Sami Chahrouri grew up in an impressive-looking house near Beirut, Lebanon, and drove a flashy red Alfa Romeo sports car that he parked in the driveway.

"Those beautiful stucco villas they have in Italy — his family's home was like that, with their own gardener and chauffeur," said his wife, Eileen Chahrouri, of Snellville.

Family (ENLARGE)

Sami Chahrouri, in a photo taken in the late 1950s in front of his family's home in Lebanon, loved this red Alfa Romeo and his dog Roger. He also loved America, and became a U.S. citizen.

But the most important part of the home, his wife discovered, was hidden from public view. It was the family chapel where she married Mr. Chahrouri in 1960.

"When you left the house, you went down some steps into the garden where they had their own Catholic chapel," she said. "It was a like a fairy tale."

After Mr. Chahrouri moved here with his family in the 1970s, he found a new spiritual home at St. Joseph Maronite Catholic Church in Inman Park, where he served as an usher for years.

"He loved to meet new people at church, and he especially liked reaching out to people coming into this country," his wife said. "And it didn't have to be just Lebanese people. He really embraced people who came here from any country."

The funeral Mass for Sami Najib Chahrouri is 11 a.m. today at St. Joseph Maronite Catholic Church. Mr. Chahrouri, 77, of Snellville died at Emory University Hospital Friday of complications from an earlier surgery. Eternal Hills Funeral Home is in charge of arrangements.

Mr. Chahrouri studied at the American University in Beirut, moved to the United States with his American wife in 1961 and became a U.S. citizen.

But he maintained an international air, his wife said, which came in handy when he worked for the prestigious Bachrach Photographers in Boston and Philadelphia.

"They photographed lots of diplomats and presidents, and he had that kind of European flair that you need to deal with people of that caliber," his wife said.

Mr. Chahrouri grew up in a Lebanon that was still under French mandate, his wife said, so "they had all the beautiful clothing and hair-dos, and Beirut was a beautiful city for tourists right on the Mediterranean."

He held onto some of his Continental manners, such as opening car doors for women, and he spoke French, Arabic, English and a little Spanish.

His ability to talk to anybody about anything helped bolster his long career at Metropolitan Life Insurance, from which he retired in the 1990s.

He played the violin and was passionate about all kinds of music, from classical works to Kenny Rogers and Julio Iglesias. He loved to dine at Petite Auberge and other fine restaurants around town and was a master at preparing tabbouleh, spinach pies and other Lebanese specialties.

Before 24-hour cable news, he would spend hours hunched over a short wave radio in his basement — desperate for news from Lebanon, where some of his family members were still in danger. That reality helped shape his political views.

"He happened to be a Republican, and he was a big Reagan fan," his wife said.

His sense of national pride extended to both America and Lebanon.

"He had his priorities in place," his wife said. "First of all, he was deeply faithful to his church and the Maronite tradition, and then he was very patriotic to both the United States and Lebanon. And his next priority was his family.

"So he had it straight — God, country and family. That was it with him, and he had them all lined up in the proper order."

Survivors other than his wife include two daughters, Katherine Chahrouri of Tuscaloosa, Ala., and Therese Gibbs of Jonesboro; two sons, David Chahrouri of Dallas, and John Chahrouri of Aragon; two sisters, Asma el Kahy of Beirut, Lebanon, and Wadad Nash of Malvern, England; and six grandchildren.