It would be nice to say that when Ron Smith smiled, the whole world smiled with him.

But it wasn't so. He had a mouthful of bad teeth – chipped, missing and rotted.

Though he was outgoing and charismatic, Smith's mouth told a different story.

For more than half of his 44 years, he was hooked on drugs and living on the streets. He panhandled until he had $20 each day for drugs. He stole from his own mother for drugs.

When he finally cleaned up and straightened out, his teeth made it hard for him to leave that world behind. No one would hire him or even trust someone who looked like that, he assumed.

"I was embarrassed to smile. I didn't go to job interviews," Smith said.

Then came his lucky break: An Elk Grove dentist wanted to give back without going through all the red tape of welfare-style dental care.

Jim Aubrey agreed to participate in a new county program to help formerly homeless people with their teeth. Of the 400 dentists in the Sacramento area who received a letter, only one other agreed to get involved with a new dental program run by Sacramento County Department of Health and Human Services.

When Smith arrived at Aubrey's practice in Elk Grove, the dentist decided to go beyond a quick fix. The work would take six months and, it turns out, be worth $32,000 in billing time and materials.

"He's a clever and funny guy. You could tell he was so far along," Aubrey said. "The potential was there to be an outstanding citizen."

Over the next six months, Aubrey performed three root canals and installed porcelain crowns and bridges on 22 of 28 teeth.

"He neglected his teeth for so long that he didn't even know how much pain he was in," Aubrey said.

The result? Smith landed a job at a hotel, is going to school to be a drug counselor and won back the woman who divorced him eight years ago. They were remarried on Aug. 8 and honeymooned in Hawaii.

The man who spent years living on the streets of Sacramento, or sleeping next to the garbage cans at his mother's Foothill Farms home, now lives comfortably in Elk Grove with his wife and two sons, ages 12 and 10.

"What Dr. Aubrey has done is miraculous," said Smith's wife, Sherryl Heningburg, a metering analyst with California's Independent System Operator, which runs much of California's electric grid. "By nature, he's outgoing and he talks and he laughs. But an employer would say, 'We can't present that to our customers, because he has no teeth.' "

The dental work was the final step in Smith's long journey back to respectability. He tried and failed twice at drug rehab until he arrived at Union Gospel Mission, a faith-based program that treats and houses 24 men at a time. It was July 11, 2005.

"That's when I said enough is enough," Smith said, shaking his head.

By then, he was living on $206 a month in general assistance and $149 in food stamps, which he often sold discounted on the black market.

"Three years ago, Ron was pushing a shopping cart down the street with everything he owns in there," said Tim Lane, director of Union Gospel Mission. "By the time Ron came to us, he looked terrible. He was gaunt and had that ashen look to his face."

Regarding Smith's improved teeth, Lane said, "It was incredible. Right or wrong, we form opinions of people based on a first impression. Having damaged teeth truly holds back someone like Ron, who is geared to moving up in the world."

Smith's mother, Barbara Wilson, 66, said her son went astray in high school. In short order, he was doing drugs, stealing and getting arrested. By 22, he was doing crack.

It owned me," Smith said. "I would do anything for it."

"He was out there wasting his talents," said his mother. "He could have had anything he wanted."

He stole from her, including a set of silverware given to her as a wedding gift. He emptied his wife's bank accounts. She took the kids and left.

All that seems so long ago. Smith knew his fixed teeth were crucial to moving forward. That's why he made sure to keep all 30 appointments.

And what does Smith see these days when he looks in the mirror? "A new Ron, a new life, a new future – hope," he said, smiling broadly.

Call The Bee's Blair Anthony Robertson, (916) 321-1099.