Broadway would have called him a sockeroo. He would have had a radio spot, performing more astounding feats on the fiddle than Alec Templeton's on the piano. He would have found a way of getting the jitterbug trade as well as the longhairs. Hollywood would have carpentered movies to fit his gaunt, satanic countenance, his lean frame, his wild dark hair which he did up in curlpapers.
As it was, pious folk a century ago believed that Nicolo Paganini was in league with the Devil; some swore they had seen Old Nick at the Italian...
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