It is my considerable pleasure to have known Pinky Hull for the past two years. With a bit of a Durante air and the warmth of a human being who genuinely loves other human beings, Pinky's company is always a delight. His energy and friendliness tells me that I really missed something by not catching his shows at the Shamrock Hotel where he made frequent appearances, including during their final hours of operation.

Pinky tells a good story, too. One of my favorites is about his first professional engagement as a piano player. Nineteen-year-old Pinky was filled with self-importance at having captured such a prestigious position in a very posh club in Galveston. After two days of wholeheartedly pounding the ivories for his appreciative audience, he discovered his entertainment was not the main attraction, but rather it was the entertainment of the lovely ladies who periodically disappeared behind the drapes with the gentlemen patrons. His employer, completely to his surprise, was a bawdy (body?) house during Galveston's heydey as the Las Vegas of the Gulf Coast. Which proves a pound of flesh is worth an ounce of ivory—or something like that.

Pinky's book is a collection of such stories—more a volume of vignettes than a biography. From the foreword by Leon Hale (which includes a pretty good Pinky story told by Hale) to the last tale about playing a gig in the East Texas woods during a "frog strangler" rain, Pinky's book is pure entertainment sure to elicit giggles, guffaws and belly laughs.

After nearly 50 years as a "barroom" entertainer, Pinky Hull has some stories to tell, and that's exactly what he's done in Is There A Leprechaun In The Gazebo? Need a good laugh? Buy his book!