Gates dropped a hint of the "why?" when he said: "The world has had a tendency to focus a disproportionate amount of attention on me."

Indeed. All too often, people tend to define corporations by the "alpha male" sitting atop the corporate pyramid. Whether it's coded in our DNA or ingrained through centuries of business doctrine, we credit and/or blame the alpha male for the firms successes and/or failures. And make no mistake-it's a male role-much of the opprobrium directed at former HP chief Carly Fiorina focused on her gender rather than her corporate policies.

Gates is a perennial scapegoat for engineers, programmers and geeks of all stripes. Seen by many as a personification of Microsoft, he was often blamed for any missteps by the software giant (during a Brussels appearance in 1998, a prankster slammed a cream pie into his face).

But even diehard critics appreciated his business acumen. And now, Gates should be lauded for accomplishing what the filthy rich ought to do: use their management skills to create institutions that-ideally-teach the less well-off how to better their lot. Doling out cash or goods seldom accomplishes lasting results, but building institutions that provide managed assistance ("trade not aid," micro-loans) can make a difference.

Though he's one of the world's richer and more powerful men, Gates never projected the alpha-male stereotype. The bespectacled Microsoft chief isn't out there racing boats or plastering his name on private jets. He appears more geeky than smug, with a voice more suited to the server room than the keynote podium-yet carries himself well as leader of a company that helped create our modern business environment.