In the summer of 1991, Mary Gates, the mother of the Microsoft billionaire Bill Gates, convinced her workaholic 35-year-old son to spend the July 4 holiday at Hood Canal, a scenic, outdoorsy location about two hours from Seattle that had long been the family getaway.
The Oracle of Omaha, Warren Buffett, was among the guests. When Mrs. Gates tried to introduce her son to Mr. Buffett, however, he brushed her off, saying that he didn’t want to meet a “stockbroker.”
But the two men hit it off immediately. Settling into a patterned couch, Mr. Buffett, dressed in a red polo shirt and dark trousers, his left foot propped up against the coffee table, and Mr. Gates in a tennis outfit — shorts and a white shirt, his white socks coming up to mid-calf, his mop of hair tousled — talked for 11 hours straight. The other guests had to pull them apart. Mr. Gates was surprised by the penetrating questions Mr. Buffett directed at him about the software business, and found himself warming to the avuncular Midwestern billionaire.
The two have been close friends ever since. Once, recounting the story of their meeting to students at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, Mr. Gates called it an “unbelievable friendship.” Mr. Buffett quipped, “The moral of that is, listen to your mother.”
Theirs has been an unusual friendship. Mr. Buffett is folksy and outgoing, and never passes up an opportunity to crack a joke. He likes to speak in aphorisms. He enjoys breaking down complex investing principles into simple nuggets that anyone could understand. When he meets new people, Mr. Buffett is genuinely curious about their backgrounds. He asks them questions and listens intently, eyebrows furrowed, to the answers. Banter comes to him easily.
