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Wayne Love Miller 1944 ~ 2007 Wayne Love Miller of Salt Lake City departed this life on November 27, 2007. He was the youngest son of Edward and Robbie Miller, who preceded in death. Wayne was born September 5, 1944 in Salt Lake City, Utah. His grade school education was completed at South High in 1962. He received a MA degree from the University of Utah. Wayne was employed at the City of Salt Lake Parks and Recreations as a supervisor. After his retirement from there, he went on to become a counselor at the Valley Mental Health. Wayne was always quiet, dignified and respectful of others. His love for music and the Arts played a major part of his pursuits. He mastered the piano and performed occasionally.
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Gordon Shepherd
I met Wayne Miller at Lincoln Junior High in gym-class intramural sports. Wayne was quiet, diffident if not downright shy, and a good student. In high school, Wayne played piano in the dance band, was one of eight classmates selected to represent South at Boys’ State in 1961, and subsequently was elected to the South High Board of Delegates his senior year. Even without sports, Wayne Miller was one of the most well-liked and respected kids in the school. But, of course, it was in sports that he acquired his chief renown among his classmates. On the track team, Wayne ran the 100 and 220 yard dashes and anchored the 4 x 220 yard relay team. I remember South’s first track-meet of the 1962 season at Olympus High School, at the feet of Mount Olympus in eastern Salt Lake County. It was a chilly, overcast day in late March. Snow still thickly covered the mountains behind the track and the thinly clad runners were shivering. Since I was the school’s sports editor, I was granted permission to stand on the track at the finish line to witness the first race of the day, the 100 yard dash. I stood there in frozen awe as I watched Wayne Miller—a vision of surging power and grace—storming directly at me, ten yards in front of his nearest competitor. Standing next to me at the tape was my counterpart sports editor from Olympus High, who exclaimed, “Jesus! that Black kid from South runs like Man O’ War” (the fabled racehorse from the Roaring Twenties).
South’s 1961-62 basketball team was short, even for a high school team of that era. The tallest senior on the squad was a measly six-two (and he wasn’t even a starter). Wayne was an even six feet. Wayne didn’t play guard, however, and he didn’t play forward, either. He was the center. He was the center because he could jump. He had a short, muscular torso, long legs, long arms and big hands. Did I mention already that he could jump? He was quick; he was fast, and, oh yes, he could jump. Taller centers on opposing teams were too slow to block his short-range jump-shot. And they also discovered that he could spring high enough in the air to swat down their dinky layups inside the paint. Wayne soared for rebounds and, like the big guys, he could dunk.
It came as a shock to learn, in 2007, that Wayne had passed away prematurely at the age of 63. From his obituary I learned that Wayne obtained a Masters’ Degree at the University of Utah and, after retiring from City Parks and Recreation, went to work as a counselor at Valley Mental Health Clinic in Salt Lake. In his spare time, and for fun, he played piano for appreciative audiences at area dining spots and other venues, both public and private. Among other things said in his memory, Wayne Miller’s obituary states simply, “He was always quiet, dignified, and respectful of others.”
Amen, brother. Your respectfulness of others was reciprocated by everyone I ever knew who also knew you. Rest in peace, Wayne. I fear that the country we live in today has failed to progress very far in the direction of acknowledging in actions—and not just words—our shared humanity and sense of mutual respectfulness. I hate that. I nonetheless continue to prize our youthful association in a time and place when we thought the world would be better for us than it was for our parents, and even better for our own children than it was for us. And in too many ways, it isn’t.
Nancy Pratt (Moss)
Wayne was always a gentleman, a good soul, and always respectful of others. He was kind, an amazing track participant, and all around good guy. Sorry his life ended way too soon.
Nancy Pratt Moss
Susan Hemmingsen (Marchant)
I am sorry to say that I did not know Wayne Love Miller well at all. Gordon, I very much thank you for sharing and writing about this amazing dignified individual , giving me the opportunity to at least play catch-up on a limited scale.
I do remember watching Wayne play basketball, observing from my limited field of knowing much of anything at all about the sport, that he was light and quick on his feet and interesting to watch.