This car, Lot 32, sold for $3,305,000, including buyer’s premium, at Gooding Christie’s Amelia Island, FL, auction, on March 5. 2026.
Despite his having only achieved an elementary-school education, Harry A. Miller was an unparalleled genius. He began with the invention of a greatly improved carburetor, which was soon produced in Los Angeles in great numbers, then segued into race-car construction. A master with engines, he repaired “Wild Bob” Burman’s wrecked Peugeot twin-cam inline-4, then began building better versions.
Miller’s sleek, beautifully engineered and meticulously finished rear-drive cars were soon showing Duesenbergs the way home both at the Indy 500 and on the whirling high-speed board tracks of the 1920s. Teaming up with brilliant draftsman Leo Goossen, skilled machinist Fred Offenhauser and crack engineer Cornelius van Ranst, Miller began developing a series of speedy, innovative, highly advanced front-wheel-drive racers.
As AAA regulations stifled engine sizes to keep rising speeds down, Miller’s displacements slid from 183 ci, to 122 ci, to 91 ci — yet power outputs still increased. The brilliant, low-slung Miller 91, with its dropped chassis, tubular axles and relatively small, centrifugally supercharged straight-8, developed over 250 hp on racing fuel, and could achieve speeds over 140 mph on the era’s treacherous banked ovals.
The best drivers of the day, intrepid wheelmen such as Leon Duray, Tommy Milton, Harry Hartz and Louis Meyer, all drove Millers. Harry’s sleek steeds were finished like fine jewelry, reminiscent of Ettore Bugatti’s French cars. The two men’s inventive paths would cross, although they never met. Miller insisted he had a greater power that inspired him. He envisioned the logical combination of front- and rear-wheel drive in a single chassis, and he waited for the opportunity to build a car that melded both disciplines. At the worst time possible and despite the risk, as financial markets crashed and racing costs soared, Harry sought an opportunity to build a complex and historically significant experimental car, the Miller FWD Special.
Truck tech
Most Miller projects came to fruition with the Indianapolis 500 as their goal. There was never enough time or money, but that never stopped Harry Miller. Instead of looking to an oil company or a component manufacturer as a principal sponsor, he elected to plead his case for four-wheel drive with an old, established firm that had mastered the technology, but mostly in heavy-duty trucks. Miller convinced W.A. Olen, president of the Four-Wheel Drive Auto Company (FWD) of Clintonville, WI, that a radical racer could beat the competition on the treacherous, often oil-soaked tracks of the era, and pave the way for four-wheel-drive passenger cars in just the way Miller’s front-drive racers had inspired makes like Cord and Ruxton.
Harry reasoned that a four-wheel-drive configuration would offer better grip, a central transfer case would ensure smooth power delivery, and the slight weight penalty would be overcome by his latest engine, a complex and temperamental 308-ci, 4-cam V8. The fact that the unproven combination had been brilliantly (but hastily) engineered didn’t dissuade Miller, nor did it discourage the provincial FWD management. Two FWD cars were built, and in between predictable bugs, they showed great promise. But success proved to be elusive.
As the decade wore down to the 1940s, Miller tried again with a radical rear-engine, rear-drive configuration, sponsored by Gulf Oil. The car was a tour de force, but once again it was ahead of its time.
The Miller mystique
Compared to anything else from the era, Miller racing cars have become rare collectibles. Their complexity, technological brilliance, intriguing individual histories and sheer beauty make them desirable. In 1929, driver Leon Duray (who affected a French demeanor but was really George Gardner Stewart from Cleveland) brought a pair of Miller 91s to Europe to compete. Their speed dazzled the Continental railbirds, but with 3-speed gearboxes and stiff suspension, they were not competitive.
Ettore Bugatti, who was building single-overhead-cam, three-valve-per-cylinder straight-8s, was impressed with the Miller twin-cam heads, which had ironically been inspired by Peugeot decades before. He traded Duray a pair of T.43 Grand Sports and a T.38A chassis, and copied the valvetrain almost exactly. Bugatti’s T.50 road car and the T.51 Grand Prix cars were the result.
Over time, discerning collectors began acquiring Millers. They recognized the sheer brilliance of these cars, and their influence on road and racing cars alike. The Indianapolis 500 Museum had its share. The Monterey Historic Races honored Miller in 1993. Both the Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance and the Amelia Island Concours have hosted a class for Miller race cars. Perceptive collectors such as John Price, Mitchell Rasansky, Lammot du Pont, Richard Driehaus and Miles Collier all coveted Millers. Prices have risen, with front-drive examples considered the most desirable. Because Millers were so expensive initially, they were often modified over time, making an original car highly collectible.
Dano vs. Dana
With its superb provenance, the holy grail for Miller aficionados was the FWD Special. Only two were built, and only this one survives. Predictably, the duel came down to Dano Davis, whose Brumos Collection Museum in Jacksonville has a fine Miller collection, and auction magnate Dana Mecum, who owns some superb examples.
A representative from the FWD museum started the show with a plucky $1 million bid, but that was all he had. Davis and Mecum battled to a thrilling $3.3m finish, which represents a new record for a Miller at auction. Dano Davis was the winner, though Dana Mecum bought the 1924 ex-Tommy Milton “ Speed Record” car in the same sale for $857,500. I’d call this a great deal for both buyer and seller. Rare and technically brilliant, Miller race cars will only increase in value.
