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Among the Thousands Missing: Snapshots of Their Lives
NY Times ^ | 11/1/01

Posted on 11/01/2001 10:13:05 AM PST by dead

Each day since September 15th, the NY Times has run a photo and brief blurb about some of the people missing from the World Trade Center. They say they will continue to do so, as long as they have photos and stories to tell. They’ll be running this feature for a long time.

All the tributes can be found at:

Here are today’s:

Food as the Music of Love

For all of Jay Magazine's achievements as a chef and then as catering sales manager of Windows on the World, his happiest moments were spent with his 13-year-old daughter, Melissa, and 10-year-old son, Andrew.

His wife, Susan, is convinced that her husband's desire to hold his children close sprang from the early loss of his parents.

Mr. Magazine, 48, was involved in every aspect of his children's lives, she said. Last spring, he watched Melissa ‹ playing with her school's team in the Junior Knicks program ‹ sink a layup in front of 19,000 people during halftime at a Knicks-Celtics game at Madison Square Garden. Mr. Magazine loved to cook with Andrew. Their specialty was hot salsa, a recipe that Andrew is now teaching his mother.

The couple would have celebrated their 19th wedding anniversary on Oct. 17.

"This year," Mrs. Magazine said, "Andrew, Melissa and I shared gifts, dined with my brother and Jay's sister, toasted a wonderful family life, and spent the evening looking at photos and celebrating our 19 years of happy marriage."

'Daddy Did This With Us'

Whenever Brendan McCabe went out to business dinners, he ordered an extra dessert, took it home to his wife, Terri, and shared it with her.

Some other images from Mr. McCabe's life: holding Jane, 10 months old, while walking around the house and calling her "my gorgeous, beautiful, wonderful girl," and playing baseball and football with his sons, ages 8, 6 and 4.

When Mr. McCabe got home every evening from his job as a vice president at Franklin Templeton, the boys would stop what they were doing and run to Daddy. Jane would crawl to him, and he would scoop her up.

On Sept. 10, Mr. McCabe, 40, took the day off and played in the pool with Connor, his youngest boy. Then he called for the older boys at school and bought them cleats for soccer. "Now my kids cry themselves to sleep," Mrs. McCabe said, "because they want their daddy. They say to me, Mom, remember Daddy did this with us, Daddy did that with us."

'Here's Lookin' at You, Kid'

After he folded an Internet company in San Diego last spring, Mukul K. Agarwala moved back east to be near his parents in Kendall Park, N.J., because they were in failing health. His sense of family extended to his friends' children, too. "He would call every month to ask for a new photo of our daughter, Riya," said Neeraj Mital, a friend since college.

Mr. Agarwala's widow, Rhea Stone, said that his sense of concern went even further. Not long after they met in Hong Kong in 1993, she said, he saw a newspaper article about a mistreated domestic worker who, like Mr. Agarwala's parents, had come from India. He went to the Indian diplomatic mission and paid her fare back home.

Ms. Stone said her husband's enthusiasms ranged from snowboarding to reading history to old movies. She could not remember how many times they had watched "Casablanca." On Sept. 11, Mr. Agarwala, 37, was in his second day as a research analyst on software for Fiduciary Trust.

His Daughters in White

While driving nearly two dawn-streaked hours from his home in Mantua, N.J., to 2 World Trade Center, where he was a managing director at Sandler O'Neill & Partners, John Rodak would plan his workday and get revved. After the markets closed, he would drive two hours back, letting go of work in the traffic and evening darkness. By the time he walked through the door again, arms open, he was completely ready for his wife and two daughters. He was there.

Mr. Rodak, 39, gravitated toward activities requiring a patient, meditative discipline. Years ago, he would hunt deer and duck. Later he took up golf, then karate, which he practiced with his 10-year-old, Chelsea. Finally it was deep-sea fishing, which he shared with Devon, 5. He came across as a man without worries, with plenty of time to chat with small children, buy drinks for strangers at a bar or, on that last weekend, to make dinner for his family.

For their 14th anniversary last year, Mr. Rodak gave his wife, Joyce, two crystal goblets. He also bought two sets to put aside for his daughters as a surprise on their wedding days. He chose a one-time pattern from Waterford's Millennium collection. It is called "Happiness."

A Hero's Life (and Death)

Legendary Vietnam warrior. Poet and quoter of Shakespeare and Proust. Criminal justice professor. Screenplay author.

Col. Richard C. Rescorla, the head of security for Morgan Stanley Dean Witter's individual investor group, was a big man who lived large and died a hero, barking out orders on a megaphone in a smoke-choked stairwell and personally seeing to it that Morgan Stanley lost only 6 of its 3,700 employees on Sept. 11.

Colonel Rescorla, 62, was carrying out the evacuation plan he had drawn up and repeatedly rehearsed after the 1993 bombing.

He grew up in England, joined the British Army, and moved here in 1963 to fight with the United States Army in Vietnam. He led a platoon through the notorious valley of Ia Drang, where more than 200 American soldiers died; a battlefield photo of him graces the cover of the 1992 best seller "We Were Soldiers Once . . . and Young."

At a gathering of Ia Drang veterans in 1992, Colonel Rescorla, who leaves a wife and two children in Morristown, N.J., described his vision of facing death:

"A man is dying down there in the valley, and what do you do? You hold him in your arms and you say to him ‹ it's all you can say to him ‹ you say: `You're not alone, son. You're not alone.' And he's gone."

Travels Led to Home

Kathleen A. Burns was born in Staten Island, where she lived with her parents for most of her life, in a nice home in a quiet, middle-class neighborhood.

If the upstairs light was on, Ms. Burns, 48, was probably reading a book. She never took work home. "Work was work and home was home," said her mother, Eunice.

Still, Ms. Burns climbed high in the corporate world, to the upper floors of the World Trade Center, where she was a vice president with the Fiduciary Trust International.

She was good to her parents, they said. The three watched television together in the evenings and the women went shopping. "She liked high-end things like Ann Taylor," her mother said.

Of course her life was more than work and home and shopping, her mother said. She had an interest in the wider world, and toured places like Egypt, Spain and Iceland.

Love Behind the Wheel

It was Saturday morning, and Cathy Faughnan was standing in the chilling wind beside a soccer field rooting for Juliet, her second child. Just a few weeks earlier, that had been the job of her husband, Christopher Faughnan.

They met as undergraduates at the University of Colorado, where he worked as a security guard and she as a lifeguard. One day, she held up a piece of paper to him that said, "Cute Butt."

He became a perfect dad. When Mr. Faughnan got home every weekday at 6:30 p.m. from his job as a trader at Cantor Fitzgerald, "he would get the kids all crazy," Mrs. Faughnan said.

"They would jump around him, laughing and kissing him."

He bought a minivan, and ferried the three children to art classes, gymnastic practice, ballet lessons and soccer games.

The children are Siena, 7, Juliet, 5, and Liam, 3. One night, Liam asked his mother why Daddy could not come back, but a few days later, he told her that his father was a hero. "I don't know where he got that," Mrs. Faughnan said. "And he told me: `Mommy, I will take care of you. Daddy doesn't want you to be sad.' "

Today would have been Mr. Faughnan's 38th birthday. After the trick-or-treating tonight, Mrs. Faughnan will ask the children to write their dad a message on a piece of paper, tie it to a balloon and let it fly.

Planner of Family Fun

Francis S. Riccardelli was the vertical transportation manager at the World Trade Center complex, the man in charge of all the elevators and escalators. He loved his job so much it scared his colleagues.

"One guy said, `I used to duck Francis all the time because he would come up with all these projects and they would always involve so much work,' " said his wife, Theresa Riccardelli.

At home in Westwood, N.J., with Theresa and their five children, though, Mr. Riccardelli, 40, had no problem enlisting volunteers. When he went to Home Depot, 5-year- old Genevieve would ride in the shopping cart and help pick out tools. When he was taking down a wall in their house, 3-year-old Zachary would bang away at it with his plastic hammer.

"He was always planning fun thing to fun thing," Mrs. Riccardelli said. "He'd get up Saturday morning and make pancakes. Friday was movie night ‹ we'd all pile into our bed with popcorn and watch a movie together. Saturday was game night."

Mr. Riccardelli had just bought a huge trailer and hoped the whole family would hike the Grand Canyon someday. "It was going to be the start of a new project," Mrs. Riccardelli said. `Exploring America."

Bonds: Financial and Family

Tom Burke was the quintessential Wall Street man.

He broke into the bond business this way: It was 1985 and he was fresh out of Holy Cross. Nobody wanted him. Undeterred, he put on his suit every day and attended training courses at Liberty Brokerage ‹ uninvited. Impressed, the company hired him after three months.

Eventually, Mr. Burke, 38, became a partner at Cantor Fitzgerald, heading the government bond desk. He lived with this wife and children in Bedford Hills, N.Y.

He had a big personality. He knew how to hold his drink and when to hold his cards. He was the kind of person you wanted to be seated next to at a dinner party.

That was the Wall Street man. There was also the private man.

"He was successful, but that's not what made him happiest," said his sister, Nancy Salter. "It was his family."

That was the part the young guns did not see, the part not learned in college. Tom Burke's mother always had a happy birthday. Tom Burke's family never wondered where Daddy was. Tom Burke's friends never lay sick, alone.

You Knew Where She Stood

It was her best trait and her worst: Diane Urban said what she thought, whether you wanted to hear it or not. The habit was so well known that a relative suggested at her memorial service that they all get T-shirts saying, "Diane Urban Told Me Off."

Sometimes the target of her sharp tongue was an underperforming subordinate at the New York State Department of Taxation, where she rose to No. 2 in the income tax division. Sometimes it was her superiors. Once, she told them she was sick of training accountants only to have them leave for better salaries. "If I wanted to be a teacher, I would have been one," she said.

Ms. Urban, 50 and divorced for more than 20 years, could also be tart with the men in her life. And she tested the patience of her sister, Terry Corio, who withdrew from their relationship for a few years, drained by Ms. Urban's truth-telling. "She never backed down," Mrs. Corio said. "She was a pistol."

But the sisters always loved each other, Mrs. Corio said, and reunited last year. Ms. Urban had recently realized her dream of buying a home on Long Island, not far from her sister and brother-in-law. The sisters had their nails done together, recently splurging an extra $5 to have tiny flowers painted on their wine-colored toes. They were looking forward to pizza and rented movies on Saturday nights this winter.

Nearing a Longtime Dream

Frank John Sadocha was weeks away from his dream of opening his own restaurant on Long Island. He was training people to take over for him as manager of the food services division of Cantor Fitzgerald when the World Trade Center was attacked.

"All he tried to do was to get us ahead," said his wife, Nancy. Mr. Sadocha, who lived in Huntington with his wife and two daughters, did the catering for a local temple on weekends and sometimes weeknights, in addition to his job in the city.

"He was very much in charge, and he knew catering so well," his wife said. But as hard as he worked, Mr. Sadocha, 41, always had time for his daughters, Ashley, 5, and Kristy, 4.

A few weeks ago, after they had enrolled the girls on soccer teams, Ashley said she didn't want to play, that she wasn't any good at soccer. Her father took her outside and worked with her.

"He boosted her confidence," Mrs. Sadocha said. "By the end of the weekend she said she couldn't wait to play, and she told me, `Daddy said I was good.' "

New York Adrenaline

Atsushi Shiratori was not a New Yorker by birth. But he was a New Yorker to the bone.

A trader of dollar/yen options at Cantor Fitzgerald and one of the firm's partners, Mr. Shiratori, 36, was addicted to the city. Sure, he was passionate about his job, and so obsessed with the stock market that he once spent a two-week vacation in a day- trading salon, buying and selling stocks.

But it was New York that really started his engines. Peter Douglas, a friend who sat with Mr. Shiratori on the trading desk a few years ago, said: "He loved, loved, loved New York. Everything about it. The pulse of it, the intensity, the energy. He loved looking sharp, having the style. Going out to dinner with friends, nights on the town. Sucking it in, 24 hours a day."

Magali Somers lived with Mr. Shiratori for the last three years. He recently helped her open a furniture restoration shop. "He had a huge social life and he would always live for the present," she said. "He would always enjoy the moment, and that's what impressed me about him the most."

Song of a Wayfarer

Because Americans rarely travel to Cuba, Scott Johnson had to go. He and his friend Steve Selwood spent five days in Havana in 1998, listening to music in one bar after another. Because he graduated with a minor in Jewish Studies from Trinity College in Hartford, he had to explore Egypt. There, Scott and his friends made their way into a pyramid off-limits to tourists.

And before a second jet crashed into 2 World Trade Center, where Mr. Johnson worked as an analyst for Keefe, Bruyette & Woods, he was making plans to visit South America next summer to explore a culture that fascinated him.

Mr. Johnson, 26, played golf with his father in Montclair, N.J., where he grew up, and cheered the Yankees from his couch. He was cherished for his quiet, firm sense of what was important: family, friends, knowledge and adventure.

For Eric Kusseluk, Mr. Johnson was the best friend who took calls at 3 a.m. when Mr. Kusseluk's mother was dying of cancer. For Mr. Johnson's father, Tom, he was the child devoid of any meanness. For friends who loved music as he did, he was a generous investor in a new live-music club in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.

The fire of his passions changed you, people said. His brother, Tom, is still reading the book he recommended a few months ago: a biography of Che Guevara. And Mr. Selwood is still hoping to take that trip to South America someday.

Greener Grass Was Here

Michael McHugh could have stayed in London. Cantor Fitzgerald had sent him there in January to open the firm's energy desk. It meant more ‹ possibly a lot more ‹ money and a new future, and his wife, Maria, was ready for it.

But Mr. McHugh, 35, the sales director of Cantor's TradeSpark division, had sunk his roots too deep in Tuckahoe, a village in Westchester County.

He started as an adjunct member of the village's planning board and quickly moved up to chairman. He loved the town because it was so pleasant and because of all the "normal, unpretentious people" who live there, Mrs. McHugh said.

So in April, Mr. McHugh returned, to Maria and the three kids and the fixer-upper they had bought before they thought they could afford to live in Tuckahoe. Mr. McHugh came back so that his son Michael would not have to change soccer teams and so that he himself could run for the county board of legislators. Now his widow is running in his place in Tuesday's election.

"I thought, `I really can't leave this hanging out,' " she said. "I have to finish it up. To complete a journey that we started."

TOPICS: News/Current Events
KEYWORDS: 911victims; missing; wtc

1 posted on 11/01/2001 10:13:05 AM PST by dead
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To: dead
Col. Richard C. Rescorla, the head of security for Morgan Stanley Dean Witter's individual investor group...

Thank you. One of ours.

2 posted on 11/01/2001 10:18:52 AM PST by BlessedBeGod
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To: dead
It is the little things that are remembered - it is the little things that break our hearts.
3 posted on 11/01/2001 10:20:16 AM PST by EllaMinnow
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To: dead
Such a sad loss for so many. We better get those bastards.
4 posted on 11/01/2001 10:22:34 AM PST by 1Old Pro
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To: BlessedBeGod
Did you see the excellent piece in Sunday's Washington Post about this great man? They should make a movie of his life.
5 posted on 11/01/2001 10:25:17 AM PST by motexva
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Sorry all. The photo links worked fine in preview, but not in the real world. It's even more heartbreaking when you put a face to the name.

Click on the link and read some of the other stories over there. It is a collection of people with the stunning variety of origins and personalities that could only be found in NYC.

6 posted on 11/01/2001 10:27:17 AM PST by dead
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To: dead
More about the life and death of Col. Rescorla. A Freeper must read.
7 posted on 11/01/2001 10:28:01 AM PST by motexva
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To: dead
Hopefully there will be a book with information on all the victims. I know I would buy one. It would help to put a human face on what happened. So many people died that it is hard to comprehend the people as individuals with lives and families. Never forget!
8 posted on 11/01/2001 10:37:12 AM PST by TheDon
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