Steven Brian Bass

Steven Bass, known fondly as Steve, passed away leaving behind a legacy of service, scholarship, and steadfast devotion to his community. A lifelong resident of Magnolia in Seattle, Washington, Steve’s roots ran deep in the neighborhood he cherished.

Steve graduated from Queen Anne High School in 1969, where he met the love of his life, Stella Conom. They married in 1972 and built a life grounded in faith, family, and purpose. He earned his degree from the University of Washington and spent his career as a CPA, dedicating his professional life to supporting nonprofit organizations.

In his younger years, Steve could often be found at the Magnolia Community Center during basketball season, coaching youth and sharing his love of the game. His commitment to community extended far beyond the court.

A devoted member of Magnolia Presbyterian Church, Steve was ordained as an elder in 1984 and served multiple terms on session. His leadership and faith also led him to serve on the national board of the Presbyterian Foundation. Over the years, he lent his time and talents to numerous organizations, including the Bread of Life Mission, Seattle Shakespeare Company, and the Seattle Police Foundation.

Steve was a proud Husky, rarely seen without his purple and gold. He was an enthusiastic supporter of University of Washington football and followed the team with unwavering loyalty.

A lover of art, history, and travel, Steve was a passionate scholar of the Civil War. He visited many battlefields and national parks throughout his life, always seeking to deepen his understanding of the past and appreciate the beauty of the natural world.

Steve was preceded in death by his wife, Stella Bass, who passed away in 2019. He is survived by his sons Brian Bass (Kristan LaJoie) and Andy Bass; four grandchildren; sisters Mary Bass (Jeff Jelinek) and Joanne Wilson (David Wilson); as well as many nieces, nephews, cousins, and his beloved fiancée, Suzanna Darcy.

A memorial service will be held at Magnolia Presbyterian Church on Friday, August 22, 2025, at 1:00 p.m., with a reception to follow in the church hall.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to Magnolia Presbyterian Church in Steve’s honor.

Eulogy for Steve, August 22, 2025

As Steve’s fiancée Suzanna would say, Steve wouldn’t want us to fuss over him. But as Mick sang—and as was reinforced on every road trip—you can’t always get what you want. So here we are, at a time when we might just want to paint it black. But instead, let’s focus on celebrating and remembering what an amazing person Steve was.

Every family has its dynamics, and Steve did his best to navigate them. But perhaps there was a subtle message to his parents when he loaded baby Mary into his red Radio Flyer wagon and deposited her on the opposite side of the block.

Speaking of Mary, no one did more for Steve’s romantic life than she did. In middle school gymnastics, Mary was paired with the next shortest girl: Stella Conom. Stella lived over on 36th near Discovery Park, unlike the “people of the valley,” as my grandpa Lee liked to call themselves. Mary was surprised when Stella later showed up at the house with Steve. Much later, Steve met another of Mary’s friends—Suzanna Darcy. You could attribute more than 50 years of Steve’s romantic life to his sister.

Steve was a Boy Scout in both life and spirit. You could count on him to do the right thing and offer sound advice whenever asked. His moral compass was always true. While he never made Eagle Scout himself, he did manage to raise two of them. Still, youthful mischief was never far behind.

Steve lived a life of service. It began early, coaching youth basketball at the Magnolia Rec Center with his dad. Later, he served on several boards. But you may not have heard that he and the Juniper Beach kids used to pass out candy at the Stanwood parade—from a toilet.

We all knew Steve as someone who planned ahead. But did you know that extended to his love of junior hockey? He’d buy two tickets to every game—one to get in and one for re-entry, knowing full well he and his friends would inevitably be asked to leave.

He loved a good puzzle—even when that puzzle involved rearranging the letters on the Stanwood burger joints’ reader boards. Two infamous examples: “Our burgers have maggots” and “Donna dines at Ovenell’s.” Donna, of course, was the daughter of Ovenell’s chief competitor.

One of the things I appreciated most about my dad were his idiosyncrasies. He was a rock ’n’ roll CPA. A rabid sports fan; particularly for UW football and basketball. An armchair Civil War scholar. He loved Bruce Springsteen, Billy Joel, and the Rolling Stones just as much as he loved iambic pentameter. Steve’s love of music went hand in hand with his love of driving. Andy and I know the lyrics to every song of the summer from 1965 to 1995 from car rides with Steve. Not by choice.

In a parallel universe, I like to think he would’ve been a history professor. He was active in the Civil War Preservation Trust, and both Andy and I had the privilege of joining him on vacations to visit battlefields with Trust guides.

We all knew Steve was brilliant—professionally and personally. And I’ll admit, this was hard to write, because I spent most of my youth convinced I was smarter than he was.

Andy and I had the good fortune to grow up in a loving home. Even when Steve and Stella fought, it wasn’t with ferocity—it was two strong-willed people trying to make the best of things for our family. Though we probably meet the definition of Gen X latchkey kids, we always knew we had a safe place to land and supportive parents when we needed them. This extended to both sports and music. We did however, hear about it when we turned up the volume at band practice such that my guitar and Andy’s drums could be heard from blocks away. Steve also reveled at being a grandparent; first with granddaughter Aavi and then three boys, Henry, Elias, and Brendan.

Later in life, Steve became a bit of a renaissance man. We all knew he could grill—a skill passed down from Lee. But the kitchen was always my mom’s domain, from the Greek key woodwork to the imported stove. So I was surprised when he started taking cooking classes—and even more surprised when he began sending pictures of the food he’d made. Not only was it good, but he seemed genuinely happy building a new skill.

The same was true of his love of art. He always had an appreciation, but dating an art museum board member awakened something deeper. He really leaned into it. He had an amazing time on the BEMA trips, and we loved hearing stories of the galleries and private residences he and Suzanna got to visit.

More than anything, I remember my dad as someone who could adapt and persevere through adversity—and still find joy. Let’s remember Steve as a joyful servant. Someone who cared enough to use his time and talents to make the world a better place.