Roger McAllister always wore the same clothes on Canadian TV as he did when exploring back rooms, attics, basements and barns: a Savile Row suit, a yellow paisley bow tie, round horn-rimmed eyeglasses, and colorfully mismatched socks. In 1992, McAllister, an appraiser of rare books based in Victoria, British Columbia, discovered that the image of a slightly distracted dandy, cultivated so carefully in his daily business, worked just as well on an author's tour. In that year, McAllister published The Song of Henry: A Modern English Translation of the Heinrichlied, Germany's Forgotten National Epic. The book jacket described the The Song of Henry as "a vigorous and sometimes bawdy account of the reign of Holy Roman Emperor Henry IV, who beat back the pernicious influence of the Catholic Church and forged the kingdom that became modern Germany." In numerous interviews and live appearances McAllister told reporters and book buyers the same intriguing story: how his translation was based, in turn, on an unpublished 19th century German translation of the now-lost 11th century verse; how he had discovered the German manuscript among the possessions of Jakob Josephson, a leader of Victoria's Jewish community; and how McAllister still felt a bond with the Josephson family, a deep bond, a bond of affection, fellowship and respect.
With a sigh, McAllister would tell his audience how much he hoped, and yes, prayed, that the bond between himself and the Josephson family would somehow survive the recent legal problems.
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