William Francis Van Woert

outdoorsman, veteran, and lifelong adventurer, passed away peacefully at home, tended by

his children, on August 24, 2026, at the age of 103.

Born in Elmira, New York, on June 20, 1923, William eventually made his home in Red Bluff,

California, where he lived for 73 years. It was there that he built a life centered around family,

nature, science, and an abiding curiosity about the world around him.

William was preceded in death by his beloved wife, Lovilla “Billie” (Wheaton) Van Woert. He is

survived by his children, Michael L. Van Woert, Mary E. Cheyne, William P. Van Woert, and

Elizabeth L. LeBaron, along with six grandchildren and two great-grandchildren. He was also

preceded in death by his daughter-in-law, Michelle Van Woert, and his grandson, Paul L. Van

Woert.

William’s education and career reflected his lifelong fascination with the natural world. He

graduated from Cornell University with a degree in Fisheries Biology and went on to spend 35

years working in research for the California Department of Fish and Game as an Inland

Fisheries Marine Biologist. He didn't simply study fish—he had a genuine fascination with

them and the places they lived.

His scientific career led to one of the great adventures of his life. At the age of 75, William was

invited by his son Michael to join a scientific research mission aboard the

icebreaker Nathaniel B. Palmer in Antarctica. As part of the research team, he helped deploy

instruments used to collect scientific data in the challenging Antarctic environment. During

that voyage, four new species of fish were discovered. For William, it was the kind of

adventure that perfectly suited him: science, the outdoors, and the opportunity to explore

somewhere few people ever get to see.

His sense of adventure was not limited to Antarctica. He loved fly-fishing, marksmanship,

baseball and football—especially the Giants and 49ers. Yellowstone held a special place in

the family’s heart, and many family trips there were built around its world-class fly-fishing. He

raised a family of fly-fisherman. He backpacked with his children through the Trinity Alps and

the Sierra Nevada Range, and summited Mount Whitney and Mount Shasta in addition to

lesser mountains.

For his children, however, William’s greatest adventures were often the ordinary ones.

He was a father who could be persuaded to stop whatever he was doing to play catch. He

taught his children to ride their bicycles, took them to parades, involved them at times in his

work such as fish-planting and nighttime fish research in the coves of Shasta Lake, giving

them an unusual—and unforgettable—glimpse into his world. He took them target shooting,

and made sure they learned proper hunter safety.

There were annual camping/fishing trips to Lassen Park. The observant person would see

him walking along followed by four children wearing essentials to keep them safe - Styrofoam

pith helmets, army-surplus canteens strapped to their waists, whistles hanging around their

necks on lanyards he wove for them, and bamboo fishing rods in their hands.

William had a remarkable talent for turning a child's idea into a project.

When Bill and Mary wanted to retrieve their marbles that had fallen into a storm drain, he

didn't simply tell them the marbles were lost. He spent time figuring out how to make a tool

that could retrieve them.

When his children decided that the family Labrador should pull a wagon, William spent an

entire day constructing a harness to make their idea possible. And when a chicken named

Claudia suffered from heat exhaustion, William came to her aid, gently tending her until she

cooled off and revived. He had a particular tenderness for small children and young animals

and a deep compassion for the vulnerable and hurting.

His children remember giving up a Saturday morning because Dad had decided that the

children needed to help rescue stranded fish in Salt Creek. At the time, this may not have

seemed like the best possible use of a Saturday morning. Looking back, however, it became

one of those stories that says everything about who he was.

William was raised Catholic and the thing that stood out was how Romans 2:14-15a reminds

the family of him: “For when Gentiles who do not have the Law do instinctively the things of

the Law, these, not having the Law, are a law to themselves, in that they show the work of the

Law written in their hearts,”

It was abundantly evident that the law was written on William's heart. He was loving, selfless

– always thinking of others first, generous, patient, kind, devoted, adventurous, and quietly

determined. He was not a man who needed to be the center of attention. He was more likely

to quietly fix something, solve a problem, lend a hand, or head outside to see what needed

doing.

Perhaps one of the most remarkable things about William was what he didn't do. He never

spoke badly about others and he did not hold grudges. His kindness was steady and genuine,

and he treated people—and animals—with compassion and respect.

He retained his adventurous spirit throughout his long life. Family members still remember his

confession that he got up on his roof at 101 years of age, much to their horror. It was, in its

own way, quintessential William: age might have been a number, but it was never going to

dictate what he could or could not do.

His life also included working as a tool and die maker for Remington Rand, as well as giving

service to his country during WW II. During his military service, William served as a Naval

Machinist’s Mate aboard the USS Tripoli.

William's life was long, but more importantly, it was full. He explored, he worked, he learned,

he taught, he modeled humility and grace, he served, and above all, he loved his family.

He gave his children more than memories. He gave them a way of looking at the world: be

curious, solve the problem, help the creature that needs help, go see what's around the next

bend, and don't be afraid of a little adventure.

His children will remember a father who, in 103 years, left very little room for regret—and an

enormous collection of stories, only a few of which have been shared here.

William will be deeply missed and lovingly remembered by his family and all who had the

privilege of knowing him.

A private family service will be held in his honor at a later date.

“Dad you raised us up to more than we could be, and we are grateful to have been your

children.”