Paul Levine

Paul Andrew Levine 12/5/60-6/13/20

Dear friends and family of Paul Levine. I know this is ridiculously late. I could blame Covid, or the inability to arrange even a simple funeral or memorial for Paul on being overwhelmed, or a myriad of other excuses. But that is not helpful, and I have no idea how or why I neglected to do my cultural ritualistic responsibility of saying goodbye to Paul. So if "better late than never" is true, let's hope it applies here.

Paul maintained his dark sense of humor and appreciation for irony to the end, and, to his credit, his daughter Gina also has this talent, in spades. He is missed. Now that this year is ending, here is his obituary, written shortly after his death but never published or spoken. If this late entry offends anyone out there, I am sorry. I f there are others out there who are in a similar situation, I get it. Don't beat yourself up. We're all doing the best we can.

Paul Levine - luthier

In the Spring of 1991, I walked into McCabe's Guitar Store to inquire about guitar lessons. As I waited for help I saw Paul, a young guy in shorts with a full head of curly hair in a ponytail. A spontaneous jam broke out with a couple of music teachers, a guy working in the repair shop, and a customer. It went on for about 15 minutes and after each song, all of us in the shop clapped and egged them all on to continue. Paul and I small-talked and smiled in between songs. I signed up for lessons and as I saw Paul walk out of the store I followed him. "How often do they play music like that here?" I asked him. He said he'd been coming to the store for years and never saw that happen. We both went to McCabes for lessons or just to shop for the next 30 years, I never saw it happen again. I like to think that day was meant to be. That music somehow brought us together. We talked on Pico Blvd. and Paul, as I would learn was always his way, was encouraging and kind. He said I should give the lessons a chance, he was sure I'd be able to learn to play the guitar. I gave him my number and thus began our relationship. 30 years, two golden retrievers, several careers, and an unbelievably interesting 22 year old daughter later we both talked about that day in McCabe's in awe. Paul continued lessons with his mentor and friend Pete Snell to the very end. I suspect Paul was a pretty good guitarist. I took lessons for 2 years from Dave Zeitlan, an angel. But I never practiced and never really learned to play. Still, every minute was worth it.

Music was always part of Paul's life, whether doing his weekly jams with his buddies or calming his baby and later grown-up daughter. Nothing was better than to hear Paul and our toddler singing "Here Comes the Sun" or "Mud on the Tires" as Paul played the guitar. Magical.

When I first met Paul he was a movie trailer editor. It seemed a good fit as he was SO picky! A real perfectionist and he loved movies. Though he always enjoyed his colleagues, it wasn't really what he wanted to do. He had a lot of guts and tried various endeavors. He made a low-budget movie, dabbled in the stock market (that was a real bust in 2008!), created a powdered chai ("The Best Chai Ever" - and it was!), coached inner-city soccer, and finally, a dozen or so years ago began studying to be a luthier. It was a perfect fit. He loved it. He took classes, and studied it like a scientist but mixed it with an artistic eye. Paul was always humble, so a few years into it, when he began saying "I think this one sounds pretty good" I knew it was his way of saying "This is a good guitar, I'm proud of it". Being his own harshest critic, I suspect that was a pretty good sign.

There were a lot of lovely, endearing things about Paul. He was exceedingly generous - if he didn't have money, he'd give his time. He was supportive, he loved his family and friends, and was supremely loyal. He gave people the benefit of the doubt and saw the best in them. He was a good guy.

Paul was diagnosed with stomach cancer in June of 2019. We both knew it was an uphill battle, but I think we both thought he'd beat it. He said that his cancer, even if he didn't get a cure, wasn't a tragedy. He said he had a great life and knew he was lucky - he just wished he "could have a little more". I wish the same. But he was right. He was lucky and so am I. He lived his life, tried out new things, appreciated his friends and loved ones, was delighted over a good movie, and always had music. Not too shabby.

I've talked to others who have lost loved ones. Many have the same feeling I have, which is in some ways they are not just "gone". Souls do leave a legacy, whether it be a written note, a drawing or doodle, the smile on their child's face, or in Paul's case, all of those completed and several partly made guitars and many unused pieces of beautiful wood. Paul would have wanted to use every piece - nothing left to waste. In his memory, I believe nothing would make him happier than to somehow place these things, along with a whole workshop of tools with people that can not only finish what he started but continue a "luthier life" of their own and benefit from him. I know if we can do that he'll be smiling down upon us all.