Piercing outcry

Mik Miller is a mild-mannered 49-year-old business owner. So why does Quincy want to shut him down?
Hint: His dog has a mohawk.

by Sarah McNaught

Just over the Neponset River Bridge from Dorchester, historic Quincy is the birthplace of two presidents -- including John Quincy Adams, the city's namesake -- and home of the nation's first presidential library. But this quiet South Shore city, steeped in colonial tradition, is now the site of a very modern battle over freedom.

On one side is Body Xtremes, a tiny shop in North Quincy that offers clothing, candles, and body piercing. On the other side are townspeople up in arms about the influence the shop might have on their children -- and on the future of a $3 million neighborhood-renewal project.

At the center of the battle is Mik Miller, a 49-year-old leathermaker. A heavyset man with a thinning black mohawk that he often wears pulled back in a ponytail, Miller looks every inch the teen-movie punk. Both his ears are lined with silver hoops, the bridge of his nose is triple-pierced, and his arms are decorated with several tattoos, including a skeleton in a Viking helmet and an elaborate web from which a vivid black spider hangs.

Interviewed in his store, Miller turns out to be a rather soft-spoken man (he assures one self-conscious customer that no one is too heavy to wear black vinyl pants) with a pet Shih Tzu, Marco, that curls up at visitors' feet and sports a two-inch mohawk and studded collar. He has tried, he says, to fit into the neighborhood: he invited neighbors and city officials to watch him at work (none accepted) and also sat for an interview with local high-school students.

Still, Quincy has decided that Miller doesn't belong. Local residents "walk by my store and shout things like `freaks' and `get out of Quincy'," says Miller. He's been the subject of petitions and PTO letters explaining in no uncertain terms that the city's goal is to run him out of town. And there's been trouble from the cops, too, who stop in to warn him not to let his employees "loiter" on the sidewalk. Both of his assistants have recently quit, tired of verbal harassment from passersby and of hassling by cops, who ordered the two of them to "disperse" while they stood outside.

Beyond that, Miller was shut out of the first city hearing concerning his store. When he arrived for the scheduled hearing last month, he was told that it wasn't an official hearing, and thus he wouldn't be given an opportunity to speak. When he and his supporters left, the city council proceeded with the hearing -- allowing opponents of his shop to argue in favor of a restrictive ordinance governing the piercing business, with no rebuttal from Miller.

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The trouble started in June, when Miller opened his red-awninged storefront between Timmy Bakery and South Shore Check Cashing on Hancock Street. The two-block commercial strip consists mainly of small family stores: flower shops, Chinese restaurants, a pharmacy, and a few hair salons. Wollaston Lutheran Church stands at one end, and a new Shaw's supermarket at the other.

But scratch the surface of this typical suburban scene and you'll find Susie's Hair Styling, a small salon that has been shaping mohawks and shaving heads for more than five years. ("We do everything from strippers to big-time businessmen," says stylist Rik, who owns the shop with his sister Susie.) And Dean's Video Express, established 13 years ago, is a video-rental store that stocks its back room with adult movies, magazines, and dildos. (Mik Miller, on the other hand, was told by a city official he could not sell "rubber appliances.")

"The only complaint I had was a few years ago, when [city councilor] Bruce Ayers stuck his nose in here," says the owner of the video store, which is located across the street from Body Xtremes. "Other than that, and a few mothers who say they won't let their kids rent movies from me, I have had no problems."

So why is Mik Miller being singled out?

City councilor Ayers says there are three reasons the middle-aged punk shouldn't be in North Quincy: he's a threat to local business, to public health, and to the well-being of the community -- particularly children.

First, Ayers is angry that Miller has moved into an area currently undergoing a $3 million renovation. Sidewalks have been widened and brick borders added; colonial-style streetlamps now line the road.

"The city has decided to fix up the area to attract new businesses," says Ayers, who himself owns a small company in another part of Quincy. "But this is not the caliber of business we wanted to attract. Miller's store is something you would see in Provincetown or in certain areas of Boston."

Ayers is also making an issue of Miller's impact on public health. After Miller moved in, Ayers and Quincy health commissioner Jane Gallahue began searching for state regulations concerning body piercing. Massachusetts, it turned out, has none, so the two set out to draft their own city ordinance.

The 12-page ordinance, still in draft form, is modeled on state regulations from Oklahoma. It sets strict standards for tool sterilization and needle disposal. That part incurs no objection from Miller; indeed, his hospital-white piercing room is stocked with sterilizing equipment, a medical chair, and a shelf full of supplies from antiseptics to bandages.

It's the proposed training requirement that rankles Miller. It calls for first aid and CPR training, which is standard in the business. But it would also mandate a 15-week class on anatomy and physiology, followed by an apprenticeship with an experienced piercer.

Miller considers that outrageous. "I have been doing body piercing since 1970," he says. "I served an apprenticeship. . . . I have never had a problem with a piercing, and I don't feel I should be put out of business for 15 weeks while I study simple things such as muscle structure and blood -- things I already know."

Miller says if Ayers wants to tackle health issues, he should look into some of the horrifying "home piercings" that walk through Miller's door.

"I have kids pushing ear studs through their navels and then coming to me for advice," says Miller, who has pierced 1500 customers in five months of business. "In fact, I helped out a young guy not too long ago who shoved a meat thermometer through his nipple. The fact is, if I don't do it cleanly and safely, these kids are going to vandalize their own bodies and end up with some nasty infections."

From the attention he's received, you might think Miller is the only body piercer working in Quincy. He's not. A salon called Michael's Heads First and Supertan has been advertising body piercing for the past year without encountering any trouble from the city. Ayers and Gallahue refer to Michael, the proprietor, as a "nice man who doesn't make any trouble for anyone."

Michael says that although he doesn't emulate Miller's leather-and-chains style, he will stand behind Miller as a businessman.

"Sure, we all think there should be regulations for this type of business," says Michael, "But the city is taking this to extremes just because of the way [Miller] looks. I have had officials come into my shop and say, `You should see what he looks like, Michael.' The simple fact is, he has the right to conduct business despite his appearance."

Bruce Ayers might disagree. "I was in there one day and three girls in Sacred Heart uniforms were wandering around," says Ayers, holding up a photo of Miller. "Have you seen Mr. Miller? Look at his picture!"

AYERS SUPPORTS his third complaint by citing overwhelming opposition from the nearby residents of North Quincy.

He produces a few petitions that he has asked residents to circulate around the city. Ironically, though every sheet is filled with signatures (all women, apparently), none of the opponents the Phoenix called was willing to be named.

"Oh, I feel very strongly that freak should be run out of town," says one woman from North Quincy. "My parents grew up in Quincy, and my dad says in his day a shop like that would have been burned to the ground."

Another woman from Quincy says she has two children and fears Miller's influence. "I'm just waiting for the day that my son walks in the door with green hair and a metal plate through his nose," says the woman, whose son is four years old.

Then there's Cindy Baird. Although her name appears on one of the petitions, she admits that she and her husband aren't even sure they oppose Miller's business.

"My husband, in fact, refused to sign it," says Baird. "The only reason I signed it was because someone I care about asked me to." That also seemed to be the case with five other petitioners phoned by the Phoenix; six more of the 14 called did voice hostility to Miller.

Ayers says nearby businesses, too, object to Miller and his shop.

Not everyone agrees. "The truth is, people in Quincy are freakin' bored," says Rik of Susie's Hair Styling. "They should be thankful that they have someone like him here. He's clean, he has his shit together, and kids aren't going to friends with rusty needles."

Dean of Dean's Video says the same: "Ayers saying we have a problem with Miller is absolutely untrue. None of the businesses around here that I've spoken to are offended."

Miller will be given the chance to speak near the end of December, when the city holds a second hearing to discuss what it will take either to "clean his work up" or to get rid of him.

"I have done nothing wrong," says Miller. "And I will not be shut up so easily the next time."

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Sarah McNaught can be reached at smcnaught[a]phx.com.