After hitchhiking cross-country from my family's home in New Rochelle, New York, I landed in Salt Lake City looking for a job—any job a husky kid could get. The "men wanted" newspaper ads called for muckers in a Nevada mine. I walked to the hiring office of Combined Metals near my hotel. It was the first of May 1946. I was still a teenager, not long out of Kiski Prep near Pittsburgh.
Back-Road Bites BY MEGG MUELLER There’s one thing Nevada’s lesser-traveled roads reveal: while there may be scenic views for days, there may not always be a place to eat. Some towns have just one restaurant with mercurial hours (think Austin), while others have none (sorry, Ione). Lest you be discouraged, there are plenty of cafes, […]