In 1962, a farmer nicknamed "Johnny Kid" was forced to sell his farm after going bankrupt. Many farmers in nearby villages shared the same fate. Back then, young farmers had many choices. They could sell off their belongings and head to the West Coast, seeking a livelihood in the newly built cities amid the Nevada desert. They could rely on the strong arms forged through years of labor to carve out a place for themselves in that land of guns, liquor, money, and women. Or they could simply hitch a ride north to Canada, leaving their hometown behind as Marilyn Monroe sang "Happy Birthday" to President Kennedy, setting foot in that land the colonists had yet to fully develop.
"Johnny Kid" had no intention of leaving the United States, nor did he plan to go to the Nevada desert. Through connections he had made in elementary school, he contacted a former classmate who had long since left the village and joined a construction crew in a nearby city. Though he knew nothing beyond farming and raising cattle, the city—greedily swallowing up people, money, and fuel—needed men like him. The ever-rising skyscrapers required the sweat and blood of one country boy after another. "Johnny Kid" saw movies for the first time in the display windows of the big city, including Lawrence of Arabia. For the first time, he saw what the woman with the enchanting voice on the radio looked like. Though the image was somewhat blurry, the beautiful face printed in the newspapers had already set his heart racing.
He learned how city people lived.
Lucky Strike cigarettes and cheap whiskey were the best comforts after hard labor. The noisy bars, packed with the stink of sweat and feet, were the only places he went after work rather than returning