Honestly, if you only know him as "Bill Gates’ dad," you’re missing the most interesting parts of the story.
William Henry Gates Sr was never just a footnote in a billionaire’s biography. He was a 6-foot-7 powerhouse of a man who basically built the blueprint for modern Seattle and, later, the world's most influential charity. While the world focused on the software revolution happening in a garage, "Big Bill"—as his friends called him—was busy being the adult in the room for an entire city.
He didn't grow up with a silver spoon. Far from it. Born in 1925 in Bremerton, Washington, his dad ran a local furniture store. It was a middle-class, salt-of-the-earth upbringing. He went to public schools, did the Boy Scouts thing (becoming an Eagle Scout, naturally), and then headed off to World War II. When he came back, he used the G.I. Bill to get through the University of Washington.
That’s where things really started.
The Lawyer Who Scaled Seattle
Most people don't realize that William Henry Gates Sr was one of the most formidable legal minds in the Pacific Northwest long before Microsoft was a glimmer in his son’s eye.
He co-founded a firm called Shidler McBroom & Gates in 1964. You might know it today as K&L Gates, one of the biggest law firms on the planet. He wasn't just pushing paper; he was a fixer. When Howard Schultz was trying to buy a little coffee company called Starbucks in 1987 and hit a massive roadblock with investors, it was Gates Sr who stepped in. He basically told the opposing side to back off and let the kid build his dream.
He had this way of "showing up"—a phrase he eventually used for the title of his book—that commanded respect without him ever having to raise his voice. He served as president of both the Seattle/King County and the Washington State Bar Associations.
But it wasn't all corporate maneuvering.
One of the most overlooked parts of his legal legacy is his push for diversity. Back in the 1970s, when the legal world was almost exclusively white and male, he pushed the bar association to create scholarships for underrepresented minority students. He saw the inequity early. He knew the system was rigged and tried to nudge it toward fairness.
Why the Gates Foundation Almost Didn't Happen
Here is a bit of trivia that kills at dinner parties: The Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation exists because Bill Gates Jr was tired of getting mail.
Basically, by the mid-90s, the younger Gates was the richest man in the world. People were hammering him with requests for money. Boxes and boxes of letters. Bill Jr was focused on Windows; he didn't have the bandwidth to run a global charity.
During a movie outing, Gates Sr suggested he could help out. He told his son he could look through the requests and manage the flow.
💡 You might also like: Cincinnati Sales Tax: What Most People Get Wrong
"I'll just take the boxes home," he basically said.
That "small favor" turned into the William H. Gates Foundation in 1994. It started in his basement. He was the one writing the checks. He was the one researching vaccine distributions and reproductive health. When it eventually merged to become the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation in 2000, he stayed on as co-chair.
He was the "North Star" of the organization. While the tech-minded younger generation looked at data and spreadsheets, Big Bill looked at the human element. He was the one who insisted that all lives have equal value. That wasn't just a catchy tagline for him; it was a deeply held belief forged during the Great Depression.
The "Death Tax" and the Millionaire Rebellion
If you want to see how much William Henry Gates Sr cared about social equity, look at his fight for the estate tax.
Most wealthy people spend their lives trying to hide their money from the government. Gates Sr did the opposite. He co-authored a book called Wealth and Our Commonwealth: Why America Should Tax Accumulated Fortunes.
He argued that the wealthy owe a "due bill" to the society that made their success possible. He didn't believe in dynastic wealth. He thought it was bad for democracy and bad for the kids inheriting it. He actually spent his "retirement" years traveling the country, convincing other millionaires and billionaires that they should be taxed more when they die.
It was a controversial stance. It made him some enemies in high places. But he didn't care. He had this old-school sense of civic duty that seems almost alien today.
A Legacy Beyond the Name
He lived to be 94. Up until the very end in 2020, he was still showing up to the office.
He was a regent at the University of Washington for 15 years. He led the campaign to fund the law school building that now bears his name. But if you asked him what he was proudest of, he wouldn't point to the building or the billions of dollars moved.
He’d probably talk about his bridge club that met for 60 years. Or the fact that he stayed in touch with his childhood friends from Bremerton.
William Henry Gates Sr was the rare individual who could navigate the highest echelons of global power while remaining a "hometown guy" at heart. He provided the moral scaffolding for his son’s success, but he also built a massive, independent legacy of his own.
How to apply his "Showing Up" philosophy
If you’re looking to take a page out of his book, it’s not about having a billion dollars. It’s about the smaller stuff he advocated for:
- The "Exchange Dinner" Rule: He used to have his kids eat dinner at other people’s houses and vice versa to expose them to different perspectives early on. Try getting out of your social bubble once a month.
- Keep Your Mouth Open: He famously quoted Gunter Grass, saying "The first job of a citizen is to keep your mouth open." Don't be a passive observer of your community.
- Acknowledge the Luck: He never claimed he was a "self-made man." He always credited the public schools, the G.I. Bill, and the stable society he lived in. Practice that kind of radical humility.
- The Basement Test: Before you start something big, start small. The world's largest foundation started with a dad helping his son go through some mail in a basement. Just start.
His life is a reminder that being "the father of" someone famous is a title, but being a "citizen of the world" is a choice. He chose the latter every single day for nearly a century.