Byard Lancaster: The Jazz Ambassador

Saxophonist Byard Lancaster was the Cheshire Cat of the Philly jazz wonderland. He seemed to appear suddenly, always dapperly dressed, wielding his horn and enthused about his latest plans for a jazz opera in one corner of the world or a multi-cultural music festival in another, and then disappear with his uproarious laugh lingering behind. The self-professed “jazz ambassador,” who died of cancer in August at age 70, spent time in Chicago, Jamaica, France and Nigeria but always returned home to Philly, where his keening tone could be heard slicing through the commotion in the concourses of Suburban Station (when SEPTA wasn’t arresting him for it). In the late ’60s, Lancaster was one of many native Philadelphians who plunged into the NYC loft scene, recording with free-jazz giants like Sunny Murray and Bill Dixon. He went on to lead Sounds of Liberation, a local supergroup that included vibist Khan Jamal and guitarist Monnette Sudler, and play with the Sun Ra Arkestra and pianist McCoy Tyner. —Shaun Brady

Andy Musser: The Sportscaster

Andy Musser’s involvement with the Phillies’ broadcast booth started early — the Lemoyne, Pa., native won a high-school announcing competition sponsored by the Phillies in the mid-1950s, earning him the chance to call an inning of a Phils game at the old Connie Mack Stadium. He joined the Phillies organization in 1976 and for the next 21 years was part of the greatest four-man broadcasting team in major league baseball history with Harry Kalas, Richie Ashburn and Chris Wheeler. Musser’s consummate professionalism played well off of Ashburn and Wheeler’s patented irreverence, and the quartet’s on-air interplay kept Phillies fans tuning in even during the ball club’s lean seasons. Musser began at WCAU radio and TV in the mid-1960s and broadcast Eagles and Sixers games as well as Villanova Wildcats basketball. His resume also included calling Super Bowls and Masters for CBS Radio and broadcasting the Chicago Bulls and New York Knicks for four seasons each. Musser retired from the Phillies in 2001 and died Jan. 22 at age 74. —Andrew Milner

Sam Mickey: The Owner of a Beloved Diner

Samantha “Sam” Mickey died this past May, at the age of 44, after a lengthy struggle with cancer. She is survived by three children and her diner, the justly famed Sam’s Morning Glory at 10th and Fitzwater streets. Mickey opened the joint in 1997, at age 30. It enjoyed the kind of success that sent lines snaking out the door on weekends. A diverse base of diners ranged from the stooped and gray to the slouched and gelled, about 50 percent of them loyal regulars. “She was a really crazy lady, and had to be to open her first business in the middle of a residential neighborhood,” says Jenny Greer, who has taken over the diner’s management. “There were no other restaurants in the area. This was the beginning of [Bella Vista] as a destination for food." The diner continues to uphold its founder’s standards: The veggies are fresh, the sizable breakfast burritos easily mistaken for surface-to-air missiles, the baked goods made from scratch on the premises. When the menu said something was homemade, Mickey meant it. —Jake Blumgart

Ray Duval: The Theater House Manager

Ray Duval was born Nathan Goldiner, but even two names seem insufficient for his varied and distinguished career as a caregiver and mediator, founder and director of an arts camp, stage manager and — later — house manager for the Prince Music Theater. It was at the Prince that Ray introduced himself to me, though I certainly knew his face as one of the most enthusiastic audience members from many Philadelphia theaters. Our meeting could have been awkward — it followed a couple of less-than-positive reviews I’d written for shows at the Prince. But Ray was not only a true believer; he was a master politician. He talked up the Prince’s importance as force for creating new musical theater. Then he smiled and sent me to my seat. What a charmer! No theater ever had a better advocate. The next time I came to the Prince, Ray gave me one of their promotional coffee mugs. When I heard he died, I filled it with wine and toasted his memory. He was 74. —David Anthony Fox

Kyra Cordova Kruz: The Transgender Activist

Kyra Cordova Kruz’s family and friends, as well as local queer activists, are still shocked by her untimely end by a gunman on Sept. 3 off of Adams Avenue in Frankford. Biracial and transgender, Kruz was born Kris Herold, and as a youth at North Penn Senior High, Kruz helped found the school’s Gay Straight Alliance. She was hired as an HIV tester at the Gay and Lesbian Latino AIDS Education Initiative (GALAEI) only a few months after showing up to volunteer there in 2010. Kruz was a prolific activist, trying to prevent others from suffering the same barriers she struggled against. Kruz organized GALAEI’s Pride brigade, spoke at the AIDS Education Month Prevention Conference and helped restore the Attic Youth Center’s Young, Trans & Unified group. Kruz’s death became a rallying point for an entire community, with more than 300 people attending a candlelight vigil outside of the William Way Center in September. The murder remains unsolved, and anyone with information is asked to call the Philadelphia Police homicide unit at 215-686-3334. —Andrew Wimer

Joe Sgro: The Innovative Guitarist

Whether you’re a guitarist or just a student of good jazz, you owe a debt of gratitude to South Philly guitarist Joe Sgro. This cousin of legendary (and local) jazz-violin pioneer Joe Venuti created his own method of playing guitar, the JS System of Slur-Alternate Picking. There’s a rhythm, hustle and flow to the three-octave JS System that gives the most fluid guitarist bounce without the aid of a drummer. Beyond that technique, Sgro made a living jamming across the city and the States, in joints, casinos and concert halls. He played pool with Jackie Gleason and put the oomph behind Chubby Checker, Bobby Rydell and others while playing for Cameo-Parkway Records. Sgro opened for Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis at Atlantic City’s 500 Club, appeared with the Philadelphia Orchestra under the velvet rope of Eugene Ormandy, recorded a slew of acclaimed albums and taught damn near everyone in the local jazz scene, holding classes in his basement. Man, that had to be some basement — if walls could talk, Sgro’s house would sing. —A.D. Amorosi 

Steve Sabol: The Sports-Films Titan

“A man who changed the way we looked at football” is the way NFL commissioner Roger Goodell described Steve Sabol upon his death, at age 69, after a lengthy battle with brain cancer. That’s not just the histrionics so closely associated with America’s most popular spectator sport talking — Sabol, president of South Jersey-based NFL Films, was, in fact, the man responsible for much of that theatricality. The Moorestown native’s productions, exploiting the gritty, gladiator-like glamour of the gridiron, are so memorable, they’re nearly revisionist. In the late ’50s and early ’60s, pro football had yet to overtake diversions like baseball, boxing or even college football in popularity, but modern fans, citing NFL Films as bibliographic evidence, look back on this era as the sport’s most pure. Sabol accomplished such grandiose framing through graceful slow motion, never-before-seen shots and sounds, a knack for heroic narrative and, of course, the voiceovers of John Facenda, another legendary Philadelphian. His flair for the dramatic, as well as his ability to cement temporary images into the permanent consciousness of American fandom, redefined our relationship with the game. —Drew Lazor

Major Harris: The Smooth Soul Singer

Major Harris was born in Richmond, Va., and he died there at the age of 65, but the influence of Philadelphia on his life (and vice versa) is undeniable. When longtime singer Randy Cain left the Delfonics in 1971, the quintessential Philly soul group brought in the satin-voiced tenor Harris — then a fresh-faced veteran of teen pop groups like Frankie Lymon’s Teenagers and Nat Turner’s Rebellion — to try to keep the hit train going. It seemed like a good fit; his brother Joe Jefferson was already here, writing singles for the Spinners, and his cousin, Norman Harris, was a session guitarist for Gamble and Huff. Despite a few moments in the vocal spotlight (“Lying to Myself, “Think It Over Baby”), Major Harris’s first tenure with The Delfonics ended after only a couple years. As a solo artist he became known for steamy soul ballads, including the smash hit “Love Won’t Let Me Wait.” He later returned to perform with half of the fractured Delfonics (Cain also had a group by that name, long story) and continued to do so well into the 2000s. —Patrick Rapa