“I looked at the bulletin board and saw a place called Pacific Aircraft, and I thought, Great, let me get my foot in the door while I’m in flight training,” he says, the trace of his New York accent still obvious even after 35 years in Arizona. “So, I went and saw it was model airplanes, and I said, Wait a second, me: pilot; I don’t play with model airplanes.”
Needing a job, he went inside anyway.
“And I met the smartest guy I’ve ever known.”
The man he met was Edward Tuton, co-owner of Pacific Aircraft, an export-import company founded in 1991, and Gibson says he wanted to learn everything he could from his boss. He worked in the warehouse packing boxes for $6 an hour, but when calls came in for help with aircraft models, he turned to Tuton.
“If I answered the phone and someone asked about an airplane and I couldn’t answer it, I’d transfer the call to him. I would listen to that answer because I never wanted to transfer a call again,” he says. The young New York transplant started in model airplanes in August 1993. “And in January of 1995 I was on my way to the Philippines.”
The aircraft models were made in the Philippines and had been since the end of World War II. As part of the company and no longer a student, Gibson had a new career pathway.
“I decided I would put flight training on pause for a moment, do this for a year, sell everybody in the world a model airplane,” he said. “I figured within a year, everybody would have one. Who is going to need one after a year?”
It’s been more than 30 years, and Gibson, now the owner of Factory Direct Models of Mesa, Arizona, still answers a lot of phone calls.
Gibson learned from his mentor but went on his own after Tuton got sick. By then he had learned “the ropes” of model aircraft production and had traveled the world.
“I wanted to see if we could recreate what we had and expand the business. I went through Vietnam, China, Thailand, Indonesia…all over the place. But it turns out nobody else in the world can do it.”
And here is the surprise: In the Philippines, artisans had been creating aircraft models from a single piece of wood, hand-carved and detailed since the U.S. military bases there debriefed troops returning home after the war.
“As they were going through the debriefing and back to the United States, everybody wanted a souvenir. The locals started carving wood into the shape of airplanes the men had flown in. And an industry was born,” Gibson said.
“Every single model is hand-carved, hand-painted, completely made by hand, no hand tools. It is a trade that has not changed since the 1940s.”
He had tried to find other artisans who could do the work, but the Filipino community were the experts, handing down the trade to generations.
“It’s an amazing story. First, I gotta say the Philippines is probably the most friendly culture I’ve ever experienced in my life. They’re the friendliest people in the world, I adore their culture, and I think it’s part of our success,” he said. “They use chisels. Old-school, old-world chisels and rasps. Years ago, I gave our carvers Dremel tools to make their lives easier and speed up the process. They all broke within the week—mysteriously—and I learned you can’t disturb their ways.”
Back to his mentor, Tuton: he didn’t know everything about airplanes, but he researched thoroughly. Gibson followed his way. He had an extensive library and an attention to detail.
“I’m aging myself, but the internet did not exist. We had a huge collection of books; we needed at least three drawings of an aircraft to make the model. Front, side, top. The carvers receive the drawings and carve them from there,” he said.
Today that process is simpler, but it’s still a 26-step process and one that begins simply with a photograph. The customer sends a photograph of their airplane to Gibson who then details it and sends it to the artisans in the Philippines. Then it takes 10 to 12 weeks for the model to be made.
“Everything’s going on behind the scenes; 10 weeks later you’re going to get a photograph of your airplane in a desktop size to approve. We’re going to send you a photograph to make sure we didn’t miss anything; to make sure it’s absolutely perfect because we all know pilots can be finicky. We want it to be just perfect. Once you approve the photograph of the model, we ship it out to you,” Gibson said. “You can’t fake it with a pilot. You make a model, it’s gotta be right or they’re going to tell you.”
His business model is not to have inventory, but have each piece individually made.
“I didn’t want to have $1.5 million in inventory in a warehouse hoping somebody calls up to buy it. That business model for me didn’t seem fruitful. With general aviation, as long as aircraft are being sold, there will always be a customer. There’s some airplanes I’ve made six, seven, eight times to different owners. I make the same airplanes sometimes over and over for different people,” he said. “So long as airplanes are selling, I’m in business.”
We all know pilots can be finicky. You can't fake it with a pilot. You make a model, it's gotta be right or they're going to tell you.—Mike Gibson
Along the way to his success, Gibson became enamored with the people of aviation as well as the historic artifacts of the aviation community. His office in an industrial park outside Phoenix-Mesa Gateway Airport (AZA) is being renovated to showcase his collection of aviation-themed products he has collected from across the world. Often visitors stumble on his office and think it’s an aviation museum for the airport, which was the former Williams Air Force Base.
“When I first started in 1993, I collected everything from World War II. I’ve got a World War II folding bicycle, the only one left in the world. I’ve got a 1941 Willy’s Jeep. Everything on the walls here is all signed, whether it’s Doolittle or the Enola Gay crew or Joe Foss or astronauts like Buzz Aldrin….I’ve got stuff coming out of the closets for my years of collecting,” he said. “There’s a part of a tail hook from an F–4 Phantom, a tread from a tank over there. There’s a piece of the space shuttle….”
He’s also collected people.
“If you name a celebrity and they fly an airplane, we’ve probably built it for them.”
John Tavolta?
“Absolutely. Great guy.”
Harrison Ford?
“Yes.”
Tyler Perry?
“Yes. I can give you a fun little story: Years ago, I got a phone call and they said, ‘We need an airplane for our office.’ And I said we’d build them a desktop model. And they said, ‘Nope, it’s gotta be bigger than that.’ And I said ‘OK, how big?’ And they said, ‘Big.’ And I said, ‘OK, how big is the person’s ego that you’re buying this airplane for?’ And they said, ‘His ego is huge.’ And when I got the specs for the model, it was for Donald Trump.”
But it’s not just the rich and famous that moves him; it’s all the aviation heroes. Jim Lovell. R.A. “Bob” Hoover. Clay Lacy. Mike Goulian.
“I wish I’d gone the flying route sometimes, but the smiles that I bring from model airplanes to so many faces. How could you beat it?” he said. “The consumer I’m working for is the best in the world. They’re pilots. They’re awesome. It’s just been an incredible ride.” 