Margot Theis Raven

A touch of sweetness 

Houston Chronicle

Helen Eriksen, correspondent

Fielder librarian hosts pilot, award-winning youth author.

Fielder Elementary pupils recently got to meet an award-winning children's author and the pilot who is the subject of her story.

Fielder Elementary School librarian Barbara Jinkins is one of 10 representatives statewide serving on the 2003 Texas Blue-bonnet Award book committee.

Learning of the collaboration between Margot Theis Raven, whose Mercedes and the Chocolate Pilot is one of 20 books up for the award, and pilot Lt. Gail Halvorsen, Jinkins worked to bring the two of them to the school.

During his participation in the Berlin Airlift, Halvorsen dropped more than 20 tons of candy and gum from the sky tied to parachutes made from white handkerchiefs. This mission became known as "Operation Little Vittles."

The airlift was a humanitarian effort orchestrated by British and American forces to fly in food and essential supplies to more than 2.2 million people in bombed-out West Berlin, Germany, when the Russians shut off ground routes in 1948.

Raven, known for writing children's books based on historical events, learned about Halvorsen and his "sweet mission" while she was doing research for another World War II book. Captivated by the story, Raven decided to contact Halvorsen in 1999 when his name kept popping up in sidebars, and he readily agreed to work with her.

"He is like Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and Willy Wonka all rolled up into one," Raven said. "And he is a hero."

Pupils in grades 3-5 had the opportunity to talk to Raven and hear firsthand Halvorsen's account of events.

The story shows how the Cold War impacted children and through Halvorsen's efforts, how he not only provided nourishment but also gave them a reason to hope for a better world.

"It's the little things in life that shape your destiny," Halvorsen said.

"It might have seemed like something small but it was a big treat for them (the West Berlin children)," said third-grader Timothy Vanoostendorp.

The story involves Mercedes, a 7-year-old girl who tends to the white chickens in her yard. One morning, her mother reads about Halvorsen and his dropping candy in airfields. Mercedes goes to the airfield, and just as a piece of candy is headed her way, some boy reaches out and grabs it. She then sent Halvorsen a letter asking for a special delivery, "When you fly over the garden and see the white chickens, please drop some candy there and all will be OK."

Halvorsen, unable to find her house, sent a package in the mail filled with candies and gum. Mercedes and Halvorsen met two decades later and share an enduring friendship.

Now a colonel, 82 year-old Halvorsen is known even to this day as the "candy bomber" for the touch of sweetness he gave to the children of West Berlin who suffered loss during the war.

Jinkins said through participating in the living history event, pupils gained a greater appreciation of freedom. She also showed pupils a video from the History Channel about the Berlin Airlift, which included a 10-minute segment featuring Halvorsen, who provided original footage from movies he took.

The pupils, wanting to impress Halvorsen with what they learned, presented the Utah resident with the first Fielder Freedom Award in recognition of his efforts to promote and preserve good will and freedom.

Pupils in grades 3-6 are allowed to participate in the Texas Bluebonnet Award voting, to be held in January, if they have read at least five of the 20 books on the list, Jinkins said. This year the list was narrowed down from 387 titles, said Jinkins, and the winner will be announced in February.

Raven won the Children's Choice Award in 2003 for Mercedes and the Chocolate Pilot, the Teacher's Choice Award in 1997 for Angels in the Dust and the James Madison Award, given for excellence in history telling. Raven recently completed a book titled, Circle Unbroken, about African basket weaving due to be released soon.

Fielders Freedom Essay Contest participants were invited to meet Col. Gail Halvorsen, and children's author Margot Theis Raven, in the school library. Raven discussed her book, Mercedes and the Chocolate Pilot: A True Story of the Berlin Airlift and the Candy that Dropped from the Sky and Halvorsen taught students how to make candy parachutes. He used a white handkerchief tied with household string, inserted the string through holes in each of the four corners and tied it. Then he folded the handkerchief into a ball and tied the string around it and tied the candy to the end of the string.  

Copyright 2003 Houston Chronicle

MERCEDES AND THE CHOCOLATE PILOT

A True Story of the Berlin Airlift and the Candy That Dropped from the Sky

Read by Barbara McCulloh

When early events of the Cold War caused a time of dire need for the people of West Berlin in 1948-49, it was the "sky bridge" that brought a lifeline of supplies to the city. From her backyard, young Mercedes watches as American aircraft approach the airfield. Pilots could not know that the noise prevents her chickens from laying or that joyful children delight in the sweet treats wrapped in miniature parachutes that one particular pilot is dropping. All changes on the day that Mercedes writes a letter. Barbara McCulloh is respectful of the history presented in this book. She narrates Mercedes as a child wise beyond her years and yet one who is childlike in her excitement about the candy drops. The tension between Mercedes and her mother is palpable in each voice. The final meeting is a quiet time for appreciation and reflection.

A.R. (c) AudioFile Magazine 2004, Portland, Maine OCT/ NOV 04

  The Dallas Morning News (TX)

 November 12, 2003  

Jean Nash Johnson; Staff Writer

Lessons in Chocolate

A Dallas school gets a taste of history with a re-creation of the Berlin Airlift

Under a deep-gray November sky with pushy winds, more than 550 students from Nathan Adams Elementary in North Dallas lined up eagerly on one side of the school's soccer field for a spirit rally.

With a nod from principal Jean McGill, the children began deafening chants of "U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!" The stronger voices of sixth-graders competed with the high-pitched yells of pre-K and kindergarten kids, as the rest tried to hold their own.

They were outdoors to celebrate the entire school's completion of reading Mercedes and the Chocolate Pilot by Margot Theis Raven (Sleeping Bear Press, $17.95). The students love reading. So last month, when librarian Marleen Allen learned that the book was a Mrs. G's Book Club selection, she, Ms. McGill and the teachers plotted to turn the assignment into a real-life learning experience.

November is the month to give thanks and to honor veterans, especially during a year when the country has been at war. Mercedes, nominated this year for the Texas Library Association's Bluebonnet award, is about a West Berlin girl during the 1948-49 airlifts and the pilot who organized candy drops for the kids as a symbol of hope after war.

This month is a good time to draw a connection to the true story of 7-year-old Mercedes Simon, who had missed out on the candy drops in her West Berlin neighborhood, Ms. Allen said. The girl writes to the chocolate pilot about her disappointment, and her letter creates a lasting bond between the two. The book details post-World War II Germany and the pivotal Berlin Airlift, a U.S. and British humanitarian mission to relieve West Berliners under siege by Joseph Stalin.

At Nathan Adams, the students stood in anticipation despite the threat of rain. They had a growing hunch that something was up - in the sky, maybe.

"I think the chocolate pilot might be coming," said kindergartner Caroline Ferreri, 5, glancing in the air.

Little ones dreamed big, and older students reflected on the big picture.

"When I read the book, I thought it was a cool book. At first, I thought the children were happy because of the candy, but then I realized that they were happy because someone cared about them," said fifth-grader Dylann Gumpert, 11.

It wasn't about the candy, insisted Elisa Sanders, 10. The sixth-grader said she learned a lot about that period in history.

"The Americans were generous enough to give the German people what they needed. So it was about good character, good heart and, well, I don't know, just showing who we are as Americans."

As parents discreetly positioned camcorders and cameras, PTA volunteers who had helped orchestrate the assembly prayed for good weather. The rain held off, but the forceful wind whipped through little ones who had formed a line that wrapped halfway around the field.

Teachers tried to keep their classes calm. Ms. McGill led them in singing the Nathan Adams spirit song. In the middle of the song, a whirling sound began to drown out the melody, and faces stared up in awe.

A rented chopper swirled overhead. Little blue and white parachutes with dangling Hershey chocolate bars rained from the sky, and the children poured onto the open area, hands reaching out.

But the wind blew even harder, scattering much of the candy to the top of the school's roof. A few of the bigger kids retrieved some prizes. The looks of disappointment were hard to bear, particularly those from the third-graders.

Third-graders really bonded with the story, Ms. Allen said. "They're at the perfect age to fully grasp what happened to Mercedes and not be cynical about it."

A trio of 8-year-old boys had lunged into the sea of little bodies, but one came up empty-handed. Freckle-faced Cameron McVay was almost in tears. "I ran, and I couldn't get there."

For classmates Chancellor Malone and Adrian Dickson, it was all in the timing. Holding up his candy bar, Chancellor proclaimed, "This is the luckiest day of my life."

Adrian agreed, giving some credit to the story that inspired the whole thing. "I saw the candy falling, just like in the book, and then I just ran for it, and it came right into my hands."

The bigger kids obviously had the advantage. Sixth-grader Ashley Campos, 12, had grabbed one of the parachutes, but after spotting a crying third-grader, decided to give away her catch. "She was so sad, so I told my friends I should give it to her."

Chopper pilot Panos Karpidas of Summit Helicopter in Addison tried again. He angled farther south to compensate for the wind, hoping that his co-pilot, Elizabeth Farrell, could make a bull's-eye with the rest of the load. (The school's 17 reading teachers had prepared 600 mini-parachutes.) But the results were almost the same. A third attempt was a bit more successful, but it was clear that the weather would impede a direct strike.

"Wouldn't you know," said one teacher, "we've had beautiful sunny days before this."

Less than half the candy was dumped before the pilot decided to abort the mission, afraid that the wind would entangle the parachutes in the helicopter's tail, causing an accident.

Try to explain that to the children. Second-graders Jemima Essien and Priscilla Chavez, both 8, complained that they had been pushed as they competed for candy. The girls settled down a bit when a Nathan Adams dad, Michael Kelly, climbed to the roof to retrieve candy for kids who had missed out.

Kindergartner Matea Villarreal, 5, who was struggling with the Band-Aid covering a fresh boo-boo from recess, watched all the scurrying for the rooftop tosses. After explaining her knee scrape, she said, "I knew the chocolate pilot would come."

But what about not getting any candy? "It's OK, because I like the story."

It may have been OK for Matea, but Kathy O'Hara's pre-K class wasn't standing for it.

As soon as they returned to their classroom portable, it was clear the kids were not happy. No candy? A bummer when you're 4.

"We got no candy," said Jayla Nelson, 4, with a serious pout.

"But remember, Mercedes didn't get any candy, either, and what did she do? She wrote a letter to the chocolate pilot. And that's what we should do," said Mrs. O'Hara.

They did, and they asked him to come back when the big kids weren't around.

Lucky for them, dad Joel Hopper returned to school the next day dressed as a pretend military pilot, delivering candy to the students who had been left out.

"We could not have scripted this more perfectly," said Ms. Allen.

Copyright 2003 The Dallas Morning News

 The Arizona Daily Star (Tucson, AZ)

June 12, 2008  

Bonnie-Henry

Two sticks of chewing gum would change his life while brightening the lives of thousands of children in postwar Berlin.

Sixty years ago this month, the Berlin Airlift took to the skies after the Soviet Union blockaded West Berlin in hopes the United States and its allies would abandon the city.

By the time the airlift ended in September of 1949, more than 2 million tons of goods had been delivered to a still-free West Berlin.

Ret. Col. Gail Halvorsen was one of hundreds of American pilots who took part in that airlift. But he was the only one who thought to drop candy earning him the title of the Berlin Candy Bomber.

Dropped from ordinary handkerchiefs fashioned into parachutes, the candy was aimed at West Berlin's children, who waited to spot Halvorsen's descending plane among the hundreds of others landing each day.

"I wiggled my wings. That's how they knew it was me," says Halvorsen, 87, who now spends the winter months in Amado.

What began as a one-man effort dubbed "Operation Little Vittles" soon escalated, with Halvorsen's buddies giving up their candy rations and handkerchiefs to the cause.

Then the National Confectioners Association joined in, sending tons of candy and gum to Westover Air Force Base in Chicopee, Mass.

The town's schoolchildren started making the parachutes, adding the goodies and sending them all along to Rhein-Main Air Force Base near Frankfurt, West Germany.

Until the airlift ended, Halvorsen's squad and others dropped 20 tons of candy over the city of West Berlin.

For his humanitarian efforts he received the Cheney Award. In later years he would pen a book, aptly named "The Candy Bomber," now in its third printing.

He's given interviews to CNN and to former NBC anchor Tom Brokaw.

And he's re-enacted the candy drops at more than 100 air shows and events over the years everywhere from Puerto Rico to Guam, Bosnia to Berlin, where this month he'll once again take part in anniversary celebrations.

He's also met hundreds of adults who remember the drops as children, including a little girl named Mercedes.

"She had sent a letter in November of 1948 saying she was not getting any candy over her apartment house and the airplanes were scaring her chickens. She said she didn't care. She wanted me to fly over and look for the white chickens. I flew over, but could not see them, so I mailed the candy to her later."

Years later, he and a grown-up Mercedes and her family were reunited.

Out of this lasting friendship would come a best-selling children's book by Margot Theis Raven, "Mercedes and the Chocolate Pilot."

Yet when the airlift began, Halvorsen, a transport pilot in World War II, had doubts about aiding a former enemy doubts that evaporated with his first airlift of flour.

"The people were just so grateful," says Halvorsen, who in the beginning flew three round trips a day in a lumbering C-54 from Rhein-Main to Tempelhof Air Force Base in West Berlin, where the goods were unloaded.

Two weeks after the airlift began, he met 30 kids or so at a barbed-wire fence next to Tempelhof. Rather than beg for food, the kids, says Halvorsen, were just grateful for the flour and other staples.

He pulled two sticks of gum out of his pocket all that he had broke it into four pieces and passed it through the barbed wire.

Those who didn't get the gum took pieces of the wrappers, inhaling the aroma. Nobody fought over the gum. Or begged.

Touched, Halvorsen promised to return with more candy the following week, telling the children to look for his wiggling wings. "I flew and my engineer dropped the parachutes down a flare chute behind the pilot's seat."

And so the candy drops began, once a week, from his plane. Then mail started arriving addressed to "Uncle Wiggly Wings." Someone wrote a newspaper story.

"I quit for two weeks. I thought I would be in trouble," says Halvorsen. Now he had two weeks' rations of candy. What to do? He made another drop.

His commanding officer read him the riot act. Someone with even more rank thought it was a good idea.

And so the candy drops continued and escalated, even after Halvorsen was reassigned in January of 1949.

"Altogether, we dropped more than 250,000 parachutes," says Halvorsen, who would return to Tempelhof in 1970 as its commanding officer.

After retiring in 1974, he became assistant dean of student life at Brigham Young University, and later served two Mormon missions.

Widowed in 1999, he is now remarried and spends his summers in Utah. He still flies a C-54 over candy drops here and there and also pilots his own single-engine Remos.

Remembering the Berlin of 60 years ago, Halvorsen says, "I did lots of drops that weren't candy. We gave the people flour and dried eggs and dried potatoes. But the candy gave them hope."

 The Dallas Morning News (TX)

 October 12, 2003  

Jean Nash Johnson

MRS. G's BOOK CLUB

One simple letter of request from 7-year-old German girl to a American pilot in 1948 Germany made a world of difference. Her true story is told in Mercedes and the Chocolate Pilot (Sleeping Bear Press, $17.95) by Margot Theis Raven, and Mrs. G hopes that this book will inspire readers 8 to 12.

Why not read Mercedes' story and write your own letter? It could be a call for your school principal to help with an art supply drive for kids who can't afford their own. Or a letter to your congressman in Washington about a bigger problem. Texas Living will publish the best letters, and some of the readers and letter writers will discuss the book at the next get-together.

 Copyright 2003 The Dallas Morning News