Richard Fryburg, 24, began designing a new type of underwater inflatable flotation bag following a thwarted two-summer attempt to raise a sunken tugboat from the bottom of Narragansett Bay. After experimenting with cumbersome steel tanks, he finally fell upon the idea of using scrap rubber. Now his two-year-old company, Subsalve Industries, Inc. of Providence, R.I., supplies the Navy, Coast Guard and world with synthetic flotation devices that, when strapped to a submerged object and inflated with air from the surface, can raise anything from a ship to an airplane. By July Fryburg expects sales to pass the $1 million mark—not bad for an original investment of $1,000. Richard, a native of Worcester, Mass., began snorkeling at age 12, and during his high school years lived on his family's 40-foot cabin cruiser. After graduating from Long Island's Southampton College with a marine geology degree, he is now enrolled in the MBA program at Bryant College in Smithfield, R.I. (His father is a business consultant.) Fryburg saved enough money to buy his own 32-foot pleasure boat—only to have it sink when he was trying to salvage the tug. Now, with orders coming in from Singapore, Saudi Arabia and the North Sea, Fryburg predicts that Subsalve could eventually gross $100 million annually. "We're in a very comfortable position," he smiles, "with very limited competition."
Honey Haskin looks and acts like your average 23-year-old California girl. But put her in Spain and into a suit of lights and she becomes—Olé!—Ana de Los Angeles, one of a dozen women bullfighters in all España and the only American. "I'm really not sure how I got into it," shrugs Honey, whose architect father and writer mother are divorced. Honey saw her first bullfight at age 10, but did not pick up a matador's cape until after high school, when she went to live with her mother in Mexico. Honey spent a battering one-year apprenticeship before entering the ring for her first official fight at age 18. During four seasons in Spain she fought 60 times, walking away with 52 ears and 17 tails—not bad for what she describes as "the high minor leagues." There have, however, been other trophies: five stitches in her left leg, another five in the head and countless bruises. "Of course you're scared," she allows. "But that's part of the beauty." She hopes eventually to move up in class, taking on the more mature five-year-old bulls—the test for the big time that ultimately could earn her up to $15,000 a fight. "But it's an art," she explains. The bull, she adds, "is your best friend. Unfortunately he has to die."