10/23/2026
Dear Friends,
Its with a heavy heart that I share that my dearest friend, mentor, and so much more, Billy Rignola, passed away this past Tuesday evening. Billy would have turned 93 this Sunday.
I’ve known Billy the majority of my life; we met when I was 16 and he took me under his wing and I can honestly say that with few interruptions along the way we played together at least once a week. That’s a lot of gigs over three plus decades. It would take a book to fill all the stories, laughs, adventures and so much more that we shared together, and all I can say is that I will truly miss my “pop” as I called him.
Billy was the best balance of what a young kid, young man, or now that I think of it, what anyone at any age needed from a mentor. He was kind, patient, loving, but always genuine, truthful and honest. He pushed, sometimes hard, but not to the point that you wouldn’t come back. He was encouraging, funny, and when he played he was without question the coolest and hippest guy in the room. Hearing Billy play was like hearing a mix of Stan Getz, Dexter Gordon and Frank Sinatra all rolled up into one. He had a sound that was unlike any other, he swung hard, and his ideas were always so creative, inventive, rhythmic and infectious.
Billy always put the music and the musicians first. Although I attended three universities in my lifetime and have three degrees hanging on my wall, when I think of where I learned Jazz from and who I learned how to be a musician and a bandleader from, it clearly was at the Dunton Inn Conservatory of Jazz directed by Mr. Rignola. I’m pretty confident that the weekly jam session he started at Eddie Mariella’s Dunton Inn is without dispute the longest running jam session on Long Island. For any artist its become a right of passage that you must go through there at some point to cut your teeth if you actually want to call yourself a Jazz musician
My memories of a smoke filled room with the shuffle board along the side wall, cigarette machine, pool table in the back, pay phone by the entrance (that rang during every ballad) will be forever engraved in my memories. Some famous musicians came through there over the years, some regularly, and all had the same immediate question when they heard Billy: "Who is that guy?" Why don't I know him?" Although Billy chose a different career as a builder and a life centered around family, every hard hitting artist that played with him agreed, and made an emphatic point of sharing that Billy's talents abounded and that he could have been right alongside them, at their level, playing with the best.
For me, my relationship with Billy meant so much musically, but it also meant so much as a person. As truthful and direct as he was in teaching me about music, so was he in teaching me about developing my character and values. Billy taught me how to act and how not to act, what to say and what not to say, how best to treat people, how to handle oneself in business, and most importantly how to prioritize family. I may have learned a ton on the bandstand with Billy but l learned even more sitting around his dining room table, in his kitchen as he cooked pasta and meatballs, and observing how he interacted with his lovely wife Sandra and his children.
When Dizzy Gillespie was asked once about Louis Armstrong and how important he was to Dizzy, he simply replied, "No him, no me." When I think of the importance of my pop Billy Rignola in my life, I couldn't think of any better words than that, "No him, no me."
Billy and I played a trio gig once a month for the last two years and I looked forward to it more than any other gig I had in the book. These past few months it was more and more noticeable that his health was diminishing and our September gig was clearly harder for him. Just a little over a week ago was our October gig and having a heads up that he might have a hard time coming in I decided, knowing him pretty well after all these years, that I'd arrive super early to setup and just hang at the bar so that if when he arrived and was having difficulty, I'd simply slip away to the bathroom to give him time to setup without me seeing him struggle. You can imagine my surprise when I got there super early to see that he had beat me there! I had to laugh as I walked in knowing that he was surely thinking the same thing I was, but in classic form, Billy knew how to navigate the changes better than I did.
When I sat next to him and said, "Hey pop, how's it going?" Billy just looked at me and started to cry. So, I sat down next to my pop, held his hand, and I cried. I immediately knew that this was going to be the last time I got to play with my hero. I got to tell Billy how much I loved him, how appreciative I was for all he did for me over the years and we both shared a very special experience together. That night was a packed house and for just over two hours we got to laugh together, cry together, drink great w**e together, and most importantly we got to make music together. We ended the first set with the whole room singing Happy Birthday to him and come the end of the second set you could have heard a pin drop. Someone asked for an encore and the last song we ever played together was Hoagy Carmichael's The Nearness of You.
When I think of Billy now that he's gone to glory with our Lord, I'm sure that I will always feel both happy and sad. I'm sure I'll be nostalgic and that my mind will wander and think of people and places, all of which are a part of the soundtrack of my life. With both joy and melancholy I'll remember where I came from, how he and so many others shaped and molded me. Many are gone now, but I know that especially when I think of Billy, most of all, I'll remember that I was never alone-even when I wandered places I had no business going. I guess that's the true benefit of hindsight- 1 can see my friend, my pop, clearly without question one of the greatest blessings in my life, forever a true friend.
For me, for those of us who loved him so dearly who are still here, the music plays on and in every chorus, every verse, every song, his voice is there, and will always be there.
