October 10, 1996 (Peter Gilstrap / Phoenix New Times) - It takes a certain brand of optimism and foresight to make a small-market concept work, a certain drive and, of course, the essential ability to recognize a need and fill it. Before a savvy, upward mover even begins to address such concepts as outsourcing, retrenchment and severe lower-pricing to shed high-cost capacity, he must be able to pick the right product at the right moment. Such a man is Rod Jakubik. His product is fangs.

That night a brilliant crowd had gathered in Reginald Clarke's house. From the studio and the adjoining salon arose a continual murmur of well-tuned voices. On bare white throats jewels shone as if in each a soul were imprisoned, and voluptuously rustled the silk that clung to the fair slim forms of its bearers in an undulating caress.

What wonderfully different impressions and feelings, with regard to the same circumstances, come across the mind in the broad, clear, and beautiful light of day to what haunt the imagination, and often render the judgment almost incapable of action, when the heavy shadow of night is upon all things.

"I am so happy you came," Reginald Clarke said, as he conducted Ernest into his studio. It was a large, luxuriously furnished room overlooking the Hudson and Riverside Drive.

Dazzled and bewildered, the boy's eyes wandered from object to object, from picture to statue. Despite seemingly incongruous details, the whole arrangement possessed style and distinction.