On Friday night, May 31, 2008, I had one of the toughest and most memorable assignments of my career.

I emceed Southwest Airlines’ official retirement bash for Herb Kelleher and Colleen Barrett — a black-tie fundraiser for the Frontiers of Flight Museum.

That meant prying 1,200-plus partygoers away from free-flowing bars, including one corner called Herb's Wild Turkey Lounge, Kelleher's adult beverage of choice.

From the stage, I pleaded for decorum to a raucous throng who clearly had no intention of being decorous.

At one point, I shouted to then-Gov. Rick Perry, who was in the middle of a camera-lit interview in front of the stage, to shut up and sit down.

He good-naturedly waved to me and complied, as did the rest of the reluctant crowd, eventually.

Ironically, the honorary chair of the dinner was aerobics guru Kenneth Cooper.

Fact is, Dallas hard-nosed fitness cop adored his nonconformist friend.

It was a informal formal affair that raised $740,000 for the museum in one night.

My moment of glory gave me the opportunity to tell one of my favorite Herb and Colleen stories.

Years ago, when Herb moved from San Antonio and was building a condominium here, he decided he didn't need to waste space on a kitchen since he ate out so much and never cooked.

Colleen, always the diplomatic pragmatist, told Herb that while she understood his lack of enthusiasm for a culinary center, the next owner would undoubtedly want one.

He built a kitchen, but it was still virginal when he sold the townhouse.

As the Beatles cover band, A Hard Night's Day, began to play and the dance floor filled, I got my easiest assignment of the night: announcing that Herb's Wild Turkey Lounge had reopened.

Herb who?

I was asked to emcee their retirement party because I had known Herb and Colleen since I was a cub business reporter for The Dallas Morning News, when he was "Herb who?" and she was his secretary.

I went to San Antonio in the early ’70s to interview this relatively unknown attorney who’d been spearheading the upstart airlines' formidable legal and regulatory battles.

Southwest's early history was as much about legal warfare as airfares — its siege starting years before the fledgling could even take to the air.

Later on, Herb’s legal prowess was eclipsed by his affable and gregarious personae that included a spot-on Elvis impersonation and his delight in wearing flowered Hawaiian shirts to stuffy business meetings.

But at the time, most people thought that the equally iconoclastic Lamar Muse had founded Southwest and couldn’t have picked Herb out of a police lineup.

My story “introduced” Herb Kelleher to them.

I used to kid Herb that I’d made him the media darling that he became.

I never got to see it, but Herb told me that he framed my story and hung it on his wall in his San Antonio office. That always tickled me, even though I knew he was a world-class packrat of memorabilia.

Talking Wild Turkey

In 2010, I wrangled Herb into flying to Phoenix to speak at the annual meeting of SABEW, the national professional business journalism association. His speaker’s fee was a bottle of Wild Turkey.

I bought two just in case.

Good thing.

He brought both bottles to the post-banquet hospitality suite, where Herb enthralled some of the nation’s hardest-to-impress reporters and editors with tales of Washington battles, political intrigue and personal foibles.

I left the merry gathering at midnight with Herb still holding court. I was told that the festivities didn’t break up until the wee hours.

It’s important to note that I never, ever saw Herb showing any signs of inebriation.

At the time, Southwest wasn’t flying to Phoenix, and by chance, early the next morning we ran into each other at the same American Airlines gate.

You would have thought from the fawning reaction of the gate agents that they worked for Southwest — they were calling him Herbie with hugs all around.

This came in handy when Herb was in line to get on the plane but couldn’t find his boarding pass.

No problem.

His serious side

When Michael Hinojosa left his Dallas Independent School District superintendent in 2011 (before later returning) , I suggested that North Texas' largest school district needed a leader with vision, charisma, accountability and trustworthiness — not just another administrator.

I thought Herb fit the bill and asked him about it for a column.

“Are you out of your mind?" said Kelleher, who’d just turned 80. "I would be a great role model for the children, I think," he added facetiously.

Yes, he would have been.

When it came to public education, Herb Kelleher was dead serious.

"I read an article some years ago rating public high schools in Texas. It stuck in my mind forever,” he told me. “There were a number of poor rural communities that had the best high schools. It wasn't money. It was leadership and an intense interest on the part of the parents to make sure that their kids got a good education."

Going Southwest's way

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been told by people in interviews that they want to be the Southwest Airlines of their industries. By that, they mean creating a people-centric culture where business and pleasure result in financial success.

David Childs, former Dallas County tax assessor-collector, was among those who wanted to emulate Herb.

His goal was to make the tax office the Southwest Airlines and Walt Disney Co. of government.

He asked if I could make an introduction.

Herb stepped to the plate — literally.

He and Colleen hosted Childs and his wife, my husband, John, and me at Pappas Bros. Steakhouse.

Herb had an uncanny way of deflecting attention to others in his presence.

You would have thought that meeting David Childs had been on Herb’s bucket list for years.

Vickie Shuler, who has been Herb and Colleen’s gatekeeper for 27 years, once told me that Herb took managing while walking around to Olympic heights. When he was CEO, she had moles placed throughout Love Field HQ so that she could keep constant tabs on his whereabouts.

“He was magical,” she told me Friday. “I will miss him every minute of my life. His laughter. His twinkle in his eyes.”

Southwest Airlines founder Herb Kelleher and former American Airlines CEO Bob Crandall. (DMN file/NATALIE CAUDILL)

Herb and Bob

If I had to pick one word to describe Herb Kelleher, it would be irrepressible.

A lot of people are called larger than life after they die. Herb truly was.

As soon as his death was confirmed, I called retired American Airlines CEO Bob Crandall, his longtime buddy and competitive nemesis, at his home in Florida.

I left a message on his machine saying that there would be a parade of people who would want to be quoted in Herb’s obituary, but Bob’s thoughts would be among those that Herb would want people to read.

My voice cracked as I left the message.

Bob called me back in a matter of minutes.

“Well, kid, all good things have to come to an end,” he said, meant to console me and not for publication. “We’re all going to drop dead one day. But he was a great guy.”

Then he gave me a wonderful quote:

“I think we will look back on Herb Kelleher as an example of the kind of people who ought to be our leaders. He was a man of great imagination. He was a man of diligence. He paid careful attention to the details.

“He didn’t lie. He didn’t cheat. He didn’t steal. He treated his people well. He delivered a good product. And he did it all with integrity.”

Amen to that.