Ryan 'Monty' Lamont was born in Dublin on the 1st January, 1900 at a few minutes past midnight.  A 20th century boy, if you like...(channelling a bit of T.Rex...)

Eldest son of Patrick and Niamh Lamont, he was expected to follow his father and take the Bar.  His early years were characterised by privilege, but also a rigid Catholicism and an adherence to social order.

Educated at Castleknock College and later University College, Dublin he displayed a passing competence, if not interest in Theology, Gaelic Studies, Literature and Classics, however it was in Music in which he excelled.

Taking his lead from the relatively kindly Music Master (in that the switch was used sparingly) at school he displayed an aptitude for music, first learning the trumpet then progressing to the clarinet as he excelled at the more difficult pieces.  Although he played more orchestral pieces he was most at home playing chamber music, accompanying piano typically in the rooms of Master Connolly, the aforementioned music teacher.

Ryan was not content to play the pieces of the past and was found looking elsewhere.  Musical tradition and style travelled slowly, but letters from expatriates from the New World spoke of new sounds, and energy and emotion.  Dances changed and music changed.  Ryan purchased sheet music from overseas, taking months to arrive and he learned to play.  It was rare that heavy black discs of shellac arrived on the Emerald Isle, but when they did Ryan devoured them and fell in love.

Ryan's family was relatively wealthy, purchasing him a clarinet which cost more than the annual income of the ordinary working man, rooted in poverty.  His boarding and private education allowed him much time for practice, his Master not approving, nor actively disapproving of the boy's precocious talent.

At 21 Ryan had stumbled through a Law degree (his passions of his teens inflamed by the Easter Rising and the birth of the Free State) and was expected to take the Bar as his father had done before them.

He had dreams however, to follow the music....

With his familial stipend, saved in secret over a number of years Ryan booked his place on the next crossing to America, where the streets were paved with gold....

And then he hit Ellis Island, just another Irish worker, looking for fortune.  Over here he was just another labourer, just another pair of hands.  At any time he could have written home and begged for forgiveness for his indiscretion but he chose stubbornness instead, the stubbornness to follow his dreams, wherever they may take him...