Dermot Bolger

I wouldn't have been surprised if Dorothy's fiddle burst into flames.

Taking a break, he saw I was a stranger and briefly greeted me with great courtesy.

Then he played on until, long after closing time, the woman of the house opened the side door again.

When he rose, the entire bar rose, as if for royalty.

He excused himself, saying he was old and tired.

Nobody sat down until he left the room.

1975 seems like a different world now, but even then, Dorothy's way of life belonged to a different era.

He was born in 1900, into a famous line of fiddlers stretching back to the 1700s.

His father set high standards for his sons, Siamie, Mickey, Hugh and his youngest, John, which caused a gentle rivalry.

Although field recordings of them all exist, John was the most famous.

Yet often he didn't own a fiddle.

From early in life he travelled around the circuit of remote Donegal places, initially walking as a tinsmith and peddler by day.

By night he played and taught music.

At a time when the travelling people were an integral part of the seasonal rural economy, Doherty set lines of delineation about what work he did.

Although proud of his traveller heritage, he was marked apart by music.

To have a Doherty stay in your house was regarded as an honour.

This was before television, when every locality had visiting houses.

Doherty's arrival was a source of intense excitement.

He walked everywhere, borrowing a fiddle in every hamlet.

Ciarán Machna Huna recalled trying to track down the shy Doherty in the 1950s, going from hamlet to hamlet until finally discovering Doherty walking along a lonely mountain road.