Mark Trumper has a sharp business mind and a soft heart. The dirt-poor juvenile delinquent has come a long way.

Mark Trumper set a plant nursery on fire. He hopped onto a moving train and returned home two days later. He broke into an elementary school. As a juvenile delinquent in St. Paul, Minn., he didn't obey instructions—except one.

"I knew it was my job to get the door," Trumper says. "You weren't allowed to serve foreclosing papers to people under the age of 14. If I opened the door, our family was safe."

Mrs. Trumper raised seven children behind that door at 1017 Fairmont Ave., and she often had good reason to toss her middle child directly through it. "I was more than a bad kid," Mark says. "I was downright awful—an absolute pain in the neck."

Mrs. Trumper could deal with a pain in the neck. She could lock Mark out of the house for an hour when he came home late. She could scold with a scowl. She couldn't deal with the pain in Mark's teeth.

"I remember watching Mom sob because she couldn't afford to send us to the dentist," Trumper says. "My teeth hurt like crazy from cavities, and it just broke her heart. I'd pass by mirrors in our house and turn my head. I worried about how my mouth looked."

The Trumpers were dirt poor, but darned proud of the hope they shared for college graduations and big backyards. When Mrs. Trumper was forced to sell the house in St. Paul, she moved the family to a nearby apartment. They relied on hand-me-downs, daily pancake dinners and each other.

Nothing was more important than the latter because their 40-year-old father, a veteran of World War II, had died of an apparent heart attack when Mark was 5 years old. Mrs. Trumper was pregnant with their seventh child at the time.

Trumper recalls all of this from his office suite in Edmonds, Wash., where he's CEO of Maverick Label, a distribution/manufacturing firm that offers on-demand digital labels. When he mentions how his 16 cavities were fixed, thanks to a $12-a-month payment plan he began at age 15, he does so with appreciation instead of anger. When he mentions items his family couldn't afford, he doesn't glance away. He speaks with his chin up.

"Our childhood brought my family closer," Trumper says. "My mother was the definition of commitment. Her love was unquestionable, unselfish and unbelievable." He closes his eyes for a second, sighs and places his hands on his desk, almost touching a lineup of business cards. One says CEO of Maverick Label. Another says Advisory Board of Seattle Venture Group LLC. Another says Director of The Bank of Washington. Another says CEO of Club-Valet. They all say Mark Trumper. (Club-Valet is a service for golfers who lose their clubs.)

"To be where I am today is pretty mind-numbing," Trumper says. "My goal was not to be wealthy. It was just to never be poor. There are some mornings when I wake up, think about where I came from and just pinch myself."

One such morning could be Oct. 10, the day he begins his term as PSDA's 2001-2002 president. He will officially take the helm at the association's Informservices 2001 Conference & Expo (i2001) in Philadelphia.

The Taste of Success
Edmonds, Wash., is Mayberry with better seafood. It's a northern suburb of Seattle, a quaint fishing town on the banks of Puget Sound, which cuts through Washington state like the Chesapeake Bay cuts through Maryland and Virginia. A local magazine has named Edmonds the best place to live in the Puget Sound region for 14 straight years. The town has more arbor than asphalt, and its residents relish small pleasures—the fountain in the middle of Fifth Avenue, the hardware store that opened in 1944, the popular ferry that travels west to the Olympic Peninsula.

Quite literally, Trumper lives and works in a corner of the United States. When the wind blows south, he can smell Canada. This morning, though, he wants to smell a latté. He leaves his office, walks past the hardware store and enters Tully's, a coffeehouse franchise of approximately 185 stores that's rumored to be Bill Gates' favorite morning haunt. Trumper places his order and pays cash. "Paying ourselves, are we?" the cashier says with a smirk. Mark smiles and graciously nods. Then he says, "I kind of own this place."

"Kind of" means he doesn't own it all himself. He owns a stake in the business through Seattle Venture Group LLC, a firm he operates with a group of business partners. Trumper sips his latté and points outside toward The Bank of Washington. "I own that, too," he says. "The chain of them, I mean."

A few minutes later, Mark's wife Katie walks into Tully's with a friend from her tennis team. Katie is a tanned, attractive woman with a wide smile and a dry sense of humor. "Working hard today?" she asks her husband.

Trumper leans back in his chair and responds with a grin, "You know, when reincarnation kicks in and I come back, I want your life."

She laughs. "Well, I don't blame you!" she says. "My life is pretty darn good."

The Rise of an Entrepreneur
Trumper began his forms industry career in 1977 as a UARCO sales representative based in St. Paul. "I didn't know the difference between an invoice and a statement," he recalls. But he says he was attracted to the industry's repeatable business and the chance to solve customers' problems. "Most importantly," he says, "I could create long-term relationships."

At UARCO, Trumper was promoted to sales recruiter, then to assistant district manager, then to district manager. He relocated to Seattle in 1987. "I saw the direction UARCO was headed, and it wasn't the right one," he says. "They didn't understand product breadth, and they got hung up on big orders. I thought the future was in distribution." (Dayton, Ohio-based Standard Register Co. acquired UARCO in 1997.)

UARCO wanted Trumper to move to Atlanta and become its national general manger. He was working 80-hour weeks instead of spending time with Katie and his two young children, Allison and Matthew. "What really bothered me was that every person in the top tier of management was divorced," Trumper says. He left the company.

Trumper says he needed to be more of an entrepreneur. He was making a 6-figure salary at UARCO, but his goal was to own and operate his own firm. "Nothing was going to stop me," he says. "Failure wasn't an option. It really never crossed my mind."

With partner Bill Smith, who also had left UARCO, Trumper purchased the operations of a 1-man distributorship in Ballard, Wash., and launched FMC Resource Management Company. Trumper's monthly income immediately plummeted. "We watched our spending very closely," he says.

After six months, FMC moved to a 15,000-square-foot office in Bothell, Wash. During the next few years, the distributorship kept knocking down walls to add warehousing space. Its headquarters moved to nearby Monroe.

In 1994, paper-based forms accounted for 80 percent of FMC's sales. Trumper recognized the importance of technology, investing $200,000 in pick-and-pack software. By 1996, the firm had grown into a robust $26 million distributorship.

That year, St. Paul-based Merrill Corp. expressed interest in acquiring FMC as a wholly-owned subsidiary. Other companies also offered to buy the distributorship. "It might seem like Mark makes snap decisions," says Mark Thompson, vice president of business development at Maverick Label. "In reality, he just anticipates very well. When Merrill showed up, it was a scenario Mark had already processed in his brain. He's a calculated risk-taker who happens to calculate faster than everyone else."

The two sides agreed to an acquisition in 1996, and Trumper signed an agreement to serve as the subsidiary's CEO until June 2000. After Trumper sold FMC to Merrill, he admits, he could have stopped working. He's financially secure. Smith, his 43-year-old former partner who still co-owns two Merrill buildings with Trumper, retired from the document business and recently built a 7,000-square-foot house in Bend, Ore. Every once in a while, he calls Trumper from the top of a mountain or the back nine of a golf course. "I don't want to stop working," Trumper says. He knows his mother worked several part-time jobs to put food on the table. "I have a job that I love," he says. "It's no sacrifice to do what you love."

The Move to Digital Labels
In the mid-1990s, Rick Kent operated a video label business and discovered a way to print custom labels digitally. Last year, the self-proclaimed "computer geek" tried to convince Trumper, who belonged to the same gym, to lead a new firm that would offer on-demand digital labels online. "It took a little cajoling on the tennis court," Kent says. Trumper agreed, and the two men became equal partners in Maverick Label. Trumper is the company's CEO; Kent is its president.

"Mark has a knack for money and a nose for good business," Kent says. "His tremendous skill is working with people. His customers love him. His employees love him. Many of his former employees want to come work here."

Mark Thompson, Maverick Label's vice president of business development, says, "Getting involved in a new frontier is exciting, but that's not the draw to this job. The draw is Mark. He has the unique ability to turn a business plan into reality. When he called and explained what he was doing, I said, 'When do we start?'"

Thompson, who's based in Phoenix, creates high-level relationships with distributor and manufacturer partners interested in offering short run digital labels. "The hard part is to get people to understand we're not a typical label company," he says. "Once they do, the phone and internet orders don't stop coming." Thompson sends Maverick Label's partners an "alliance kit" that includes sales scripts, leave-behind fliers, on-hold telephone advertising copy, email promotion text, newsletter templates, sample press releases and statement stuffers. The company also offers online training for its partners.

"Alliances used to be sexy," Trumper says. "Now they're necessary." He calls Maverick Label a "dismane"-part distributorship, part manufacturer, part e-commerce supplier. His firm has partnerships across the board. "The key is adding value," he says. "The day you quit adding value is the day you can close your doors."

Scott McKiernan, Maverick Label's director of print services, worked as a production manager and graphics expert for three years at FMC. "There's not much that comes along that has the potential to revolutionize the industry," he says. "Mark's aggressive. When he knows what he wants, you hop on board and enjoy the ride."

Detail-oriented staff is important to Trumper because he's the big-picture guy, the strategic thinker who constantly considers ways to improve products and procedures. Trumper jots down business ideas on scraps of paper, tissues and backs of business cards. His two favorite words seem to be "what if." He knows what he has today, so talk to him about what he could have tomorrow.

"Mark's not a hand-holder," McKiernan says. "He gives you the tools and expects you to take the ball and run with it. He's most comfortable when he's thinking of ways to gain a competitive advantage."

Trumper's industry peers unanimously mention how kind-spirited he is, but he'll be the first to admit how much he thrives on winning. He's an intense competitor who expects the same from his employees. He enjoys sweating. More than that, he enjoys watching his competitors sweat.

That was easier for Trumper to do when he worked at UARCO, FMC and Merrill Corp. because competitors were clearly defined. "I tried to take every Moore and Standard Register account I could," he says. "It was like shooting fish in a barrel." But at Maverick Label, Trumper isn't sure where the next order will come from. And to his knowledge, no other firm offers the same technology.

Trumper says his "blood can boil" when preventable mistakes are made, and he occasionally hovers over employees until he hears a solution that satisfies him. He doesn't raise his voice often, but he can raise tension in a room when he's hovering. "Expectations are certainly high for myself and those around me," Trumper says. "We must make clients happy-that's rule No. 1."

Celadon, a San Rafael, Calif.-based designer and builder of custom transmitters and receivers, relies on Maverick Label when its customers need labels on short notice. "They've saved our necks several times," says Packy Coleman, Celadon's head of technical and customer support. "I've been very impressed by the effort they take to accomplish seemingly impossible tasks. And the quality is very high."

Trumper's goal is to grow Maverick Label into a $15 million company within three years. "My biggest fear is that things seem too good right now," he says. "I wonder what's around the corner that I don't know about. I wonder what's going to creep up and bite me."

Another Loss in the Family
In 1997, Kathy Trumper called her brother Mark on his car phone. "She said, 'You might want to pull over,'" he recalls. "She said, 'I just came back from the doctor for a routine blood test. They found a rare form of cancer. I have about six months left.'" It was a rare form of liver cancer, the same disease that would take the life of former Chicago Bears running back Walter Payton in 1999. "I just lost it," Mark says. "I just bawled. I couldn't move or think or breathe."

Kathy was divorced with three children ages 12, 13 and 14. She was a quiet, guarded person before the news, Mark says, but she did more during her last months than most people do in a lifetime. "She told me one day, 'I'm going to start living life now,'" he says. Mark and his brother Jeff sent Kathy to France and Disneyland, on a whitewater rafting trip, and to many other places.

"She knew she was never going to see her kids grow up," Mark says. His nose twitches, and he pauses. "She knew her kids would go back with the divorced husband. She had divorced him for a reason."

Kathy weighed 98 pounds the day she died. "She's in a better place," Mark says. In some ways, so is he. "Everything I went through with her cancer helped to change my outlook on life," he says. "I took it as a sign. One day she was perfectly healthy, and the next day she got a death warrant. It makes you think. I decided to start living life to its fullest. I decided to spend more time at home with my family. I learned about the word gratitude."

The View from Home
Trumper stands with a 9-iron in his backyard, and a golf ball sits in the grass. The scenery here is better than most 18-hole courses. To the left is a bird sanctuary that protects bald eagles. Straight ahead are railroad tracks and a beach. One hundred fifty yards away (it's low tide) is Puget Sound. To the right are the snow-capped mountain ranges of northern Washington and Canada.

"I have to get it over the tracks, or it could get ugly," Trumper says with a laugh. "If the ball hits the tracks, comes back and smacks the house, I'll have a hard time explaining that one to Katie." He swings, and the ball flies high and straight, plopping onto the beach. "Oh yeah!" he says. "That felt solid."

Behind Trumper is a waterfront home that's surrounded by a colorful mix of trees and flowering shrubs. The Trumpers moved here—their third home in Edmonds—in November 1999. A contractor needed nine months to finish placing brown shingles on the exterior. The kitchen is worth more than the house Trumper's mom sold in St. Paul.

Inside the home, signs of the family's closeness abound. The hallway near the living room is lined with wedding, baby and vacation photographs. Each summer for the past 15 years, the Trumpers have traveled four hours east to picturesque Lake Chelan for their family vacation. Matthew caught his first fish there, and a photo of his feat sits on a windowsill in Trumper's office.

The Trumpers beam when they talk about their kids, 17-year-old daughter Alison and 15-year-old son Matthew. "They're wonderful people who couldn't be more different," Katie says. Alison is a studious, hard-working prep-school senior with a 3.9 GPA. She plans to study law at Georgetown University, Duke University or Boston College next year. "We're going to miss her like crazy when she leaves," Katie says. Matthew is a lot like his dad. "He's a bit of a dreamer," she says. "He's the world's most gifted negotiator."

Trumper places another ball on the backyard lawn and grabs his 6-iron. He swings smoothly, hitting this ball straighter and longer than the first. He listens for a splash. "I think it made the water," he says. "There's one way to find out."

Trumper opens a gate that leads to the beach. He walks across the sand, rocks and shells that rest between the train tracks and Puget Sound. His pants are wet. "Low tide is a good time to retrieve these suckers," he says, placing three golf balls in a plastic bag. His fingers are green with algae.

Trumper looks toward the water. "The sunsets out here are amazing," he says. "I've learned to live with a glass half full. I take nothing for granted." He spots another golf ball and bends to pick it up. He says again, "Nothing for granted."

Gratitude
Trumper's glass is half full of merlot. He's sitting next to Katie at Anthony's Home Port, a seafood restaurant overlooking Puget Sound. Dinner is an important family time for the Trumpers, and this is the first one Mark and Katie have enjoyed together in a few days. Tonight's topic of conversation: son Matthew's ongoing antics.

Mark and Katie both say they married their best friend, and tonight they act more like buddies than lovers. They've bantered back and forth for 21 years, and each is adept at completing the other's thoughts:

"Did you hear where Matt went this afternoon?" Katie says.

"Where?" Mark asks.

"The zoo. Don't you find that to be a bit strange for a teenage male? Do you think—"

"Do I think he had a motive we don't know about? Probably. Kind of—"

"Kind of like his father. You guys are always up to something."

"True."

"Yesterday he found time to bid on a boat. How crazy is that? He actually took out a piece of paper and bid—"

"He bid 10 bucks, I know. I laughed when he told me. Where would we put a boat? We couldn't put it—"

"We couldn't put it anywhere, Mark. There will be no boat for us."

They leave the restaurant and get into their car. When Katie spotted him 21 years ago on the Tiburon Ferry in San Francisco, Trumper was wearing a green raincoat. He was excited about finally having his own bedroom. He wasn't far removed from daily pancake dinners. Tonight, he's wearing a green Polo shirt. He's excited about living in a house that overlooks Puget Sound. He's 10 minutes removed from seafood fettuccini.

The Trumpers drive home. They pass a row of boats to the right, but they aren't looking that way. Mark, as usual, is looking straight ahead. His chin is up. His chin will be up tomorrow and the next day and during the Thanksgiving season, three years after Kathy died. His chin will be up next year, when Alison leaves for college.

None of the boats to the right matter to the Trumpers. But one of them—the smallest one in the row, the one partially stained from green algae—has a fitting name: Gratitude.

Darin Painter is managing editor of Print Solutions. Email him your comments at dpainter@PSDA.org.