When I was 16 years old Pete Ganci was one of my heroes. He was a volunteer firefighter here in Farmingdale and I was a buff. A buff is someone who hangs around the firehouse. Pete and several of the other members let me in the firehouse, told me war stories and treated me as one of them. When a fire call would come in my friends and I would run to the scene and helped any way we could, packing hose or just cleaning up. Later I became a member as was my father and his father before him. By that time Pete had joined the ranks of the FDNY but was still active in the Farmingdale Fire Department. Pete was a great guy, a real Farmingdale guy and a terrific practical joker. Pete moved out of the Farmingdale area but always stayed in touch and retained his membership in the Benevolent Association in the Farmingdale Fire Department. We always enjoyed each other's company and he would often buff our fires even though he was on the job in the city. He would return to the area to settle down with his wife Kathy and raise their three children: Peter III, Christopher and Danielle. We would see each other at the kids' ball games and often sat together when Chris was playing football at Farmingdale High School. By the time I became chief at Farmingdale Pete was a battalion chief in the city. However, he would still show up anytime we had a fire of any magnitude. I asked him if he didn't get enough of this in the city and he replied, "Yeah, but there I'm a chief and here I can grab a hoseline or pull a ceiling and get back in the action." I had the first due engine carry extra gear for Pete, that way he could wear a plain black helmet and be just one of the guys. Of course, when Pete buffed my fires I never made him pack any hose. I was in Philadelphia on Sept. 11 when tragedy struck. As I watched the horror on TV I got an uneasy feeling in my stomach. I must know at least 50 people on the job in New York City. I had no idea how many of them were there, I knew eventually they all would be. But I knew Pete was there. When those buildings came down I thought to myself he had to be okay, that the command center would be far enough away. I knew that was not true, I knew that Pete would be close, close to his men, close enough to help people, close enough to direct operations and close enough to spit at the red devil. I got in touch with Mayor Trudden to let him know I would try to get home the next day and told him to call me with any news. At about 9 p.m. the call came, "Jack, I've got bad news." "It's Pete isn't it?" Joe (also a close friend of Pete's) just croaked out "Yes." It was my honor to carry Pete's casket from our firehouse to the pumper that took him to St. Kilian's where his New York City brothers carried him home. As we headed down Main Street my eyes welled with tears when I saw all the people saluting, crying and waving flags. I saw many who knew him and just as many who didn't but came anyway. I shouldn't have been surprised. This was Pete Ganci: husband, father, neighbor, NYFD legend, and even though I am long past 16 years of age, still my hero. Jack Scherer Ex-Chief Farmingdale Fire Department.

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