SAN FRANCISCO — His last morning began like a television sitcom, something out of "Make Room for Daddy."

One by one, three of George Moscone's children bounded down the stairs on their way to school, each with a different request.

Christopher, 16, wanted money for his class ring. Jonathan, 14, had been arguing with his dad all week and just wanted to make it out the door. Rebecca, 18, needed a check to register at UC Berkeley.

"For some reason, I thought he'd just pull out his checkbook," she recalls. "And he said, 'What do you think, I'm made of money? You have to tell me ahead of time.' He was yelling and so, of course, I yelled back.

"But as I was leaving, he said he loved me, and I said that I loved him, too. When I heard what happened later, I was so happy I'd said that."

On Nov. 27, 1978, San Francisco Mayor George Moscone was gunned down at City Hall. The killer, a former member of the Board of Supervisors, also fatally shot Supervisor Harvey Milk.

In the years since, books, movies and plays have focused on Milk and Dan White, the assassin. But the Moscone family has declined to tell its story, mainly to protect its privacy. Now, on the 15th anniversary of their father's death, his children have decided to share their thoughts and feelings, to recall a man who influenced them deeply, to set the record straight.

On a recent weekend, they've gathered at a friend's home near San Francisco for an impromptu reunion. The three-hour conversation ranges from warm humor to somber memory, from childhood stories to vivid recollections of their dad's spirit.

Gina Moscone, the mayor's widow, can't participate because she's attending dedication ceremonies for a municipal arts complex downtown, near the Moscone Convention Center. With passing years, many San Franciscans remember the late mayor chiefly in relation to that center, an irony his children deplore. They want people to remember his human side.

"Like anyone who's gone through personal loss, you have two choices," says Jonathan, now 29 and associate director of the Dallas Theatre Center. "One is to stay where you are, to remain angry and hurt. Or you can have your catharsis and move on positively with life. That's what we've done as a family--to remember what's important and draw strength from it."