The tender and the tough

And relatives have all stepped up. Bucci's wife, Vickie, has gone full time, helping with the register from 5:45 a.m. His older sister, Carol Messick, whose father never allowed her to work there ("he thought it was a little too rough"), has taken Fridays off from her government job to make the hoagies and fries. Her husband, George, comes Fridays, too, to wrap sandwiches and keep things light: "I'm Mr. Big Mouth," he said.

The Messicks' daughters are also involved. Erika, 25, comes in for short working stay-overs ("to keep the peace") from her home in Massachusetts. Her sister, Bethany, though, has just transferred back from college in Maryland to be closer. She's working at John's full time all summer. She has already earned the nickname "Little Mum-Mum" for being what her sister called a Vonda-like "natural enforcer."

Bucci could hear his father's words channeling through him as he stood beside Bethany and taught her the rituals of the roast pork.

"And then she said to me, 'I want you to tell Mum-Mum that I know how to bone and season the porks,' " Bucci recalled. She told him, "I can do this. I don't want you to worry about this place."

"You know," said Bucci, "I see a lot of myself in her."

All done - for now

They appeared to be essentially identical, but Bucci swiftly judged their contours and set each one aside for a specific filling: skinny for the simple steak and onions, dark-crusted for the juicy pork, squat and wide for the Milano with sliced tomatoes.

"It's so much more than picking up any old roll," he said. "You got to pick up the right roll! Think! Think!"

He scooped the Milano from the grill in a single stroke and placed it gently in its roll.

A perfect fit.

"Now that is a bea-ut-i-ful sandwich. It really is," he said.

The hot smell of onions and seared meat still hung in the air as he pulled the luncheonette door closed behind him.

"I'm going to miss this intensely," he said, lingering as he locked the door. "I can't wait to make my next cheesesteak."