ago, Sam visited Rochester with Clarence Young. Dale brought them to my home and I was very happy and proud that Sam found something in my collection that he had heard about, but had never before been able to confirm. 

Did you ever give much thought to a higher power, or whether things are mere coincidence or something more? I always take pictures of cars at Carlisle, but something made me take a picture of Sam this last time, the last time I saw him.  We were chatting, and laughing as usual, and Sam had uttered a few of his “Aww-Haww’s.”  I had brought him a couple cookies from the Cookie Barn, as I always did, and suddenly, without forethought, I just stepped back and snapped this picture of Sam, surrounded by the things he loved. 

If you believe in Heaven, just know that Sam is surely there, already arranging displays of the things he loved, and if a toy seems to be missing from your home, it might be misplaced, or it just might be up there, being cared for by Sam. 

Sam, we all miss you and hope that you realized you were loved. 

Joe Constantino

September 13, 2002

Tribute Two: About My Good Friend Sam 

Sam and I had “done business” together, swapping models through the mail, for years before we actually met.  From the first list of items for sale and trade that I received from him in the mail (this was long before the founding of Miller Memorabilia, probably about 1970 or so), I recall recognizing a remarkable level of knowledge and enthusiasm in his descriptions of items, with which I immediately resonated.  I recall being frustrated because he had a Banthrico 53 Dodge available that I wanted, but he would not put a price on it, it was strictly a “trade only” item.  

I met Sam in person for the first time when he came to my space, I think it was at the second Fall Carlisle, in 1975.  It was a fast friendship.  Like everyone else, I was immediately charmed by Sam’s combination of exceptional knowledge, wit, and his understated yet savvy perspective on popular culture and society, as well as cars.  We shared a fairly “undisciplined”, “out-of-control” fascination for road-going vehicles from every country, every time period, and of every size shape and function, from 3-wheeled cars to buses.  

I think we began setting up together the following year, along with Frank and Jerry.  Immediately, I recognized partnering with Sam at Carlisle as the wonderful gift that it was.  He brought an ideal mix of energy and humor, clever advance planning in how to arrange our space and wares, and helpfulness – along with a colorful store of tales from Coggins Studebaker/Mercedes dealership and his customers there, and also from other places in Virginia made romantic in his telling.  He also brought, as we can all remember, a fascinating array of his own products, in those early years complete with assembled and beautifully painted samples.  In those pioneering years of Miller Memorabilia, there was enormous excitement about his cottage industry, and the demand for his finished cars always far exceeded the supply.  Some of those early samples have long been among the most prized models in my collection.  And of course, through him we also met our other Virginia friends. 

We also began setting up together at Macungie.  Many times Sam stayed in a low-budget hotel, which he patronized because it overlooked a Studebaker junkyard.  I recall visiting Sam in his room there one of those hot August nights, as he was putting finishing touches on a fleet of Miller Memorabilia 1947 Studebaker truck chassis, of varying wheelbase lengths.  Several times, when he shared the room with Mike or Chuck, I camped out on  the floor. 

We have all said that Sam was an artist.  In fact, his life was largely lived as a work of art.  In so many activities, Sam had an aesthetic, creative quality that extended beyond cars -- and I realize that I don’t even know about many of the things he did.  I do know about things like the “Pepe LePew Room” – all decked out for visitors in Warner Brothers motif.  Sam even turned TV watching into a creative activity after the advent of VCRs -- he produced a private set of videos (of which I have some cherished early volumes) of interesting cars that appeared on TV, whether movies or news.  He called these “Surreptitious Productions” – each starts off with spooky music and a marque suspiciously like Studebaker Packard’s  “S-P”. 

I had the pleasure of visiting Sam and looking at his incredible collection on the farm at Dublin the summer of 1988.  Since the road to the farm was hard to find, he came to meet us at the interstate junction.  “What will you be driving?” I asked him on the phone.  “Something very distinctive,” was all he would say.  He was right, he arrived in his pastel-green 64 Daytona convertible, top down.   

There was much to be impressed by on this visit, but I remember especially how he managed to make models of all different scales, quality levels and materials fit magically together in a harmonious display that chronicled the history of road-going motor vehicles.  I would not have believed it possible to display together crude early postwar Tootsietoys, finely detailed handbuilts and promos in the same space and make it work, but in Sam’s display it was inspiring, shelf after shelf.  I also remember that when he turned on the lights in the collection room, period music automatically started to play; in my memory, this music made the collection seem almost animated.  

Sam’s creativity ranged from the comic (like the charging Dodge Ram character he affixed to the hood of his Lancer Sport Sedan) to highly practical innovations – like the hinged aluminum gate that rode permanently atop that Ford van, and that created for us an instant canopy roof, year after year at Carlisle.  One year, after we were all packed up, I recall the difficulty of trying to flip that gate over and secure it on the van roof in a driving rainstorm with strong winds, in pitch dark.  It wasn’t fun at all then, but it’s a favorite memory. 

I think Sam knew that the things for which we share a fascination won’t be so relevant in the next life, or even on this Earth, in the long run.  Several times recently, he commented to me that “a lot of this stuff is going to be sold really cheap 75 years from now.”  But it seems to me that what was and is really enduring about Sam’s love of motor vehicles is not the material objects themselves – it is the artistry that produced them, and that they represent.  The beauty of flowing lines, the subtle detail of a how a tail light design echoes or complements a side sculpture, the cleverness of the way a model is put together, or the way Studebaker managed to reuse the same doors for years, or the stories of ingenuity in adapting to production challenges – whether at South Bend or in his own workshop.   If as human beings, we are the animal created in God’s image, what that surely means above all is to be creators ourselves, and Sam was nothing if not creative.  This is something that will surely endure.  But as much as he emanated creativity, Sam also had other important characteristics that will endure, and that are also eternal treasures (Matthew 6:19-21).  He treasured friendship – he treasured generosity and fairness ,and honesty, humility and gentleness. As much as anything, he treasured delighting others -- whether with humor, with one of his own creations, or an exceptional “find”.   Joe Constantino’s list of Sam’s characteristics, as well as this one, remind me of the apostle Paul’s list of the “fruits of the spirit” (Galatians 5:22-23) and of I Corinthians, chapter 13. 

Sam also valued sharing.  Early on, he willingly offered to “compare notes” and share what he knew about making models from resin with other cottage industry manufacturers.  Most of the others took a more proprietary and competitive stance and were uninterested in such an open, collaborative approach.  Despite this openness and generosity, Sam was certainly not naďve.   He was a discerning judge of character, and a thoughtful social critic – he certainly understood our society, our government, and our own existence as in need of redemption.  (In one our last conversations, he lamented the lack of universal health care in the US.)  

Although we can each offer transcendent and philosophical speculations, we are all stuck here in the present.  We can be thankful, as Mike said to me on the phone the night before Sam’s memorial event, for having known Sam.  We can be reminded to approach each new day as a gift, not an entitlement.  We can hope and pray that Sam’s leaving us was a good thing for him.  It leaves a gaping hole in our midst, though. 

Valuing friendship as he did, one thing we can all be truly and deeply thankful for is the extent to which Sam was surrounded by caring friends during the last months. He told me many times when we spoke by phone, and I know he told others, how overcome with gratitude he was for the pro-active and loving care he received.  For those of us who were concerned but were far away, this was a comfort, and it clearly meant the world to Sam.  It gave him a chance to experience in an exceptionally profound way, how much others thought of him. 

Sam was extra unique.  He followed his own course, he did it his way, and enriched the lives of many both within and outside the automotive hobby in the process.  There won’t be another.  Although I, and perhaps others, may grow and mature through this experience of real loss and sadness, the overriding feeling I have, and I know that we all have is this:   “We’re sure gonna miss you, Sam.” 

Dale Dannefer

September 20, 2002

Tribute Three:  Samuel Crockett Miller

1946 - 2002

Friend and consummate Studebaker devotee, Sam Miller, died Wednesday, September 4 at 6:35 PM. Sam came from a long time Studebaker family and his Studebaker heritage is well documented. Photographs show his family with Studebakers dating from the turn of the last century with Studebaker wagons and with Studebaker cars in the 20s and 30s. A curious bear at Yellowstone is peering into the window of his Father’s ‘35 Studebaker in one photo. Sam was brought home from the hospital in December of 1946 in his Father’s ‘41 Commander and he remained devoted to Studebakers all his life. His family owned many Studebakers during the 50s and 60s and his Father’s last Studebaker was a ’66 Cruiser that was still in Sam’s garage when he passed away.  

While in high school, Sam wrote a paper on Studebaker and started his model collecting. Upon showing his collection to the owner of Coggins Studebaker in Charlottesville, Virginia, Mr. Coggins was so impressed that he offered Sam a job selling Studebakers that he did until Studebaker stopped producing cars.  

Many in the hobby know Sam through his resin-cast model Studebakers. Sam produced scale models of Studebakers and many other interesting cars. Any one who did business with him will remember him as being totally honest, to a fault, and fair in his business practices.  

As a Studebaker enthusiast and as a human being, he was unsurpassed. He treated the hobby, as it should be, a place to trade stories, ideas and items of interest. He delighted in giving people things that they liked and never asked for anything in return. As he realized that cancer was getting the best of him, he gave his Studebakers and his scale model collection consisting of thousands of cars and his memorabilia collection to his friends, true to form.  

He will be sorely missed.