I'm not sure how to spell his name anymore, byt Pinckus Zuckerman lived across the street from us awhile back (before he ran off with Tuesday Weld, but that's another story and none of our business). One night we put on a benefit program to raise money for a well-known folk artist who had been seriously hurt in an automobile crash. It was the very first time our son Robin (then about 15) had ever played fiddle tunes in front of an audience. He didn't know that there, in the front row, was Pinky (as he was called by his friends). After the program, Pinky said "I could show him a way to hold his bow that might be a little less tiring, but as for the bowing technique used for those tunes -- I couldn't do that! And he was dead serious.

Sandy