Hacking Roy Wahlberg hacked a man to death, then hacked his way into a million-dollar software business behind bars. It's past midnight in a warehouse district north of downtown Minneapolis. Teenagers are clustered in groups along the walls, sitting cross-legged around candles. Others lounge in a black-light room. But most dance in the throbbing dimness before a wall of speakers, moving individually to the music, attentive in the manner of animals feeding.
Boys wear loose, unbuttoned fiannel shirts and baseball caps, girls bell-bottoms.
All sway trancelike to an electronic beat that never stops. This is a rave, the kind of all-night teenage party popularized a few years ago in Europe that has spread across the country. But up front, a few feet from the DJ, is one man who has been dancing for hours, and, with very few breaks, will continue to dance until dawn. Even in daylight, it would be hard to tell that this man is much older than everyone else. The year was 1975 and the place was Ely, Minnesota, near the Canadian border in the region known as the Iron Range.