A contented life of unconventional wisdom

Walking his dog through the woods near his family's Glen Cove home nearly 50 years ago, John "Miles" Meilinger took a new path.

"I stumbled upon a coat factory and saw a Dumpster filled with pieces of leather in blues, purples -- every shade you could imagine," recalls Miles, who was then 17. "I couldn't believe this beautiful material was headed for the dump."

Miles couldn't resist the call of the rainbow-colored collection, and, as an environmentalist, he couldn't bear the thought of it going to waste. So he hopped into the Dumpster, grabbed as much leather as he could carry and asked his mother to show him how to use her Kenmore sewing machine.

"I didn't know then what people told me later," Miles says, laughing, "that it was impossible to sew leather with that machine."

No matter if they had tried to discourage him. Miles, now 65, has never let conventional wisdom influence his decisions. Unlike many, he eschewed the 9-to-5 world and its uniformity, instead setting up his "office" in a barn packed floor to ceiling with leather and sewing machines.

It's the perfect space for the Miles, of Miles Tonne Leather (milestonne.com), to create his unique garments: artful vests, capes and skirts sold online and at five Renaissance fair booths he owns along the East Coast and in Texas. Prices start at $50 for a purse; halter tops are $100 to $150; skirts start at $189; cloaks range from $900 to $2,500.

Miles has made a living for nearly 40 years as an artisan, a lifestyle that has allowed him to follow his creative instincts while being a dedicated father, husband and community member. "I decided many years ago," he says, "that time was much more important to me than money."

Early on, Miles had considered a more traditional life: After getting a business degree on a full scholarship at Adelphi University, he was accepted by the University of Pennsylvania Wharton School.

"I went to Wharton because I was inspired to change the pure profit motive of business and move it in a direction that would benefit society," he says. After one semester, Miles realized the MBA route wasn't for him. "I was the only one in class with bells woven in my beard, wearing a purple leather vest I'd made myself," he says, grinning.

With his guitar and a bagful of leather, Miles headed to New Mexico, where he made his living playing his songs in clubs.

Returning to Long Island in 1974, he answered an ad for a rental house in Bayville at $650 a month. The house turned out to be a Gold Coast mansion-turned-commune on 14 acres with 10 bedrooms, two grand ballrooms, six fireplaces and a Great Gatsby staircase. "The Mansion," as it was called, became a well-known spot in the counterculture community on the North Shore, with artists and musicians setting down roots at the waterfront estate.

"It was a time of real growth for us," says Judy Meilinger, 61, who married Miles in 1977. About 10 to 12 people lived in the mansion at a time. "Everyone participated to make it work," she recalls.

"We had our own jobs and our own lives, but we shared the responsibilities to make the house run smoothly," Miles says. "There was a real sense of this being a special community that we all treasured."

Priya Morganstern, who, like many of The Mansion's former residents remains close to the Meilingers, lived there during college. She shared a room with a boyfriend, paying $37 a month plus expenses.

"The ethos was about healthy, conscious living," says Morganstern, 54. "We pitched in to buy six wood-burning stoves and chopped wood together. The house was filled with meditation and music. It was a very spiritual and joyful place."

"Many residents were exploring Eastern philosophies," Miles adds. "It was a supportive environment for those who wanted to experience a lifestyle not typical of mainstream suburbia."

In the late '70s, the Meilingers took a yearlong detour from craft fairs to explore a less nomadic lifestyle, selling Miles' leather clothing at a store along Manhasset's Miracle Mile. "A fan of Miles' work offered us space for whatever we could afford to pay -- plus one of Miles' leather toadstool seats," recalls Judy. However, "It was taking away the freedom that we valued so highly."

By the time they welcomed their son, Ian, in 1980, Judy and Miles had closed the shop. The Mansion had been sold for development, and they moved into a charming, turn-of-the-century stone house in Huntington Station. Judy taught guitar, and Miles worked on the house -- "his ultimate canvas," she calls it -- building a passive-solar room, carving a kitchen island out of local wood, mounting hand-carved beams and railings. Periodically during the year, the family - which now included daughter Tia, born in 1982 -- took to the road to sell Miles' creations at craft shows around the country.

"Since the kids were little, we'd travel in our van, camping under the stars at night and taking in the sights during the day," explains Miles. Weekends were for working the shows. The children spent much of the school year in a classroom, but during the winter, Judy, who has a degree in childhood development, taught them herself. Once they reached high school, the kids traveled less, and Miles did many of the shows himself. But they were never apart for more than a weekend at a time.

Their unconventional lifestyle left an indelible mark on the Meilinger offspring. Today, Ian, 30, helps run the family business, creating and selling garments at the family's show booths. Tia, 28, makes bags from recycled sail cloth and accessories from recycled bicycle tubes. Like their parents, the siblings are also songwriters and musicians.

Ian's take on their nontraditional upbringing: "It was great." Adds Tia, "Friends wanted to hang out at our house all the time. We felt 'different' in a really good way. . . . Our friends loved spending time with my parents, and they still do."

Time is a precious commodity these days. Miles was diagnosed with renal cancer in 2003. His need for dialysis three days a week is challenging, but he continues to craft a joy-filled life.

"I've accepted my mortality from way back," says Miles. "Life is an amazing, brief fire walk. Every second I have left, I will live it fully."