Remember Them Well

William F. Buckley Jr., 82 SURE, he was the father of American conservatism, the founder of National Review and the champion of Goldwater and Reagan. But he also had one of the century's most perspicacious, peripatetic minds (and he loved sesquipedalian words). He was an expert on sailing, spy novels—and the harpsichord. He died, working, at his desk. Which is just what you'd expect from someone whose collected papers weighed seven tons.

Arthur C. Clarke, 90 He was one of the greatest sci-fi writers, not least because his grasp of science was just as firm as his grasp of fiction. Best known for novels set in the distant future, such as "The City and the Stars" and the fantastical screenplay of "2001: A Space Odyssey," he also proposed a system of communication satellites before man had even reached space. Leave it to an imaginative former physics student to observe, "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."

Bobby Fischer, 64 He was a high-school dropout who learned to play chess from his sister, but that didn't stop him from winning the World Chess Championship in 1972. His defeat of Boris Spassky at the height of the Cold War made Fischer a hero, which made his downfall all the more shocking. He later became anti-American and an anti-Semite, and when he played Spassky again in Yugoslavia in 1992, he won the match— but lost his citizenship. Checkmate, Bobby.

Heath Ledger, 28 Ledger always seemed to have a nervous energy, as if he couldn't stop moving—and maybe he didn't want to. He left Australia for Hollywood when he was a teenager and, at 26, earned an Oscar nomination for "Brokeback Mountain." He will (in all likelihood) get another one for "The Dark Knight," which came out after his death from an accidental prescription-drug overdose. It's a shame he had to quit us.

Mildred Loving, 68 In 1958, Virginia police arrested the Lovings in their bedroom for violating state miscegenation laws. Inspired by Martin Luther King and encouraged by Attorney General Bobby Kennedy, Loving took her case to the Supreme Court, which in 1967 struck down the last segregation law. She always claimed her act was personal, not political, but on the 40th anniversary of the court decision, she spoke out for the rights of gays to marry, eloquently passing the baton to the next generation.

Gordon B. Hinckley, 97Wherever Hinckley went, crowds waved white handkerchiefs. And he went a lot of places: as president and prophet of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, he toured 60 countries, dedicating 95 of the church's 128 temples. He did "Larry King" and "60 Minutes," and increased church membership to more than 13 million. And to think: he hated to travel.

Michael Crichton, 66 The doctor turned author of "Jurassic Park" and "The Andromeda Strain" loved exploring the gray area between science and science fiction. Crichton moved easily from books to movies to TV; he directed "The Great Train Robbery" and "Coma," and created "ER." Which means we also have him to thank for George Clooney.

Robert Mondavi, 94 It took the megavintner years to silence the jug-wine jokes, but they really were sour grapes. His eponymous label took the slur out of "California wine" and made Napa a destination. The son of Italian immigrants, he was so talented—and so charismatic—that even the snootiest wine families in Europe (de Rothschild, Frescobaldi) signed on for partnerships. Salute!

Charlton Heston, 84 "Heston is a godlike hero; built for strength, he's an archetype of what makes Americans win." Pauline Kael's review of him in "Planet of the Apes" could apply to the man, too. Having played the larger-than-life Michelangelo and Ben-Hur, Heston became a darling of the right and president of the NRA. At its 2000 convention, he made one more deMille-worthy gesture: mimicking his Moses-parting-the-sea pose, he held a rifle in the air and said it would be taken only "from my cold dead hands!"

Studs Terkel, 96 "And what happened then?" Usually, that was all it took for Terkel to get folks to spill their secrets. He used it all, turning what was once mere journalism (though of the Pulitzer-winning variety) into grand oral history. In seven books and countless radio broadcasts, his subjects spoke about race and class, war and the Depression, their jobs and their dreams. Terkel's working-class empathy and patient, guileless style helped a confused nation speak its mind.

W. Mark Felt, 95 You'd expect a guy who worked for Hoover at the FBI to know how to keep a secret—and he kept a whopper. Felt spent more than 30 years denying he was Deep Throat, the informant who leaked key details of Watergate to reporters Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein. He was an unlikely muckraker. In 1980, Felt was himself convicted of authorizing break-ins of several members of the Weather Underground (the big twist: Nixon testified on his behalf). But that, he thought, was about national security. Watergate was an abuse of power, and a big enough one to risk his career. Though we know now that bringing down a corrupt president was arguably the most important job in American political history.

Georgia Frontiere, 80 The first female owner of an NFL team wanted to be an opera star, and her life was nothing if not dramatic. The former chorus girl inherited the Los Angeles Rams when her husband drowned in the Atlantic Ocean. Scandal soon followed, not only because she liked to kiss her players after a good play but because hubby No. 7 was indicted in 1986 for scalping Super Bowl tickets—and her team lost. But the Rams, after she moved them to St. Louis, finally did win her one in 2000.

Tony Snow, 53 He was one of the few George W. Bush cohorts to earn the respect and admiration of the press corps—an affable family man who kept his full head of hair held high, even during chemo. As a onetime journalist himself, first in print and then on Fox News, he had branded Bush an "embarrassment" with a "lackluster" foreign policy—before becoming his press secretary.

Richard Blackwell, 86 Before there was a Joan Rivers or a Kathy Griffin or a "Project Runway," there was Mr. Blackwell and his vicious and delicious Worst-Dressed List. He trained his sharp eye, and even sharper tongue, on fashion faux pas of every station. On Björk: "She dances in the dark —and dresses there too." Barbra Streisand: "A masculine bride of Frankenstein." Queen Elizabeth: "From Her Majesty to Her Travesty." His own fashion career fizzled, but when it came to designing quips, he was haute couture all the way.

Hamilton Jordan, 63 As a member of the Georgia mafia that propelled Jimmy Carter into the White House in 1976, the young, brash, blue-jeans-wearing chief of staff was anything but politics as usual. His style was perhaps too unbuttoned, even for the times. Tip O'Neill dubbed him Hannibal Jerkin; at one point the White House released a 33-page statement denying that he had spit a drink at a woman in a bar. But he helped Carter push through the Panama Canal Treaty and worked toward the 1978 Camp David accords. Later he mounted an unsuccessful Senate bid. But he will be best remembered as the man who helped turn a peanut farmer into a president.