"Freddie Nimble," Frank said, breaking into a broad grin,

"Now that's an entertainer. You know what I'm saying?

An entertainer. You don't see Freddie Nimble

slouching on stage in a t-shirt with a guitar

to sit on a stool in a lonley blue spotlight and sing

songs about how much his soul longs for solace.

Freddie Nimble doesn't whine, or whinge, or wallow.

Freddie Nimble entertains. Freddie Nimble is an

entertainer, and that's what entertainers do. I saw him

once at that charity golf thing he does, the Nimble Pro-Am.

Perfect gentleman. It was just after he'd recorded the theme

song for that ridiculous cop show, Hatch & Nutter. Terrible

show. Terrible. But a terrific theme song. The Pro-Am

was held at Winged Foot, great course, great weather, terrific.

Anyway, I drove back to the city after the game

with Steve and Walt and Tony and Nate and

one of them says, hey, let's swing by the Algonquin,

grab a martini. So we do, and guess who else had the same

idea? That's right, Freddie Nimble. He's at a table

by the piano with Matilda the Cat curled up in his lap.

We walk over and shake his hand and say, you know,

hey, we're big fans, we loved the pro-am, and Freddie,

he couldn't have been nicer. And Tony Spicer, as we're

heading back to our table, he says, hey, Freddie,

maybe you'll sing The Ballad of Hatch and Nutter,

what do you think? And what does Freddie Nimble

do? He stands right up, walks over to the piano,

hums a few bars, plinks out a note or two for

the piano player, then sings the ballad, soup to nuts.

That's Freddie Nimble. That's entertainment."