Larry Miller called my house one day. He did that occasionally, usually just to talk. He probably did the same with others in the media.

Along with his many other talents, Miller is a gifted conversationalist, and I enjoyed the calls. When Miller talks, it's all substantive — there's no fluff — and his observations are interesting and illuminating. He is conversant and passionate about almost any subject — painting, sculpture, religion, sports, America, politics, books, you name it.

Anyway, this time he said he had a favor to ask me. What could it be, I wondered? Some advice on a trade the Jazz were contemplating? Not likely. A loan? Even more unlikely. A discounted car deal? I wish.

He explained that he was about to buy the Triple A baseball team in Salt Lake City, and he was going to change the team name to the "Bees," as they were called in his youth. He asked if I would be willing to research newspaper archives to find the original Bee logo from the 1960s, so that he could replicate it for his new team.

Larry Miller has more people waiting to do his bidding than Tony Samaranch. He's got enough money to buy France with money left over to rent Monte Carlo. He owns movie theaters, auto dealerships, a race track, a movie production company, ranches, restaurants, TV and radio stations, a real estate development company, an NBA franchise, a professional baseball team, sports arenas and various philanthropic operations, with a hands-on style of running them.

And he personally called me about a logo?

No detail has ever been too small for Miller. As I once noted in a lengthy (6,700-word) profile about Miller, this is a man who can tell you how many Christmas lights it takes to decorate the trees around EnergySolutions Arena. He selected those trees himself, by the way, after weeks of research. He can tell you how many yards of concrete it took to build the arena, as well.

That's Miller's M.O. Delegation was never his strong suit. His attention to detail and his prodigious work ethic are both strengths and weaknesses.

He worked 70 to 90 hours a week for more than half his life, even long after he needed the money or the headaches. In a page torn right out of the Andrew Carnegie story, this self-made man who dropped out of college after six weeks went from stock boy to wealthy entrepreneur and did it in a hurry.