It doesn't figure--that the gang, flourishing George Dugan's five dollars, can get seven ice cream sodas for seventy cents...

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THE DAY THE GANG GOT RICH

It doesn't figure--that the gang, flourishing George Dugan's five dollars, can get seven ice cream sodas for seventy cents or pretzels for a penny apiece--until a trolley heaves into sight and the nostalgic air takes on an old-time shape. The big splurge--banana splits and comic books and a free-for-all through the town--is potshot, unplotted fun (""They lost Willie Botchka"". . . and found him quite casually in a flower shop): like this pair's very different Elephant Boy, something new is made of something stale. But then it doesn't exactly figure that kids who didn't have a baseball bat would have a tennis racket, or that they would use it instead of a stick, or that given five dollars when the racket's broken, they wouldn't buy a bat. Or that Mr. Grimble, running over the racket through no fault of his own, would hand over five dollars. Nor does one see how the racket got from the last batter to the apron of Mr. Grimble's garage. Loose, which is to the good; slack, which isn't.

Pub Date: Sept. 8, 1970

ISBN: N/A

Page Count: -

Publisher: Viking

Review Posted Online: N/A

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 1, 1970

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