Yes, There Really Was A Warren Miller; And Now He’s Dead
How many listeners over the years won tickets to the latest Warren Miller ski movie at the State Theatre in Kalamazoo? Yes, there really was a Warren Miller, and now he's dead.
Freezing in a cramped trailer, shooting rabbits for dinner, slurping a gruel of ketchup and oyster crackers: Warren Miller's early 20s would have been downright Dickensian if they weren't so much fun. - Warren Miller obituary in the Los Angeles Times
As the brilliantly written obit says,
Miller and a buddy planted themselves for the winter in a parking lot at the ski resort in Sun Valley, Idaho. They snuck onto the hill without paying, met girls, held parties, and had a marvelous time — a pattern he repeated, and then repeatedly lauded, over more than half a century.
Miller died Wednesday. He was 93.
Warren Miller ski movies were an annual rite, that seemed to always play at the State Theatre. He released one every year for half a century, and narrated many of them.
Warren Miller was born in Hollywood, served in the South Pacific in World War II and then ended up in Sun Valley, Idaho, where "it all began".
The first movie was made for less than $500. Deadline.com says
"Before selling the company in 2007, he wrote, directed and narrated documentaries with titles such as Symphony on Skis, Steep and Deep, Winter Fever and White Winter Heat. Though sometimes turning his focus to the surf, Miller’s niche was, first and last, snow.
I'm not sure if this will end up on his headstone, but Miller told the Washington Post in 1986, ""I learned that you never cook tuna on a Coleman stove in the back of a van when you're wearing the tweed suit you're going to wear to a show."
A lesson we all should remember.