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This history snapshot is excepted from Paul D. Hoch’s Carlisle Car Shows: Collectors, Cars, and their Stories. You can get the entire book from our online store or in person at History on High.

Bill Miller

William Miller grew up in uptown Harrisburg, just a block from the Susquehanna River. Near his home along River Road there were many service stations, and one in particular kept many worn out cars behind it. Bill as a youth would get into them and pretend he was driving, working the clutch, shifting gears, stomping on the accelerator and twisting the steering wheel – just wishing they’d come alive. He was always a car guy, strangely drawn to oddball cars, or orphans as he called them. His first flame was a Henry J, a Kaiser-Frazer product. He passed a dealership on his way to school every day where sometimes he would linger so long watching them unload cars that he would actually be late for school. When he was seven, the ’51 Henry Js came out, and he was head over heels with a fancy for that car. And a faithful affair it’s been as he’s never been “alone” since he bought the first one at age sixteen for $10. But in the early years it had all the hallmarks of a teenage crush. He bought the car at a Harrisburg city auction from a slate of vehicles that had been towed in but remained unclaimed. When he became upset with the car for any reason, real or imagined, he sold it to someone else. Later he’d have second thoughts and buy it back only to get mad and sell it again. This stormy relation ship continued until he had actually bought the car four different times, each time paying more than the last.

That car introduced Bill to the old car hobby and also to drag racing. With the 134.2-cid flathead four rated at 68 horsepower seen in Jeeps, he ran against Model A Fords and late model Jeeps, mostly at South Mountain Drag Strip in nearby Boiling Springs. He was there every Sunday and normally did about 18 seconds flat on the 3/16-mile-long strip. As each race finished the officials would open hoods and check engines. After a while they stopped checking his. That tempted Bill to drop in a 283. He never did it, but he said, “It sure would have surprised them if I had!”

With his racing success he collected all sorts of trophies, including a “Little Eliminator” award. Still, he knew that his Henry J was not in the same class as the Mopar muscle cars that ruled the drag racing world in the 1960s. For those cars a racer had to go to the York US 30 Dragway. The alternative to that was found in the car club he joined in New Cumberland, just across the river from Harrisburg. The other members were older than Bill, and they raced on the streets. While it wasn’t a good thing to do from a public safety standpoint, it was, to a degree, an accepted weekend activity for kids of that era (the local police probably didn’t quite see it that way). Cars were a dominant cultural element of the ‘60s, and Saturday night was perfect for cruising. Two favorite spots for cars to gather were the Barbecue Cottage and the Blue Pig, both on River Road in Harrisburg, now North Front Street, and both serving pork barbecue with “curb” service. The larger of the two was the Barbecue Cottage that had room for about 100 cars in the parking lot. Kids, including Bill, would circle the lot looking for someone that wanted to race and then drive onto River Road for the contest. Before too long the cops started cracking down, especially on kids 18 and older. Sometimes they even sent them to jail. Bill remembers that it paid to have the faster car, because the cops couldn’t catch both of them and had to settle for the slower one.

Even though Chevys were blowing away Fords in races those days, Bill bought a low-mileage ’61 Ford Sunliner with a 292 V8 in 1962. He could push it to 95 mph in second gear overdrive but blew the bearings out after he’d put about 2000 miles on it. With a 3000-mile warranty, he and his father went back to the dealer and explained how carefully the car had been driven, which as far as Bill’s father knew was the truth. The service manager agreed to fix the car, and then Bill blew it out again the following year. That’s when he came close to owning his first Corvette. His dad wanted him to buy a “normal” new car, but Bill had his eye on a Honduras Maroon Corvette, a leftover ’62. He took his dad for a ride in it, driving very carefully, and he had him nearly convinced. Back at the dealer, his dad asked how much horsepower it had, and the salesman replied, “He could kill himself in a car this fast.” That was the end of the Corvette story. Bill ended up with a red Galaxie. He graduated from East Pennsboro High School in 1961. After that, he enrolled in the Harrisburg Center for Higher Education, which eventually became Harrisburg Area Community College. He also attended Messiah College in Grantham, PA. Meanwhile, he was working summers at the Sunderland Chevrolet dealership in Lemoyne. He was asked to stay on in sales, but he had already paid his tuition for the upcoming Messiah semester. The next day at the dealership, he found a check on his desk to reimburse him for the tuition. So he decided to forego college and remain at Sunderland. Being successful at that, he progressed to sales manager and then general sales manager. After about twelve years he purchased the Garber Motor Company in Elizabethtown, PA and renamed it Bill Miller Ford Mercury. Soon after that he bought two Chevy dealerships, one in Downingtown, PA and one in Woodbine, NJ. Along the way, he met the other desire of his life, Peggy, who was a waitress in a restaurant where Bill often ate lunch. They were engaged during her senior year in high school, and they were married shortly after her graduation in 1967.

Throughout all those years, he still had the Henry Js that he bought as a teenager. Besides that first one, he had bought another for $35 and kept it for 23 years. In 1969 he bought a cream puff 17,000-mile Henry J and still has the car in his collection. Prior to 1974, car shows everywhere were organized by clubs, and almost all placed their emphasis on classic and antique cars. Dick Langworth was an automotive enthusiast and writer whose interest ran the gamut when it came to brands and models. He lived in the same neighborhood as Bill and one day noticed the Henry J parked in front of Bill’s house. He left a packet of Kaiser-Frazer Owners’ Club information on the windshield, and Bill’s interest in Henry Js prompted him to join. He and Dick soon became good friends with their mutual interest centered on cars. Before long Dick started the Milestone Car Society for enthusiasts of all cars, regardless of marque, built after 1945 and generally before 1971.

Chip Miller

Chip Miller, born Elliot S. Miller in 1942, grew up in Jenkintown, PA with a younger sister and a much younger brother. Cars caught a space in his heart when in 1957 he spotted a Popular Mechanics magazine lying in a street gutter with a custom car on its cover. A little later he advanced that fascination with the discovery of another magazine with a ’57 Corvette on its cover, and that sparked a deep affection for Corvettes. By the time he was a junior in Jenkintown High School he was already known as a “gearhead”.

There in the halls of the school his attention was distracted by sophomore Judy Lachman. True to form, their first date was going to a drag strip where he was going to race. On the way to Judy’s house he had a serious transmission problem which he repaired on the spot. In the process he got pretty well covered with grease and grime. When he rang the doorbell and Judy’s father got a look at him, he questioned his daughter’s choice in grimy suitors.

His first job during his high school years was working at a gas station. When a neighbor wrecked a ’62 Corvette, Chip bought it, took it home, and repaired it so he could drive it. A favorite hangout of car guys and girls was Hot Shoppe, a drive-in restaurant with car hops, situated on a big parking lot. When the guys – who were always looking for a race – found a competitor, out of the parking lot and up York Road they went. Chip was frequently in one of the races and won as often as not.

Following high school graduation he attended the State University of New York at Farmingdale where he earned an associate degree in mechanical power engineering. That helped him land a job in design at Ferguson, a manufacturer of conveyor systems. After working there for several years he moved to the Rapistan Conveyor Co. and started selling conveyors in the Tri-state area.

On September 1, 1966, Chip married his high school sweetheart Judy. In early planning for the wedding, the selection of a date was the first priority because the honeymoon would be spent at Indianapolis Raceway Park. The raceway was home of the U.S. Nationals, considered by many to be the most prestigious drag racing venue in the world. When they got back from the honeymoon they moved to York, PA where they would live for more than twenty-five years.

Before they were married Chip sold the ’62 Corvette and bought a ’63 split window. In the winter of 1965 he was working in Jersey City and realized that the Corvette needed a state inspection and asked a friend to take it to the inspection station. It had snowed that day, and his friend wrecked the car. Chip had the car repaired and promptly sold it to buy their first new Corvette, a ’69 red coupe which is still in Judy’s garage! With that purchase Chip became interested in joining the newly formed York County Corvette Club for which he later served as president. As members of the club, he and Judy attended rallies, autocrosses, and car shows, making many lasting friendships along the way.

Over the next few years Chip and Judy would be blessed with three children, daughters Evelyn and Jennifer and son Lance. Judy was so sure that they would have a third girl that she told Chip if they had a boy he could pick the name. To him, Lance sounded like a good car name after Lance Reventlow, designer of the Scarab. After Chip made sure that Judy and Lance were fine and in good hands at the hospital, he returned home to continue his project of painting the Corvette emblem on the bottom of their swimming pool. Judy didn’t have a phone in her hospital room, and her mother couldn’t reach her. In desperation Judy’s mother called the house and found that Chip was there in the pool painting. She mildly chastised him for not being with his wife at the hospital. Chip explained that all was well with Judy and the baby and went back to finishing the pool project. The whole incident made for a good and often repeated story afterward.

As the kids grew a little older, the family would take vacations together. The vacation site was always near a car event, including National Council of Corvette Clubs conventions in Atlanta, Dallas and Indianapolis as well as many other Corvette spots.

Chip, usually full of energy, was uncharacteristically still in bed one April first morning while Judy, the kids, and the family dog, a Golden Retriever named Mork, were gathered in the kitchen. Knowing how particular he was about the condition of his cars, Judy said,“Let’s play an April Fool’s joke on your dad. Let’s tell him the dog scratched the car.” So the four of them plus the dog went quietly up the stairs and to Chip’s bedside. One of them nudged him and said, “Dad, Mork scratched the car.” Covers flew in all directions, and Chip, without his glasses, set an indoor speed record in getting to the garage. But without his glasses he could see very little and certainly not a scratch made by a dog. The sight of him pressing his nose up against the car trying to find the blemish had Judy and the kids soon howling with laughter as they shouted, “April Fool!” A little upset at first, he was soon joining them in enjoying the joke.

He never stopped teaching his kids to be grateful, and polite, and forgiving. A few years after the April Fool caper, Chip took the family out to dinner. As they were leaving, Judy said, “Let’s go grab some ice cream.” That sounded great to the kids, and off they went. When they got to the ice cream shop, Chip drove into the parking lot and right out again. When the kids’ howls died down, he said, “You guys never said thank you for dinner. What makes you think you deserve ice cream?”

When Lance was twenty he was in college in West Palm Beach, FL and had a ’90 R9G Corvette. The car was rare, being one of only 23 built, but it was fun to race. Inevitably, he wrecked the car. Totally. Then he called his dad. Chip first wanted to know if Lance was okay, and when the answer was yes he let loose on Lance and hung up. Judy was in the room and quietly asked if Lance was okay. When Chip said he was, she responded, “There are thousands of cars out there. You only have one son.” Without any hesitation he called Lance back and had a great conversation. Later that year, on Lance’s birthday Chip led him to the top of the North Hill where there were two race cars, one for each of them. It was the perfect closure to the whole incident.

Friends

An indication of Chip’s creativity was evident with his 35th wedding anniversary gift to Judy. He searched far and wide until he found what he knew would be perfect. On the big day he led Judy to the surprise, a 35th Anniversary Corvette with only 35 miles on it! “Life is good”, was Chip’s mantra, and he knew he was blessed with his wife and family and with his cars. Devotion to both would last a lifetime.

Chip passed away with his family by his side in April 2004 after a battle with amyloidosis, also saddening the connected world of car collectors. Judy established the Chip Miller Charitable Foundation (CMCF), and his friends rallied in support. The mission of the CMCF is to empower people with the knowledge about and understanding of amyloidosis, particularly in how to detect it early, how to ensure a better quality of life for those afflicted with the disease and to how help science find the cure. Amyloidosis is a disease
that occurs when substances called amyloid proteins build up in your organs. Amyloid is an abnormal protein usually produced by cells in your bone marrow that can be deposited in any tissue or organ. The disease can affect different people in different ways. More information and a way to contribute can be found at www.ChipMiller.org.

The two young Millers were about as car crazy as they come. In the mid to late sixties they couldn’t wait for the next car show or flea market so they, each without knowing the other, could walk the aisles looking for parts they needed for a project and, even more importantly, meet up with old friends engaged in the same hobby. Incredibly, Bill and Chip never met before 1969. Finally, at a car show in 1969 a friend of Bill’s said to him, “Do you know that guy over there?” Bill said he didn’t. “Well,” his friend continued, “I’ll tell you what. You’ve got to meet him. He’s just as crazy about cars as you are. You guys should know each other.” After the introduction, the two new friends spent the rest of that day, all night, and all the next day, without any sleep, together. They were instantly two gearheads in harmony with each other. They soon were being seen together at flea markets and shows and had to explain that even though they were both Millers they were not related, just two men drawn to each other by their mutual love of cars, old and new alike. The relationship quickly grew into a solid lifelong “best” friendship. Bill later said, “We got so close over the years; we worked together all the time. The neat thing about Chip was that everyone he met was his friend.”

For what they ultimately achieved as partners in the collector car industry they attained some very prestigious awards. In 1996 Chip and Bill were selected for Meguiar’s Collector Car Person of the Year Award, sponsored by Meguiar’s Car Care Company. At the time they were credited by Motorsport.com for coining the phrase “collector car.” Later, in 2014, they were inducted into the Central Penn Business Journal’s Hall of Fame for their efforts in developing internationally recognized car shows in Carlisle.

Get your copy of Carlisle Car Show here.