MICHAEL CHERKASKY
Former chief of investigations in the Manhattan D.A.'s office

I was his boss in the D.A.'s office. The first day he came to work, there were 100 reporters outside. A paralegal who was making $15,000 a year was offered $10,000 to take a picture of John at his desk. In the elevator, cops would ask for his autograph. He'd work quietly all day, and then we would see him at night on television giving an address at the Kennedy Center. His first year, he was assigned intake duty. Citizens would come in with a complaint, and John's job was to interview them. It was funny to see the way they'd react. Having this legend sit down and scribble down your complaint has got to be a little strange.

PAUL SHECHTMAN
Former counsel to the Manhattan D.A.

That first day, Mike Pearl called from the Post and said he knew the whole first class had gone to lunch at a Chinese restaurant, and could I tell him what John F. Kennedy Jr. had for lunch. And I said, "The whole idea is to let him settle in and give him privacy." And he said he understood perfectly. And the next day I read in the Post that John F. Kennedy Jr. had mu-shu pork for lunch. I called Mike and said, "Why did you write 'mu-shu pork'?" And Mike's response was "That's what I would've had for lunch." It gave me in one short day some sense of what it must be like to be John F. Kennedy Jr.

OWEN B. CARRAGHER JR.
JFK's officemate for two years in the Manhattan D.A.'s office

We were on top of each other. Our desks were four feet apart. You couldn't help but be constantly interacting. We were two Irishmen who like to argue a lot -- in a good-natured way, though sometimes it could get pretty heated. It would be about movies or bands or clubs. We argued about Leona Helmsley's being prosecuted by the Feds. We argued about whatever was in the news. Sometimes we'd disagree on purpose just to have something to talk about. He'd say I'm some crazy right-wing Republican, and I'd call him a bleeding-heart liberal. At my wedding, my aunt from Ireland came up to me and said, "I've been very good, but I can't take it any longer. Would you please introduce me to John?" So I went up to him, and he didn't even wait. He said, "Tell me where she is," and went right over. He talked to her the way one of my best friends from college would have talked to her. She talks about it to this day.

ED KOCH

When he failed his bar exam, I wrote him a note. I told him, "Don't feel badly. I failed my bar exam, too, and it didn't stop me from becoming mayor." He wrote back: "It was very kind what you wrote, but I'm still going to have a lousy summer."

JILL KONVISER
Former Manhattan assistant district attorney

We started on the same day. We were both fish out of water. We had adjoining offices, and I sat about a foot and a half from him. Every two weeks, he and I would get assigned to what's called the complaint room, where people who got arrested would meet with prosecutors. This place was the great equalizer, a dungeon where you would be working through the night. It's three o'clock in the morning and you haven't eaten and you are exhausted. You are getting paid $35,000. It doesn't matter if you're John Kennedy or Jill Konviser or anybody else. You're wrecked. And I think John appreciated that. Everywhere else he was the son of a president. Here it was disgusting, it was filthy. You had to steal a chair if you wanted to sit down. You are sitting there interviewing a defendant who is handcuffed to a chair. And it stinks, and people scream at you. We all complained; he never did.

VENARD GARVIN
Convicted of drug possession in 1992 and sentenced to two to six years; his prosecutor was John Kennedy

I talked to him in the courtroom. Even though his job was to put me away, I liked the guy. It was something seeing him -- I'll never forget it. My lawyer said, "We might have a chance. He flunked his test twice." I remember the judge saying, "Everybody is staring at this man, a famous man, a Kennedy. But this is my court. I'm the boss." It was something. At the recess, I spoke to him. I remember I said, "It's the job -- it's not you." Even though he was a D.A., he didn't have the killing instinct.