Joey Brill was Pete’s age and a classmate. Just then a boy a little larger than Pete strode by, his hands thrust deep in his pockets. “Is your father really going to fly that glider without an engine?” seven-year-old Donna Martin asked. Then Pete and his friend Dave helped to carry the wings and lay them down on either side of the fuselage. Smiling, they joined the excited youngsters watching the men pull the fuselage onto the lawn beside the garage. Pam had fluffy golden hair, which blew about in the breeze as she skidded to a halt and stepped off her bicycle. Pete was a sturdy boy with blond hair and clear blue eyes. Just then bicycle tires squealed, and Pete and Pam zoomed into the driveway.
Now he was going to assemble it on his property. The children’s father was a flying enthusiast and had built a sailplane himself in the huge garage behind his store. This was a hardware, toy and sports shop in downtown Shoreham. He was followed by Indy Roades, who helped him in the Trading Post. Hollister, tall, broad-shouldered and grinning like a boy. The four-year-old had been inside playing with her dolls but at that moment she flung open the front screen door to scamper out as fast as her chubby legs would carry her.Īs she reached the truck, down stepped Mr. They had gone on a bicycle errand for their mother. Pete, the oldest, was twelve, and Pam, ten, was next in line. There were three more Hollister children. He added, “Hey, where are the rest of the kids?” “Oh boy, it’s really neat!” called out twelve-year-old Dave Mead. “I’m going to fly in it when the wings are on,” Holly said. Several neighborhood children skipped behind as the load turned into the driveway.
On it was a long airplane fuselage, and inside the truck were the two wings. Ricky and Holly reached the curb to see a pickup truck pulling a boat trailer. The Hollister house stood between Pine Lake and Shoreham Road. “Oh,” said Holly and raced after him, her pigtails flying. “Not there, silly,” said red-headed Ricky, who was seven. “Where?” his six-year-old sister Holly asked, looking up into the blue summer sky. “HERE comes Daddy’s sailplane,” shouted Ricky Hollister as he ran across the lawn. If you’re curious about the story, here’s a sneak peak at Chapter One: The Lost Letter. Collectors have noted prices of $150 and more for a single copy! (By comparison, more than 200,000 copies of the first volume were sold through retail outlets, i.e., not including book club sales.) Accordingly, fewer people have read this book than others in the series, and the hardcover books have become increasingly difficult to find. It also had the smallest print run of all the books in the series and only 6,510 copies were sold. This book was #33, the final volume before the series was discontinued. Today is the 44th anniversary of the original copyright date of The Happy Hollisters and the Mystery of the Midnight Trolls by Jerry West (aka Andrew Svenson).
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