Let me start by offering my sincerest condolences to the Miller family for your loss.
I'm sorry this is so long, but anything less from me just wouldn't be possible.
I had the honor and the privilege of knowing Richard Milller for over half of my life, but now, even that does not seem like enough. Should I feel guilty for being so greedy? No, I admit, I want more. But it was Richard's time, and I'm glad he went peacefully, surrounded by his family. He never stopped talking about you; he loved you all so much.
I want to share just a few of the many memories of my 26-year friendship with Richard. I know they will comfort, console, and amuse me for a long time.
I guess the way we met is remarkable enough. The year is 1979. There I was on the PCH hitchhiking in the rain when Richard picked me up. I believe he was driving a VW bug. We stopped for a beer, his idea of course. I forget where, maybe in Monterey. I was awestruck by this fascinating man. Soon he was telling me I had to meet a friend of his, who was at another bar. He gave me his car keys, told me how to get there, and instructed me to find him and bring him back. So off I go, in his car, to the bar, to find someone I don't know, for someone I don't know, in a town I've never been to before. I get to the bar, and the gentleman in question had just left. So back I go to Richard. I walk in and Richard starts laughing and slapping the bar. He won the bet! The bartender bet him I wouldn't come back, that I would steal his car and be half way to Los Angeles by now. Richard knew I would come back, and we were friends ever since.
Over the years Richard and I spent time in San Francisco, Chicago, New York and Paris, and at his wonderful home in Pacific Grove. In San Francisco we hatched a plan during the Iran Hostage Crisis for me to replace one of the hostages. The big story of the day was the mother of one of the hostages who wanted to travel to Iran to see her son, but wasn't allowed to. So we came up with a plan. I'll take his place; then he gets to go home to his mother. We even wrote a blues song about it, and thought that would help the idea and, if we could record it before I go, could help raise the money for our scheme. I remember the first few lines: "Ayatollah once, Ayatollah twice, taking Americans hostage just isn't nice!"
Richard knew we needed press, so he called the Chronicle. They were skeptical, but sent someone down to talk to us. The reporter listened politely as we told him our plan and sang him the song, asked how to spell our names, and then asked if we had spoken to anyone at the State Dept. Were we aware that there was a ban on travel to Iran? So then we called the State Dept. An agent politely listened and told me how noble the idea was, but that they could not sponsor a hostage trade like that. I'm sure both of our government dossiers grew a little bigger that day. But we laughed and sang that song over and over to anyone who would listen. Thinking back on it now, we never really thought about my mother, and that she would be pretty upset if I went through with such a scheme, but hey, we were having too much fun to be realistic!
Richard was always fascinated by human nature and behavior. In Paris one day, we sat outdoors at a cafe at lunchtime and Richard threw 5-franc pieces on the street just to watch the expressions on the faces of the people who found them. Or saw them and wouldn't pick them up. 5 Francs at the time was only about a buck, but enough for a sandwich or a cappuccino at a cafe. How we laughed as we kept throwing coins on the street. Other people at the cafe, who were appalled at what we were doing, also started watching and, God bless the shy and reticent French, were even amused as well.
One night in Chicago, I took Richard to meet some friends of mine. They were part of a small theatre company that traveled to prisons, and all lived together in a small crowded apartment in Lakeview. An Englishman named John Bergman ran the company. Bergman was sharp, intellectual, sarcastic, and loved a good debate. He and Richard started talking and the rest of us just sat back and watched the sparks fly! Bergman was having so much fun taking an opposing view on everything Richard said. Richard's knowledge of history, combined with his love of art and people, were diametrically opposed to Bergman's cynical and foreign view of American politics, art and people. It was a glorious night. These two intellectual monsters, both drinking, both enjoying the debate skill of the other, put on quite a show. That small kitchen really came to life that night!
Richard was my mentor as well as my friend. He encouraged me to write, act, direct, make music, make films, and be an artist. When a new version of Bohemia was going to be published, he encouraged me to write a new chapter about my years living in Paris, to update the Bohemian experience for a new generation. That was the first of many projects we would work on together over the years.
Richard loved everybody. He made everyone feel like they were important and included them in everything he did. When he met my wife, Kris, he instantly treated her like his best friend. He was like that. He loved her artwork, so much so that when he published Tanglefoot last year, it was important to him to use one of her paintings on the cover.
For the last 26 years, no matter where I was in the world, no matter what was going on in my life, if I came home to find a letter from Richard, I was always immediately filled with joy. I have boxes containing hundreds of letters of correspondence from Richard. Some hand written, some typed, but all containing the wonderful enthusiastic and creative energy of Richard. No one in the world had a greater influence in my development as an artist, and a person than Richard.
Richard always closed his letters in one of two ways; For Fun and Folly, or, We're Flying Now!
My friendship with Richard was one of mutual respect and admiration, and of fun and folly!
Richard, I love you and miss you terribly. You made this world a better place, and you are missed by so many.
Richard, wherever you are, I know you are flying now!
Some of Richard's 13 novels and books include Bohemia; The Protoculture Then and Now, Snail, Sowboy, Canam, and Seaville.
For fun and folly!
