Harry Miller was one of those American originals, the ultimate shade-tree mechanic. He came from Wisconsin, an unschooled genius, and ascended to his own custom motor manufactory in Los Angeles. His strongest ties were with Indianapolis-car racing. To this day, Miller engine development continues in a direct line, Miller to Offenhauser to Meyer-Drake.

Back in 1926, Miller sold John Hacker a straight eight for marine use. This 310 cubic inch design inspired the basic four-hole Indy model and a Gold Cup V-16 as well. The latter measured 620 cubic inches; its blocks, which obviously owed much to the Hacker machine, split 60 degrees from a cylindrical cast-alloy crankcase. Miller also liked double overhead cams, distinguished by "Y"-shaped heads. Class rules at that time prohibited supercharging, but the sixteen managed 400 horsepower with four carburetors. It weighed about 600 pounds.

Horace Dodge thought Miller should motivate various boats called Delphine. They didn't. John Shibe, who probably got his V-16's from Dodge, employed them in Miss Philadelphia and Ethyl-Ruth to no better end. By 1938, one of Shibe's engines had become Zalmon Simmons'. It drove the first big three-point Ventnor, My Sin. Next year, Charles Zumbach rebuilt the Miller; rebuilt it thoroughly, accounting, so they say, for $50,000 in the process. The eccentric craftsman took a quartet of Offys (four-cylinder Millers by lineage), over-bored, and assembled them on the old crankcase to make up a "new" V-16, the Zumbach-Miller. It deserved its hyphenated name. Only the case, shaft, and conn rods were lift from the original. The blocks, pistons, valves, and cams were new. A Gold Cup rule change allowed unblown engines up to 732 cubic inches (matching the international 12-litre class), and with 3 11/16" bore and 4 1/4" stroke, the Z-M displaced 726. Breathing through eight carburetors, it now delivered at least 550 horsepower.

Miller built two much bigger V-16's in only three months especially for Gar Wood's 1931 Harmsworth defense. Wood hardly unwrapped the huge (1113 cubic inches, 1635 pounds, 1500 horsepower) engines, staying instead with his famous Packards. These Millers had two Roots-type, displacement pump blowers, which afforded some 50 inches of boost at 4,000 rpm ... and the crank would turn 6,000. Race car writer Whit Collins once interviewed Leo Goosen, who laid out Harry Miller's conceptions, and he said there was only one of this model. Then there's long-time hydroplane mechanic Leo Mucutza, remembering the year 1948 . . .

According to another story, Hughes just borrowed a Miller from Wood, and broke it . . . Well, that's partly true: He did break one. Wood had sold Hughes the two V-16's at cut-rate. Antique-boat collector Mark Mason confirms that there were two of them, the last power tried in Miss America VIII. Pictures show that boat, with the Millers, running on the Harlem River late in 1931.

A man from Kalamazoo, Michigan, now owns the ''Gar Wood Millers." He restored one (less the superchargers) for display, gleaming and spotless, at the second Detroit race in 1973. Fired up on its test stand, the legendary V-16 "sounded like a squadron of airplanes," Mason says.

That was plenty, compared to what the Canadas raced against in those days. "Canada Third" ran the Miller from 1938 to 1946, when a Rolls-Royce Merlin of similar outward size but much greater power succeeded it.

Harry Miller's chief ravals, back when automobiles fevered every American brow, were the Duesenberg brothers. August and Fred Duesenberg brought glory to the Iowa family name by creating a classic car, of course. Racing was in their blood too, big cars and big engines. Duesys won three times at the speedway.

An automotive engine it was not. Nor, results hinted, a useful Gold Cup engine. It couldn't finish a heat.

In 1935, Herbert Mendelson separated Dodge from one of these wallflowers. His mechanical staff coaxed it to life, adding a blower (permitted that year) and tweaking things here and there. With the centrifugal supercharger, the Duesenberg yielded 700 horsepower at 4600 rpm. Both sight and sound were unforgettable. Twenty-four cylinders exhausting through 30 stacks, for some reason . . . a forest of chromed, vertical stacks. And a commotion "like the main event at a midget-car race," as Dave Speer has written.

Mendelson put the W-24 into three Notre Dames. His last one, Arena-built in 1940, race again in '47 and, under new ownership (and called Miss Frostie), in '48. Later Joe Schoenith bought the boat. It became Gale, the very first Gale; powered by Allison, though, and the wonderful Duesy sang no more.

Today, we are amazed at how those hand-made, jewel-like engines ran for years without replacement. Oh, the Millers and Duesenbergs took sick on occasion, and they wanted care over the winter. Their guardians were exceptional men, too: Zumbach, Charlie Grafflin, Bill Muller, Paul Miller. Comprehensive rebuildings were not uncommon. But the engines didn't break. Crews never switched them during races as is done now. The Wilsons had only spare conn rod sets, Van Patten recalls. That Miller V-12 was still going strong, into 1947. Then, he says, "They changed the gears on the blower drive to raise the boost, and they began having some troubles. Finally a rod came right off the crankshaft and out through the side of the block ... They started to fix it - I guess they had welded up the hole - but Harold Wilson and I got talking about another notion . . . " So the old V-12, cleaned and shining, went on a mahogany stand in Ernest Wilson's office at the Ingersoll tool works.