(5 of 10)
So far, the foundation has been able to exact a rare level of accountability from its grantees. In India the foundation runs an HIV/AIDS-prevention program that is headed by Ashok Alexander, formerly a senior partner at consulting firm McKinsey & Co. He calls the 200,000 sex workers served by the program "customers" and the clinics "franchises." In the past year, he has cut off funding to three nongovernmental organizations because they did not meet agreed-upon milestones. "People are not used to being terminated for nonperformance, strange as it may seem," Alexander says.
At the headquarters in Seattle, the staff has deliberately developed a culture of self-criticism--or "friction," as they call it. The main sources are Bill and Melinda. "We'll have friction here until the day those two die," says COO Mathews. Presenting to them, says Greg Shaw, director of the Pacific Northwest program, is like arguing in front of the Supreme Court. "They really go after where you feel most vulnerable."
It's easy to forget that Gates was considered a philanthropic deadbeat just over a decade ago. By 1992 he had given away more than $21 million, mostly to local charities and schools. But since he was worth $8 billion, the local papers were not impressed. Even his parents were concerned. Before Bill and Melinda were married in 1994, Mary Gates, his mother, gave a letter to Melinda in which she stressed the great opportunities the two would have, as well as the responsibilities. "From those to whom much is given, much is expected," she wrote.
They had not raised their son to be ungenerous. Mary had worked as a teacher until her children were born. Then, as a mother of three, she served on the boards of several charitable organizations in Seattle. She was the first woman to chair the board of United Way International. After she was appointed to the University of Washington board of regents, she led a successful movement to divest the school's investments in South Africa. Bill Gates Sr., a prosperous lawyer, was also active in United Way and the University of Washington.
"Mom and Dad would talk about the things they were doing," Bill said at an annual staff meeting at the foundation in November. "I remember giving Mom a hard time at the table [over one United Way decision]. There was a whole competition over payroll deduction--a fascinating set of issues," he said, smiling.
But Bill's plan was to wait 20 or 30 years, until he had retired, to create a foundation. "He was one of the busiest people in the world," says his father, known to everyone at the foundation as "Senior." "He didn't want to have another entity to worry about." But solicitations were pouring in--and piling up, unanswered. "Anybody who had an eye out for a dollar was mailing letters to the richest man in the country," his father says.
Bill Sr. was painfully aware of the complaints about his son's indifference. In 1994, not long after Mary died, as he was waiting in line to see a movie with Bill and Melinda, he volunteered to help them start answering the requests. His son agreed. "I was willing to start early because I had someone I trusted to carry it out," Bill says. So they set up the William H. Gates Foundation in Bill Sr.'s basement rec room. He used his home address, until the post office complained about the volume of mail.