LET’S START FROM THE TOP

Actually, let’s start at the beginning.
You see, this story begins a lot like the stories of so many others. Possibly even you.

My father, Michael John Stevenson, was born in 1945 to John & Stephanie Stevenson. After his parents’ divorce, my dad, like his two siblings, were tossed back and forth between the two warring parents, from city to city, state to state and new companion to new companion. Like so many other kids that live within broken homes, his biggest wish was to be part of a loving family while earning the approval of his father as a young man who was in the midst of coming into his own!

Living with his dad at 15 and being miserable, my dad tried running away only to come back about a month later. By the time his father remarried, most of his time was spent at friend’s homes with their families as his new stepmother had officially banned him from entering the house or opening the refrigerator by himself after getting home from school. On the morning of his 18th birthday, my grandfather walked down to my father’s room, woke him up, and told him it was time to pack up his things and move out of the house for good!

Meeting Kathleen King at high school the following year was his first real big break. Kathy was the oldest child of a big family, 7 kids to be exact, and being around them was something my dad was instantly attracted too besides my mother’s good looks. The inclusive nature of Kathy’s mom Rosie and father Jack culminated in 1965 when the two got married and began life on their own.

By 1970, my parents decided it was time to move from California to Sedona, Arizona, after my oldest sister was born. My dad’s first jaunt was being a cook at my grandpa John’s restaurant on the creek until he decided to try running his own place. In 1970, my other sister was born, and my dad tried his hand working as a general carpenter helping frame some of the buildings that still exist today. By the time I was born in late 1973, construction projects had dried up, so my parents put their savings on the line and took over The Red Rock Lodge just outside of town. In early 1974 though, the “Oil Embargo” of Nixon’s Presidency hit, causing fuel prices to skyrocket and tourism to halt. My dad was forced to declare bankruptcy, pack up our family and move us to Southern California in hopes of something new!

A NEW PROJECT

Known by Bill Campbell (his boss) at Cambro as a “problem solver”, my dad was the one tasked with solving the Carls Jr. labeling issue. Of course, he was also trying to solve his number plate decorating nightmare too. But as a few years passed with no major progress, the Carls Jr. project was scrapped in favor of other projects and my dad was moved onto other things.

But with so much time already invested, my dad asked Bill, and was given permission, to continue his research at home.

 A DREAM & A BREAKTHROUGH

I remember my dad coming home from work just to walk through the house and straight for the garage (his R&D lab). He literally spent countless hours studying chemistry books and experimenting with pigments and polymers well beyond my bedtime.  But after years of trial, error, failure, prayer, repeat, my dad said it was God who woke him from a dream with an idea he’d never thought of or tried before in all the hours he studied. He jumped out of bed, ran out to the garage and tried it. And for the first time in a very long time, it worked.

In his mind, not only did he achieve a breakthrough for decorating number plates, he saw the possibility of one day working for himself while offering a breakthrough technology for decorating the world of PE plastic products too.

TWO STEPS BACK

Things seemed to be going well after just a few short weeks of trying out the new printing system. But that’s when my dad got the call he never wanted to get. An upset Hoyle on the other end of the line and in a “firm” voice, telling my dad to come pick up his equipment and take it out of his shop as he was fed up with all black ink and blem boats everywhere. In the matter of a few moments on a brief phone call, 7 years of development was back to square one. For my dad, he was starting all over again. He knew that the only way forward would be to make the process more useable. He had to figure out a way to make a label transfer from a printable ink.

That’s when my dad decided to leave his job at Hydrospa in 1982 and pursue one that might help him perfect what he knew he was so close to un-covering. If this didn’t work, his dreams of self-employment and innovative technology for the world of PE plastics would be over.

ACTUALLY, THREE OR FOUR

That new job he went to, paid off significantly. Through a completely different industry, he found the missing information he needed to change his process. Instead of printing directly to the mold, a customer would only need to apply a printed label transfer and then mold their products as usual. Doing that would ensure a permanent colored label in PE plastic. Visiting a local rotomolder in the area, my dad sold a few odds & end label jobs for some local shops to prove the method.

But it was in 1983, with his new label transfer in hand, that my dad knew it was finally time to showcase his innovation to the world. He decided to attend his first ARM (Association of Rotational Molders) tradeshow. Expecting an open arm invitation as an innovator, he instead got the cold shoulder. As he visited molder after molder and booth after booth, he slowly became even more discouraged. That’s when one of the well-known and long-time members of ARM approached my dad. Uttering a threat, he told my dad that if he ever went around him (the molder) to one of his end customers, he would personally make sure my dad would never sell another label in the rotomolding industry again.

THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS

Slowly, as rotomolded windsurfing boards began to fade away, Kayaks and other industry brands started to take notice of the new technology available to them when labeling their polyethylene plastics.

In 1985, as more and more business came my dad’s way, it presented him an opportunity once again pack up his family and move. But this time, it wasn’t to find his way. Instead, it was to return his family back to the place he had always loved. Sedona, Arizona.

With that came the realization that family is all he ever really wanted in the first place! Looking to find his freedom as a self-made man, he instead found genuine freedom in giving his life over to Jesus Christ. Looking for love and approval from his dad, he instead found it in the arms of the woman he loved and married and the 3 kids they raised together to form a family.

In 1992, my dad was able to purchase some land and build his own first “real factory”. Over the years since we’ve been there, we’ve added on, expanded and made improvements along the way to over 75k square feet of factory space and 85+ employees. A vast difference from that little garage or other rental spaces he had along the way for sure.

Today, my dad sees what MIGS has been able to do in Clarkdale, Arizona. The small community 25 minutes south of Sedona that MIGS calls home. Things he never imagined or really expected when he began in that little garage, but none-the-less, it’s now a company that people here depend on to sustain their lives and the lives of those around them.

What’s truly amazing to me is the fact that I don’t go a day without seeing a label we’ve produced on a product that needed it! On all the kayaks I see on top of vehicles heading through town. On the Rubbermaid dustpans, mop buckets and waste containers at Starbucks during clean up. On the shopping cart flaps at Fry’s supermarket. Or on the cell phone charging pad in my brother-in-laws GMC truck.

The significance, I believe, of what my dad invented so many years ago is unknown to much of the world that uses these products day to day while at the same time being so vital to the Brands that created them. My mission is that our Brand, our significance, will be known to the plastics world by the time I’m done.

A lot has changed over the last 30+ years of MIGS existence except for one thing, the heart of this amazing company will forever be in that small Southern California garage where my dad began so many years ago.

In 2015, my dad officially turned the keys of his company over to me in order to begin work on some of his other creative projects. After all, creating and building things has always been in his blood!

My personal goal is to take this unique company to a whole new level by making the MIGS Labels Brand known to the world while advancing our mind-blowing service to existing customers!

Matthew Patrick Stevenson
President / Brand Specialist, Advocate & Enthusiast