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Warren Hellman, the billionaire who loved bluegrass and giving away his money, would have been pleased with his memorial service Wednesday afternoon, which included plenty of jokes, music and a few lines from one of his favorite Monty Python songs.

“I think it was a good mixture of tears and laughter,” said his daughter, Dr. Tricia Hellman Gibbs.

A crowd of about 1,500 attendees came to pay their respects, some lining up hours ahead of time to get a seat inside Congregation Emanu-El in San Francisco.

“I’m a huge bluegrass fan, and he’s a hero to us all,” Georgia Frakes of Berkeley said as she stood in the “public” line that snaked around the block. The “friends and family” line was just as long. “I figured saying goodbye to him was worth taking a personal day off work. I hope there will be music!”

Indeed, the two-hour memorial service featured live performances by country great Emmylou Harris, Hellman’s band The Wronglers, and even Hellman’s 12 grandchildren, as well as tributes from a variety of Hellman friends — from senators to cowboys — all of whom adored the late financier, philanthropist and founder of the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival. Hellman, who was also the founder and chairman of The Bay Citizen, died Sunday at age 77 from complications of treatment for leukemia.

Outside the synagogue, members of the San Francisco Police Department’s mounted patrol stood in formation, a gesture of respect for Hellman’s generous support for the department’s horse stables, the Police Athletic League and other causes. San Francisco police Chief Greg Suhr, who attended the service in uniform, said of Hellman, “There was not a cause, whether children, horses or other needs, that he would not help out with. He would always have time to take for me. And I wasn’t always the chief of police.”

Rep. Nancy Pelosi (D- San Francisco), when asked to reflect on Hellman’s life, was silent for several moments. “It’s hard,” she finally said. “I had the privilege of memorializing him on the floor of the House yesterday. He was a great friend. He was a great American. He was a real Renaissance man, and a man of the future. We’ll all miss him very, very much.”

Rabbi Sydney Mintz opened the service, which followed a private burial in Colma Wednesday morning, by saying the congregation had “a difficult afternoon before us.” Yet the tone of most of the tributes was light and upbeat; more than once, uproarious laughter filled the sanctuary. During her eloquent tribute, Sen. Dianne Feinstein misspoke, extolling Hellman’s “zest for women.” As the congregation roared, she regrouped. “Correction: a zest for winning,” she said.

Feinstein noted that Hellman and her husband, Richard Blum, had known each other since they were both in military school in San Rafael. “They called it reform school,” she said dryly. “But clearly the ‘reform’ never took hold.” She concluded by saying that San Francisco is “much finer today because of Warren Hellman’s commitment.”

Arthur Rock, the famed venture capitalist and one of Hellman’s closest friends, said one thing that set Hellman apart was “his ability to laugh at himself. His jokes are legend — good, bad, indifferent or risqué.” Rock choked when he said, “He was my best friend. Oh, how I will miss him.”

Philip Hammarskjold, the CEO of Hellman & Friedman, the private equity firm that Hellman founded in 1984, spoke about Hellman’s work ethic and company policies — not all of which had to do with high finance. “He made a trip around the office every night, just to check in with people. He had a special relationship with the support staff. He was also the enforcer of our very strict ‘no jerks’ policy.”

After listening to Hellman’s business colleagues, attendees heard about another aspect of his life, far from the board room. Bluegrass musician and rancher Ron Thomason shared a story about horseback riding with Hellman. “I accepted an invitation to go for a casual ride with him, which turned out to be a 40-mile ride,” he said. “We rode like the wind. When we got back, he told me, ‘I’ll wash both the horses if you play the mandolin for me.’”

Thomason’s voice quavered with emotion. “My god, that man loved music.”

He said Hellman regularly poked self-deprecating fun at the differences in their backgrounds. After Thomason told him he was born in a home with no electricity, Hellman thought for a minute. “Then he joked, ‘Do you know that when I was young the cook sometimes wouldn’t make brownies for three days?’”

Despite his privilege, Thomason said, “I don’t think I ever heard him talk down to anyone. He respected the disenfranchised and wanted to bring them along.”