Devouring public media daily to discover the best
Random header image... Refresh for more!

Remembering Ian Docherty

by Graham Griffith

Ian Docherty

Eight summers ago, Ian Docherty and I hashed out a series of paper pilots.  We were getting ready to revamp One Union Station, a news-talk program then in its infancy that aired out of WRNI-Providence–then a part of the WBUR Group.  At the time, Ian was constantly baffled as to why the American media was ignoring the Islamic fundamentalist regime that ruled Afghanistan–the Taliban.  It was an example of what Ian liked to call a “shark fin” story.  It kept popping above the surface, ever so briefly, and clearly there was something under the water that needed closer observation.  “Let’s pull that shark out and see what the bloody thing is up to, shall we?” he would say.  So we made one of the lead stories of our paper piloting an analysis of the Taliban’s larger aims, and the potential for terrorist threats coming from Afghanistan.  This was August, 2001.

Since Ian had left BBC Scotland to work with WBUR earlier in 2001, he had a tremendous influence on myself and other producers.  Ian was unlike any journalist we had worked with, and he came with a great deal of mystery.  He wore a black suit every day, and presented a deliberate, somber persona.  He was difficult to understand, literally–given his belnded Irish and Scottish accent, and figuratively–you never knew for sure whether he was going to offer you his hip flask or quiz you on global matters and stare you down out of the corner of his eyes until you answered.  His style did not work for everyone, and he was hard to get to know in brief interaction.  But working closely with him, I soon realized that Ian was the consummate true believer.  Journalism, to him, was of the utmost importance to humanity, and his probing curiosity drove him in every pursuit.

In the aftermath of the 9-11 attacks, Ian helped me develop the Special Coverage programming for WBUR and NPR that would eventually morph into On Point.  His prescience that August meant that he and I had already educated ourselves on Afghanistan and Islamic terrorism of that time.  We were as prepared as we could be to create programming that would help people try to make sense out of what was seemingly senseless.  As I worked with producers, Ian worked with the talented-but new to radio-worldly journalist Tom Ashbrook and taught him some of the basics of “presenting radio.”

Today Ian is being laid to rest in Edinburgh.  He had been battling poor health for some time now, and yet his death comes as a shock to so many who knew him.  His work in American public radio was too brief, in my eyes.  I had always hoped to bring him back to work on another project.  But I will have to settle for listening to the work of those producers he influenced–and keep my eyes open for the shark fin.

  • dominicblack
    I've thought for several weeks about writing a comment here, and couldn't quite figure out what to say. But Anna Bensted below summed up many of my feelings too, from the pang I felt when seeing Ian's picture here, to a feeling of having done nothing to ease what seemed to be a difficult time in his life latterly.

    It's impossible to overestimate Ian's role in my own professional life - without his friendship and help (and that of several others) I'd never have managed to hold on to a job in the BBC at all. From the pre-board (BBC lingo for an interview) coaching over pints of Guinness at the corner of the Abbotsford to a full-on mock interview for which he insisted I wear the actual tie I intended to wear on the day, he had me in great fighting shape by the time – to use one of his favorite borrowings – 'the game was afoot'. I got the job the day after my father died – my father who had been in decline for several months, and who I visited a few weeks before thanks to a generous loan from Ian, which was offered on condition that I bring him back a bottle of poteen – which I did. We drank it one afternoon in Room 212 of Queen Street, passing capfuls across the computer monitors between us, laughing about the general idiocy of everything in the world, including ourselves, and conjuring up thousands of fabulous ideas for radio documentaries, quiz shows, dramas and sports programs, none of which ever made it past the tail end of that afternoon.

    Ian was many things besides a generous and infuriating mentor (he'd regularly bound into the office when I was in the middle of something important (like reading the paper) with a 'Mr Black, get me a number for Boutros Boutros Ghali, Secretary General of the U-N-I-T-E-D N-A-T-I-O-N-S'.) He was the only person I've ever heard use the word 'calumny' in the flow of everyday conversation, in reference to some of the many BBC managerial machinations which caused him such frustration (amongst them the commissioning process which Ian often characterised as being like the movie The Culpepper Cattle Company – 'A man trying to get his cows from Point A to Point B in the face of seemingly endless obstacles'). He was someone who believed in the importance of what radio was about and who had a real gift for bringing the best out of you. He was a great generous, kind, pain in-the-arse spirit; a laugher, a huffer, a two fingered typer and – as he signed the copy of Grassic Gibbons' works which he gave me on his leaving the BBC - 'because I know you'll never read it' – a friend. I will always be grateful to him.
  • Elizabeth_Clark
    I still have the script of the first edition of The Usual Suspects I produced back in March, 1994. Pat Kane was presenting and amongst the guests was the brilliant Janice Galloway. Sitting quietly at the back of the cubicle was my mentor Ian. At the end of the show, he simply handed me his annotated script, scribbled with words of encouragement. What I learned from Ian and indeed the other Usual Suspects, many of them present here in these blog comments, paved the way for my radio career. It was a production team like no other.

    More recently, in my work with Radio Scotland's archive Zones, I was keen to revisit those fabulous feature series such as Kane Over America and Dollar Signs but had trouble tracking some of them down. One call to Ian and they were delivered to the BBC, along with many, many more of his programmes which he had stashed away in his Edinburgh attic. Thank goodness they're all safely archived now and being heard again.
  • 1bodo1
    I knew Ian a lonf time ago when he was a bookseller with Waterstones and I was a rep with Harper Collins. He was a good friend and a very professional bookseller.

    We lost contact soon after he joined the BBC but I will always remember him.
  • Anna Bensted
    Over the years I would often pick up the phone late at night and hear Ian, all gruffness and mock-cockney accent, bark “Allo Annaah.” It would make me smile. To know that I am not going to hear that greeting again makes me incredibly sad. When I heard the news of his death, I don’t think I truly believed it. Ian was always there with stories and ideas (some a little over the top, others magnificently insightful.) He was always there with a deep and consistent friendship. So how could he be gone? Seeing his photo at the top of this page and the memories below brings it home and reminds me of just what we have lost.

    I worked with Ian at BBC Scotland in the nineties, at the Usual Suspects and on series we did about the US - Kane Over America, the Bostonians and more. I would bring him reams of tape and he was brilliant at working on it. He had a finely tuned ear for what mattered in the material and he was magic at mixing it with verve and originality. He also loved to talk about how good it all was. In an industry where we tend to say how much better we could be “If only………”, his joy and pride in our work together was a real treat.

    When I moved to the US from Scotland and needed to find a producer that could make a mark here in the US, Ian was my first choice. The very fact that he was ready to up sticks and move here indicated a brave spirit with a wide-ranging intellectual curiosity. He’d rather burn his boats than get stuck in a rut. Once he was here he gained the nickname Commander Docherty. It wasn’t just because of the heavy military greens and blacks he wore - even in the sultry heat of the Boston summers - it was his infectious confidence. Start a new national program over a weekend, challenge the status quo about what could be produced in radio - if Ian thought it worth doing, he would lead the charge.

    Ian was wonderfully loyal. My heart sinks at the thought of what I didn’t do when he went through difficult times. It sinks even further at the thought that Commander Docherty is not going to call again with a magnificent story.
  • markmaclachlan
    Graham,

    I am truly saddened to read about Ian's death. A friend who worked with Ian on 'Movies and Shakers' sent me his obituary from today's Scotsman.

    http://news.scotsman.com/obituaries/Ian-Dochert...

    He was one of the finest people I ever met, witty, a razor sharp intellect a deep understanding of the world and an eye for qualities in people that most of us miss..

    I remember him and David Sillars coming down to stay with us in Galloway during the Wigtown book festival. The loose plan was for them to take Alastair Reid back up to St Andrews to do a radio piece on Alastair's life and travels. The assignment was done, but only after we drank in every pub that Wigtown had to offer. He even cooked a great meal for us, as recompense for draining my supply of Bladnoch whisky.... Our youngest son, a baby at the time, took a shine to him, and proceeded to crawl all over him, an abiding memory is of the awkward Ian, handing Arran back to me at arms length mumbling something, in wicked rp tones about a full nappy!

    Farewell friend. Much cantucci e vin santo is to be consumed in your memory.
  • davebatchelor
    Ian and I worked together on the Usual Suspects - his first broadcasting job in fact - and then we shared an attic office in BBC Edinburgh's Queen street building for a number of years till he left for Boston.

    The serious radio man has been celebrated but he was also someone who loved mischief particularly in the pursuit of a serious purpose.

    Though he sounded as if he came from the heart of the home counties he was a committed if a little ironic nationalist. In the weeks following the result of the devolution referendum he took great delight in answering phone calls from his BBC masters in London by singing them a few bars of 'flo'or o' Sco'lan' as a live ringtone before replying in his fruitiest Received Pronounciation.

    He was also instrumental in forming Radio Scotland In Exile, a response to BBC Scotland's failure to appoint a head of Radio Scotland, leaving the station to the tender and occasional mercies of television. RSIE had the greater part of it's existence in the pub, a place which Ian regarded as having a vital role in creative radio.

    Walk straight ahead through the door of the Abbotsford pub in Edinburgh's Rose street, past the first corner of the bar, pause at the second and you stand where Ian held court and where an extraordinary number of good radio programme ideas were generated. Order a pint of Deuchers IPA and drink to an old fashioned programme maker - no higher praise.
  • patkane
    Dear Graham

    All power to Google for bringing me to this blog. I just attended a characteristically disputatious and bibulous wake in Edinburgh's The Oxford Bar for Ian. I worked with Ian for about four years in the mid-nineties, as a presenter both on the regular and expansive arts-and-ideas series, the Usual Suspects, and on two major series on America, Kane Over America and Dollar Signs (the former winning a Sony Award for Radio Journalism). It's not an understatement to say that all of these projects were centrally driven by Ian - his super-sharp intellect and anti-establishment sensibilities; his extremely high standards for, and belief in, the power of serious radio; and his combination of infuriating irascibility and strong personal loyalty to those who shared his vision for the medium. Like everyone else here, the news of his loss induces a particular jab of pain. We call his type in Scotland a "makar" - someone who makes great cultural opportunities possible.

    Your story about Ian's prescience in August 2001 about terror threats from Afghanistan I can echo. When we did our show Kane Over America in late 1994, Ian was very keen for us to push hard on an NRA representative in Oklahoma - "try and find out their militia ambitions, what their attitude to the Federal government is". I duly did a particularly chilling interview - and a few months later, at the government buildings ... Partly through background and through interest, Ian had one of the best geopolitical sensibilities I've ever known - many people confirmed that at the Oxford Bar wake.

    And one last, sad-sweet synchronicity. I was bemoaning the poor quality of post-Docherty Scottish radio at the wake, and praising a show that I have on twice daily pod-cast from WBUR, with a focussed and commanding presenter called Tom Ashcroft, called ... On Point. A chorus replied: Ian founded that show!! Which you now confirm here. We'd all want our legacy to demonstrate that kind of persistent quality of approach, inspiring others to do the same or better. Rest in Process, Mr Docherty.
  • nickjury
    you were my friend. wherever you are, thank you - belgrade rules my friend, belgrade rules -
  • angusmacinnes
    I too am reeling from Ian's demise. He was 'my producer' at the BBC in Edinburgh where we did a couple of lovely projects including Mr America in the Movies and a series on Femme Fatales. When he left the Beeb and headed to the States I was bereft, but not nearly in the way I am now. A few months ago he approached me about writing a mystery thriller for television and he kept hinting that this was his 'last project'. We met a few weeks ago here in Edinburgh and he dragged me through a strange graveyard and then on to the Oxford Bar to soak up the 'atmosphere'. He kept alluding cryptically to his health but refused to go into detail and for that I could kick him. He was all of the things Graham describes and more, puzzling, infuriating and challenging. He made me rise to the bait and made me crazy and for that I thank him. He was a friend and I'll miss his unique madness. I'll write your thriller Ian. I owe 'ya.
  • carolynbecket
    Ian was a good friend and former colleague at the BBC. As a radio producer in Scotland he won more network commissions than anyone before or since and I was privileged to work on some of those he did not have time to make himself. He created two long lasting strands for Radio Scotland - 'Movers and Shakers' and 'Cover Stories'. The latter, which focussed on books and publishing, was often presented by Ian with me in the producer's role. On a personal level I will miss the long, rambling, stimulating conversations we had, his irony and his wicked sense of humour. His Scottish friends are meeting on Thursday August 6th in the Oxford Bar in Edinburgh - if we can all fit in to Ian's favourite watering hole!
  • robinyoung
    Graham, thank you so much for letting us know about Ian.

    The stories are legion ( Karyn and Alex just shared that when he first
    arrived from London there was a mix up on his hotel room so when they came in for the morning edition shift they discovered him sleeping on ths station stoop. No doubt, in his black suit. It probably also was that he just wanted to get in and get going)

    To his family, we're so sorry for your loss.

    Robin Young, WBUR
  • Gordon Docherty
    You are at home now. You are at peace. You can see the school gates. You can see our old home. Our parents are with you. Your friends are close by. You are always in my heart. God bless.

    'til we meet again,

    missing you loads.

    your younger brother,

    Gordon
  • Defoe13
    Thanks, Graham. A good and characteristic account of Ian's M.O., and one that i shall keep as part of my many good memories of this remarkable man.
blog comments powered by Disqus