Charles Peter Lucania

Man With a Beach Bug
On weekends, the gang gravitated to Charles Lucania's small but serene bungalow just a block off the surf at Atlantic Beach. His friends turned up with burgers for the barbecue. His nephews turned up with toys and bathing suits. Someone usually brought a backgammon board, not that Mr. Lucania, 34, ever sat still long enough to play.

But accompanied by Jake and Sugar, two playful pit bulls raised to be lovers, not fighters, he was always primed to play host.

He liked having people around; maybe that's why 2,000 turned up on Oct. 13 at St. Luke's Church in Whitestone to say goodbye at a memorial service. His mother received the last of her daily phone calls from him on Sept. 11: Mr. Lucania, a union electrician two weeks into a job for PE Stone Electrical on the 98th floor of the south tower, told her something was amiss at the north tower, and promised to high-tail it to street level.

He bought his beach pad in 1997, gutted it, rebuilt, and planned further renovations for next year. Unless he was at work or at a Rangers game, he was probably home, where an open-door policy prevailed.

And it was not just his two young nephews who continually shouted "Let's go to Uncle Charlie's house!" Not long after Mr. Lucania moved to the shore, several buddies caught the beach bug and followed suit. "If there's one thing that gives me peace, it's knowing he didn't want for anything," said his sister, Joann. "He was living the life. He had his friends nearby. A big smile, a kiss, and a warm embrace: that was him. Always happy."