Comings and Goings black umbrella—gave him a somewhat eccentric appearance. Mr. Hemming spent a lot of his retirement time researching the Island, and he drew up masses of maps and documents proving that Prince Edward Island could be an important trade centre. He saw the rich potential the tourist industry held for the Island, not to mention the food industry. Mr. Hemming was a man ahead of his time in com¬ merce, just as Dad was a man ahead of his time in radio. They were kindred spirits and they spent hours in the new office pouring over Mr. Hemming 's charts, documents and statistics. Beth MacLaine Cole, who was Dad 's secretary at the time said, "After hearing Col. Rogers and Mr. Hemming talking, I went home at night with grandiose ideas about our beloved Island. PEI would be the centre of the world! It would happen because Col. Rogers and Mr. Hemming had said so!" When his business allowed him more time to himself, Dad bought a hunting dog, an Irish setter named "Roddy". Roddy had a pedigree that stretched for a whole page, legal size, but for all of that, he was a dog with very little brain. He was affectionate and he was beautiful. His hair was silky fine and burnished red, and when it reached the back of his legs, it curled up in feathery spirals. My father, with great difficulty, taught him to "heel" and he could handle that fairly well, but when it came to fetching partridge from the stubble of a field, or ducks from the slimy weeds along the North Shore inlets, Roddy couldn't seem to get the idea at all. He was sensational though, at fetching things from around the neigh¬ borhood: a toy duck, a left shoe belonging to a little boy, or the dainty pink blanket from a baby carriage. These treasures were carried tenderly in Roddy's mouth and laid proudly at my father's feet. The Irish setter's tail wagged furiously, thumping the floor, while he sat on his haunches and begged approval. Then man and dog, under cover of darkness, would steal around from house to house, putting back the loot. Roddy soon settled in as a mascot around the office, stretching out in front of Dad 's desk and sometimes jumping up on some unwary caller and licking his face. My father was relaxing, but the peace and quiet was only temporary. Problems emerged from the 50,000 watt broadcasting station CBA having been placed in Sackville , New Brunswick by the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. My father always felt that it would jeopardize the operation of CFCY through a loss of audience and a loss of morale. There was also great danger that CFCY would be cut off the network 141