Even after his fame had spread beyond the world of brewing, beer writer Michael Jackson was still introducing himself with “not that Michael Jackson. I drink beer.” The idea of anyone confusing the race- and gender-ambiguous pop star with this shaggy, rumpled Yorkshireman with a beer in his hand was laughable.

After all, our Michael Jackson was one of the biggest—if not the biggest—influences on the craft-beer movement around the world. Had it not been for Jackson’s groundbreaking writings about beer (where it came from, who made it, how it tasted), many breweries would never have opened, and many more might have closed. You probably wouldn’t be reading this beer column, and I certainly wouldn’t be writing it.

Jackson’s sudden death from a heart attack on August 30, at the age of 65, left us with a tremendous legacy. When he started writing about beer in 1976, no one else was doing it. When he published The World Guide to Beer in 1977, no one had ever written a book for the beer drinker that examined all the different forms of beer. He gave beer a popular taxonomy, a family tree of names and descriptions: an Export lager was maltier than a helles, but less hoppy than a pilsner. When people read his work, they were inspired to find these beers and try them.

It is impossible to overstate the effect this had on beer and brewing. Jackson piqued people’s interest in beers from out-of-the-way corners of the world and in styles of brewing that had been forgotten outside of their home areas: tart, fizzy Berliner weisse; stiffly hoppy India pale ale; and the Belgian beers he particularly loved (sharply fruity Flanders reds, spicy and crisp witbier, rich Trappist-brewed ales, and quirky, funky lambic).

The attention—and sales—Jackson generated helped keep open many of the tiny breweries that made these beers. He was recognized for that work in 1994, when Crown Prince Philippe of Belgium presented him with the Mercurius Award for service to Belgian breweries, one of many awards Jackson received. His influence on the American craft-brewing industry was no less significant.

As fellow beer writer Ray Daniels put it, “Michael simply created the beer universe as we know it. So much of how we think about beer comes directly from his research, thinking, and writing.” I’ve heard dozens of brewers say that the inspiration to make beers and build breweries—and create jobs at those breweries—came largely from reading Jackson books such as The New World Guide to Beer, Michael Jackson’s Beer Companion, and his frequently updated Pocket Guide to Beer; his columns in various trade journals and newspapers; and even his The Beer Hunter videos.

Jackson’s influence extended beyond the niches of rare imports and craft brewing. The Big Three brewers are making beers you’d never have expected to see 10 years ago, enticed by the success of smaller brewers. Jackson once told an audience of macrobrewers that the best thing they could do would be to shoot one marketer a month until the department got it right: The beer is the important thing, not the brand. With the renewed emphasis on the beer itself becoming a new trend in macrobrewers’ advertising, it appears that someone was listening—perhaps with a gun to his head.

Jackson’s most enduring legacy may be one that is still working its way through our culture: the elevation of beer to its deserved status as equivalent to wine and spirits. He enjoyed all three—he is perhaps more celebrated in Britain for his writings on Scotch whiskey than for his discourses on beer—but found it galling that beer was considered of lower status. “Beer is by far the more extensively consumed, but less adequately honored,” he wrote in Michael Jackson’s Beer Companion in 1993. “In a small way, I want to help put right that injustice.”

In a large way, he has. Jackson created the idea of the tutored tasting—a group of people sampling beers selected and presented by an experienced moderator—for beer. He expanded that idea to pairing different beers with appropriate courses in a beer dinner, from tart aperitif beers to whet the palate to rich, chocolaty beers to enhance desserts. His own beer columns have spawned others by showing editors that beer appeals to a popular interest. The notion that beer can be taken as seriously as wine—and command serious prices—can still bring a laugh, but from a dwindling audience.

Jackson was a man of the moment, an experienced journalist who loved beer, found a niche, and threw himself into it with a passion. He drove himself hard, constantly sampling, traveling for weeks at a time, writing late into the night, and running a Red Queen’s race as new breweries and beers popped up all over the world—tiring evidence of his success.

I talked to one of Jackson’s favorite brewers, the uncontrollably innovative Sam Calagione, founder of Dogfish Head Craft Brewing in Milton, Delaware. How do we replace Jackson? I asked. “We don’t have to replace him,” Calagione replied. “Lord knows we can’t. But we can collectively pick up his very big, bright torch and keep spreading the word.”

That’s the kind of fervor Jackson created and encouraged: a deep passion for beer with flavor and character, and a missionary’s drive to bring others to it. Those of us who caught it will continue to spread it.