Thanks for that wonderful story Vic; we found again and again with singers we recorded that the songs they sang often went far beyond the actual story and had personal significance to their lives, such as this one of Jeannie's had to the death of her son.
We recorded the ballad 'Lord Randal', called by her, 'Buried in Kilkenny', from blind Travelling woman Mary Delaney, a singer with a huge and extremely varied repertoire of narrative songs and ballads.
She always had trouble pitching the song, but we eventually got a good version of it and had stopped asking her to sing it so we could pass on to the rest of her songs.
Mary was blind from birth and had brought up her sixteen children on the road, singing on the streets from an early age to supplement the family income.
When she was camped in East London, she decided to try to get some of the younger children an education, so they managed to persuade the Council to move her into a bleak, half-furnished flat in Hackney.
Unlike on a Traveller site, while the children were in school, she was by herself all day, so, being the sociable lady she was, she became extremely depressed - when we called we were always dragged in and kept for as long as we possibly could stay, just for the company.
One night she was particularly down and she asked us would we record 'Buried in Kilkenny'.
It was one of the most moving performances of any song I have ever heard - she poured all her misery into the singing, you could have walked on the atmosphere she created - it still brings a lump to the throat to recall that night.
Regarding working for the media, I had the opposite experience (sort of) than the one you give from Jeannie's book.
I had been asked to do a last minute interview on folk song for one of the London radio stations, Capital Radio, I think - a friend had chickened out on the morning of the live broadcast and phoned to ask would we take his place, so I grabbed an armful of records and drove to the studio, just off Oxford Street.
It was one of those tiny, pokey little rooms overlooked by a sound studio.
We sorted out half a dozen tracks to play and arranged a running order with the two young engineers.
Throughout the interview, the two lads chatted away in their box and took no real notice of the proceedings, except to respond to my prompts for the next record, right through to the end, for which I had chosen Sam Larner singing 'Butter and Cheese and All'.
The interviewer decided that we were running short of time, so he said he would have to fade out after a couple of verses.
The lads in the sound box put the track on, and it became obvious that they were totally smitten by Sam's singing, and when the signal to fade was given, they waved their hands in refusal, shrugged, and played the track through to the end - a magic moment!
Jim Carroll