Houstonians pay tribute the doctor who felt like their dad, Dr. James 'Red' Duke Jr.

They all had stories, reasons to give up a hunk of their Saturday to pay their last respects to iconic trauma doctor James "Red" Duke Jr.

"I got to know Dr. Duke because he saved my life," said businessman Randy Garbs, one of many medical miracles who spent time at George H. Lewis & Sons over the weekend. "I was in the hospital for three months, almost 100 days. Dr. Duke visited me every night."

Often Duke came bearing Italian food.

"You need calories," Duke would tell him. "You'll like this lasagna."

The surgeon, 86, died Tuesday of natural causes. In a city full of doctors who have made medical history, Duke joined those exalted ranks by establishing a level 1 trauma center at Memorial Hermann Hospital in the Texas Medical Center and the helicopter ambulance service known Life Flight. About a decade before that, he helped save the life of then-Gov. John Connally, who was wounded the day President John F. Kennedy was assassinated.

Mourners at the funeral home delighted in describing Duke's exceptional surgical skills and his offbeat character. He spoke with an exquisite Texas twang, had the lanky figure and wardrobe of a cowboy from the Wild West, and actually lived at the hospital with his black-and-gray dog, Jake. In addition, in mid-life he passed out common-sense life advice on national television and later, on 3X5 index cards.

At the public viewing, visitors were invited to pick up an index card similar to the ones Duke used to keep in his shirt pocket and hand out to staff and patients.

No. 1 was, "Eat vegetables and lean meat." No. 4 was, "Wear a helmet." No. 6 was, "Always be considerate of others and what their station may be."

Glen Bilderback, 56, picked up an index card, of course. "Everybody in Houston loved Dr. Duke; he was like having another dad."

Alice Johnson, 64, was friends with Duke for more than three decades, though she held clerical and catering positions at Memorial Hermann while he was a hotshot surgeon.

Duke didn't put himself on a pedestal, Johnson said. "He knew everybody, including the housekeeping staff. And everybody was the same to him; he wasn't above anybody. He used to call me Miss A., and he said I was the hardest-working woman he ever saw."

She considered that a beautiful compliment, knowing first-hand how hard he worked.

Sam Rodriguez, 49, used to work with the Life Flight team, and he remembered Duke telling them that it was a privilege to take care of patients.

Rodriguez also remembered that Duke lived in the hospital, which was why it seemed Duke was ready to operate, night or day, seven days a week.

Duke commonly told hospital staff not to work all the time, but that may have been the single piece of his homespun advice that he had the hardest time following.

Garbs, the lasagna lover, said he met Duke after he bought a mid-life motorcycle and hit a sharp corner of guard rail while taking it out for a practice spin.

"My insides were suddenly outside," Garbs said. "I was taken by Life Flight to Memorial Hermann."

Thirty-six operations later, he and Duke were best friends.

"We never discussed my condition," Garbs said. "Instead, we discussed life - art, music, hunting, fishing and theology. He was an ordained minister, and he loved the Lord."

Garbs said he would always thank Duke for all he did for him, but Duke wouldn't take credit. "He'd say, 'I didn't heal you. All I did was work on you. God healed you.' "

Duke will be buried in a private ceremony at Texas State Cemetery in Austin Sunday. Meanwhile, the public viewing will continue from 9 a.m. to 8 p.m. Sunday at George H. Lewis & Sons. A few of the items near and dear to Duke, including his white coat, boots and a picture of Jake, will be on display.