None of my stories seem big enough to tell. Conversations around the office. Discussing design over a meal. Digging into the hope that American K-12 education could integrate design thinking. Visiting his house to be his practice subject for the video interviews in his second book… truth is, the stories don’t capture the feelings.

I just felt such love for the man. He was so caring and kind and thoughtful and disciplined and had such a big view of the world, while valuing such specific details of it. I felt admired and appreciated in his presence. And humbled by his unassuming greatness. Will miss him greatly.

My favorite Bill story is the combination of all the stories about him that I have, and it tells me that Bill was not only a great designer but also a true gentleman, a man of great taste and imperturbable discernment in all areas of life.

I remember Bill towering above us, not only in the obvious way, although his height was entirely appropriate to his impact on our personal and creative life. His stature as a designer and as a person always gave me a sense of “vantage point” when we were lucky enough to share studio space in San Francisco, a restaurant table in London, a crowded or deserted bar in Tokyo, or simply a common design problem —opportunity, he always said— with him.

At IDEO we called him “Obi-wan” and his always calm demeanor and lovely British accent reminded us of Alec Guinness, too, and always brought a smile to our face even in the greatest of “design emergencies” we got through under his lead. Bill showed us that designers win arguments with more than words and that beauty is the ultimate riposte.

I remember his incredible hospitality on Boxing Day. I remember driving in a downpour a few years ago to reach the “magic house” that his son (and my dear friend Alex) spoke about with frequency. The drive was harrowing and beautiful. Once we arrived both Bill and Karin treated me, my husband, and our spirited 18 month-old Roxie with warmth and welcome. I’ll never forget sipping delicious soup while gazing out over the wet and gorgeous landscape. A warm memory indeed. He will be missed.

I was working on a medical project early in my time at ID Two, I’d helped get the project so was kinda proud to be working on it, but so nervous about designing something that was good enough for my new peers. Bill came over one day and asked me to show him what I was doing. He listening intently, asking a few questions to understand, but mostly listening. When I was done. He gave me a beaming smile and walked away. “What was that about ?? I thought. No feedback at all.”

Three days later I got it. Bill had told me in his way that he trusted me. It was the most generous and profound gift … and a perfect lesson of leadership that has stayed with me.

We went to the goodbye party today, so lovely to see everyone there and re-connect to so many who have their own special Bill moments to share. We are the very spoiled people. Goodbye Bill, you will always be with us.

Bill and I were co-teaching our Transformative Design course at the d.school when the following incident occurred.

I had given a short PowerPoint talk to the first session of the class. That evening Bill phoned me and asked “how did you think today’s class went?” I answered, “not perfect, but good.” I knew what I was supposed to say next, so I played my part: “and what did you think?” Bill replied, “Yes, it was a good class. But the next time please give me your slides the day before and I’ll fix them up for you.” I replied that I had not realized they needed fixing. I chuckled and let it go.

However, the next time he and I and our wives were together for our monthly dinner and scrabble evening, I felt it only proper to show my slides and get a group judgement. After showing my slides, I asked Bill to present his critique. He pointed out that I had not used the official d.school font typeface, and furthermore I did not have a consistent font format throughout. At that point his wife Karin told Bill to stop being such a “font-Nazi.” We all laughed. At the next class meeting I, of course, shared the story with the students. It then became a class joke that if they did not shape up their fonts, Bill, the font-Nazi, would get on their case. It was all great fun, and Bill enjoyed the joke. But clearly, Bill had been viscerally pained by my ad hoc use of fonts. The students and I gained a lot from this incident. It was one of many expressions of Bill’s sensibility and innate taste for what feels beautiful and what feels ugly.

Many things in my interactions with Bill had this same trajectory: good fun with an underpinning of a worthwhile life-changing lesson.

I had the great joy of working intensely with Bill in the early GRiD years, and believe my comments would be echoed by all at GRiD.

First, we must thank his family for supporting him. I know they made real sacrifices while he pursued his work passions with all the rest of us.

Today the most popular electronic devices are direct descendants of his work. Clean design, whether it be casework, process technology, or user interfaces were pioneered by Bill and he deserves great credit for his contributions.

In more recent years Bill and I ran into each other at the most unlikely places. I was always stunned by where he had taken his life. When you are very good at something it is enormously difficult to give it up. But, Bill did this regularly and in so doing touched a greater and greater community until his smile and beliefs spread across the planet.

I opened using the word joy to describe working with Bill. The joy derives from the knowledge that you were working with a really gifted man. When it came to maters of importance to his craft he was unyielding in his beliefs. Discussion about parting lines for tools could be explosive. I never prevailed if the user experience might be compromised to achieve lower costs or higher yields.. In the end of the discussions he would look at John Ellenby, then give me his big smile, usually in a cloud of smoke, and I knew my comments were noted but the parting line detail remained..

By the time we got to the screw covers, I knew my place and instead of whining about slides and pins, I got focused delivering the exact experience he envisioned from his part design. And I stayed focused on the customer experience for the rest of my career.

Two years ago I was called in as an expert on the Grid Compass in one of the many lawsuits deriving from the Moggridge/ Hobson/ Paulen patents. In the first meeting one of the ten lawyers accompanying six befuddled Koreans proudly showed me how they had milled open the top of working Compass Computer to understand how it worked. I gave them a big Bill smile. Ten lawyers working tirelessly, singly and collectively billing the client never found the screwcover entry to the Compass computer. I wish I had told that story to Bill. I am sure all of you have stories to tell to Bill.

Today we mourn our loss of Bill, but not his beliefs, values and freedom to morph to new playgrounds. We can carry those forward for him, and work on smiling more.

Having fun with “infinity projection” at the d.school, back when it was still housed at Sweet Hall.

More important than the delightful things Bill designed, and more important than the world-changing discipline he created, are the people he brought together. A soft-spoken genius with a warm smile, an extraordinary personality that extraordinary people wanted to be around; Bill helped create a school that changed my life, and a company that changed it again. These weren’t just places he created, but thriving and unique communities where life-long friendships are made. I’ll cherish these friendships forever. Thank you Bill, thank you.

While I spent several joyful New Years’ Eves with Karin and Bill in his formal attire singing his famous song, “An Irish Ballad”, what I will always hold a special remembrance is of his competitive drive on the bicycle. On Sunday mornings several of us would ride from Palo Alto out onto the roads in Portola Valley/Woodside. Bill would sometimes ride down from the mountain and meet us at various locations.

It was on an occasion when he had come all of the way down to the Stanford plaza and we then rode out and up Sand Hill road. At the top of VC hill on Sand Hill, he challenged me to see how fast we could ride down the hill towards the Whiskey Hill road intersection. As a true analytical his Bianchi was equipped with a speedometer and he watched it closely. My penchant was to jettison everything on the device and get it as light as possible.

Our goal was to hit 30 mph and we pedaled hell-bent but according to Bill, the time keeper, we did not meet the challenge. I always hoped that we would have another go at it when the wind was at our back, but the Cooper Hewitt opportunity interceded and we never had a chance for a faster ride.
As a sailor, I thought of how I might rig up a spinnaker type device to raise the speed and beat Bill to the bottom of that hill.
I’ll always remember this Renaissance man.

Love to you Karin,
Richard Brand

St. Patrick’s Day. Irish songs with old friends. Bill pulls up to full height. The brows arch, eyes glitter and a gay ghoulish grin takes over. Off he goes — sing Rickety Tickety Tin….

Here Tom Lehrer delivers it almost as well, to remind us all of Bill’s great and generous gift of good humor. Many thanks. Keep ’em laughing, Bill.