Paul Vinton (1983-2007) (Photo by Hiroyuki Ito)

Juilliard suffered a great loss with the sudden and untimely death at age 23 of guitarist and alumnus Paul Vinton (Artist Diploma ’06, Jazz Studies) on April 1. All of this school’s divisions are close-knit units, but perhaps none is as intimate as Jazz Studies by virtue of its size; the total number of students in any given year is only slightly more than two dozen. Therefore, this tragedy reverberated especially hard among Paul’s classmates, many of whom are still enrolled here as students.

Paul’s wake and funeral service were held, a few days after his death, in and around his hometown, Sugar Notch, Pa. It seemed as though the entire community paid their respects, and there was a large contingent of Paul’s friends from his years at the Berklee School of Music in Boston as well as from Juilliard.

To Paul’s family, Juilliard offers its most profound condolences, and in that spirit, offers the following composite portrait from six different perspectives. There are some common denominators as well as individual points of view that hopefully, when taken together, will construct at least a partial portrait of this intensely gifted young man who was clearly as devoted to his friends and family as he was to his music.
— LOREN SCHOENBERG, Jazz Studies Faculty



I’ve been friends with Paul since we were both students at Berklee College of Music in Boston. When we were at Berklee, we were both selected for playing at the Blue Note in New York, and I met him for the first time at a rehearsal for that gig. The moment he entered the room, he started talking a lot and made the band members happy with a cheerfulness that was natural to him. But once he started playing music, he always got very serious. I loved his attitude toward music. Paul’s playing swung. He was gifted with great musical talents. We shared so many wonderful experiences.
— MAYUKO KATAKURA (Artist Diploma ’07, Jazz Studies)



Paul Vinton knew how to keep friends together and keep them laughing. With the unstable and demanding life of an artist, we can sometimes become isolated from the world and forget about the importance of close friendships. Paul knew of this importance and made every effort to keep us all close together, especially after graduation. When it was time to get together, Paul always took it upon himself to personally call each and every friend multiple times, because he knew we’d usually make lame excuses for not getting together. He’d talk real fast, like an auctioneer, and say, “Come on, man, let’s get together just for a little while, and don’t say you’re busy because I know you’re not busy. Don’t even pretend like you have gigs. Come on out.” (Unfortunately he was right about the gigs!) And there we were—all of us together, having a great time! He had that natural high energy and excitement that people loved and always wanted to be around. All of us who knew Paul Vinton have been touched by the great humor and joy he brought to our lives. His witty soulfulness and passion as a human being was translated through his musicianship. We can hear it in his music. We all are grateful to have known Paul Vinton.
— DOMINICK FARINACCI (B.M. ’05, Jazz Studies)



Paul to me was a person who was selfless. He wanted to make sure everyone was doing well. He looked out for me and he became the kind of friend others wish they had. I noticed right away that Paul had a kind of old-school way about him; he was very mature for his age, and we established a connection right away. Our group of friends always looked out for each other. Paul always complimented people and made them feel good about themselves, including me. On occasion I would cook dinner for my friends. One night while at the supermarket shopping for ingredients to make eggplant parmesan, Paul insisted on having breaded pork chops. So that was what we had, and I tried my best to make this because I know this was his family’s favorite. It was taking a while to make dinner and I was rushing to finish while my friends were hanging out and listening to music. When dinner was finally ready, we all sat down and ate. Everyone loved it! Paul told me, “These pork chops are better than my mom’s.” Although I didn’t show it, I felt really honored to have my friends enjoying a meal that I cooked. There are countless stories that I have about Paul. I am sure that my mom has already made her famous eggplant parmesan for Paul up in heaven.
— CARMEN INTORRE (B.M. ’05, Jazz Studies)



I was Paul’s roommate along with bassist Yasushi Nakamura while we were students at Juilliard. Paul was a great guitar player and had a great sense of humor. The world has lost a special person ... he was just getting started. We spent lots of time together playing and listening to the music we love, or just eating pizza, Paul’s favorite food!
— NIAL DJULIARSO (Artist Diploma ’06, Jazz Studies)



When I first heard about my best friend Paul Vinton’s sudden death, I was surrounded by great sadness, confusion, and regrets. He truly was a great friend. We first met when we were at the Berklee College of Music. He asked me if I wanted to play a session. I still remember my first impression of him: friendly but a little cocky. But he blew me away with his soulful and bluesy guitar playing. He already had his own sound, style, and unique phrasing. After that session, we clicked and became good friends. We found out that we were living in the same apartment building so we often hung out and played a lot. After Berklee, we both got accepted to Juilliard and decided to live together with another roommate, Nial. Living with Paul, we shared a lot about everything around us. He liked to talk about music, his family and friends, and pizza. At one point, I gained so much weight because of pizza. We always ordered his favorite: extra cheese, meat, and tomato sauce. We used to eat it almost every day—no joke! I think about him daily and wish him good luck up in heaven. I am pretty sure that he is up there playing that guitar, sharing stories about his family and friends, and enjoying his pizza.
— YASUSHI NAKAMURA (Artist Diploma ’06, Jazz Studies)



One can say that cherry Kool-Aid was inspiration for writing about my roommate and best friend who died suddenly on April 1, 2007, at age 23. A few moments before sitting at the computer to write this, I spilled a full glass of the red, sugar-filled beverage all over my desk, staining everything in its path. At that moment, I could not help but imagine Paul Vinton standing nearby, laughing hysterically as I looked helplessly at the mess. Ironically, it would be his laughter that would cool my rage as to how careless I could be. We often went back and forth, bantering with each other about our differences. He would mock my growing collection of bow ties and ascots, while I would tease him about the LRG “urban clothing” jacket he wore that looked like the result of a kindergarten art project. Paul had a terrific sense of humor—he was one of those people who could make one’s worse days into the best.

Paul and I spent many hours together in the apartment talking about and listening to the music of Grant Green, Charlie Parker, Miles Davis, Bud Powell, and others, but being a member of the emerging hip-hop band Lifted, he introduced me into a world of music about which I was less informed, and taught me countless lessons about music, myself, and above all, friendship. He was a roommate, band mate, and a brother. I will surely miss the watered-down cherry Kool-Aid that was truly unique to Paul Vinton II. Resquiat in Pace.
— AARON DIEHL (B.M. ’07, Jazz Studies)