Arrow-right Camera
The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Tailored Protection Kellogg Business Makes Industrial-Strength Clothing

Bekka Rauve Correspondent

The length of a stitch, the choice of fabric, or placement of a seam hardly sound like matters of life and death.

But sometimes they are.

“We have to be so careful,” said Brenda Stinson, her gaze brushing Silver Needle’s crowded sewing room. “One boo-boo could literally get someone killed.”

The Kellogg company designs clothing for a variety of industrial uses. One client, a large copper mine, asked the Stinsons to come up with a way to protect its employees from splashes of molten metal. Another, an Alaska oil refinery, needed flame-retardant clothing that would keep workers warm at 70 degrees below zero.

Larry, Brenda’s husband, ran down a list of current customers.

“These guys constructed the engine for the space shuttle Discovery,” he said, unrolling a poster of the shuttle. “They work with highly explosive materials. They can’t have any metal on their coveralls. One spark, and…” His voice trailed off.

Such high-tech, big-ticket projects are a far cry from what the two envisioned when they started the company.

“Actually, I started the business with a girlfriend,” said Brenda, 45. “I worked in the sewing room at Bunker Hill at the time. We were going to quit and earn pin money making tool bags for the mines in our spare time. But no sooner did we get an industrial sewing machine and buy a bunch of fabric than Bunker shut down.”

That was in 1981. Stinson’s friend left the Silver Valley when her husband found work elsewhere. Larry, 48, turned down job offers that would have taken him out of the area. The Stinsons weren’t ready to leave.

“We decided to make a go of the business,” said Brenda. “We were so naive. We had no idea what we were getting into.”

Their first major order came from a Los Angeles company, for about 6,000 warehouse aprons. Both Stinsons sewed from 7 a.m. until midnight daily, until the monthlong job was done.

“We worked in the house for three years. Sewing machines in three rooms. Boxes of stuff all over the place. Crawling around on the kitchen floor, cutting stuff out with blisters on our hands.” Brenda shook her head.

Finally fed up, she investigated the cost of renting a storefront in Pinehurst. Larry declared it too expensive. Brenda rented it anyway.

They started a retail sewing shop mainly so they could purchase zippers and fabrics at wholesale prices.

“We were our own best customer,” Brenda recalled.

Now, 12 years later, the Silver Needle occupies three separate buildings on Main Street in Kellogg. The retail shop has prospered nicely. The cutting and sewing departments sit on each side of a quiet side street. The Stinsons employ 43 people. They’re represented by Industrial Supply, a Salt Lake City distributor that refers clients who need solutions.

“For example, a safety person will call and say, I’m pouring molten aluminum at 1200 degrees with a lot of splash. What do you think I should be using?” Brenda explained.

“Larry tells them which fabric is most often used for that application. We send them some sample garments for testing, then they decide what to buy.”

Brenda designs and creates patterns for each new project.

“You have to be a little crazy to do this work. But it’s interesting,” she said. “We have one company that manufactures air bags. Can you believe it - what makes an airbag blow up is a cap about the size of a baby aspirin. The instant it’s hit, the bag fills.” She paused. “Can you imagine if somebody swallowed one of those things?”

The Stinsons make coveralls and lab coats for the air bag manufacturer.

Lately, the Stinsons’ work has led them into the field of cryogenics, the physics of very low temperatures and their effects. Last week, Brenda Stinson traveled to Salt Lake City to meet with the client, a Northwest gas company working with liquid gas at temperatures to 264 degrees below zero.

“It’s incredible. If you spill that stuff on your finger, your finger breaks off like glass,” she said.

At those temperatures, normal fabrics also shatter. What material wouldn’t?

Larry grinned. “It’s a secret,” he said.