00:00This is the real Burger King. He wore no crown, only children kneeling in his dining hall.
00:04St. Louis, 1883. Harold Crane, a failed aristocrat, styled himself the king. He built a banquet hall,
00:12red cloth sagging from beams, stolen chandeliers dripping wax, long tables set like a throne room.
00:19In the city, he was admired. Neighbors said he helped the poor. Children whispered of him with
00:23hope, dreaming of an invitation. To be called into the hall was an honor. To wear a paper crown
00:29and bow before him felt like belonging. Crane created what he called the Royal Burgers,
00:34patties of ground meat pressed between bread piled on tin plates. He demanded the children eat and keep
00:40eating, through coughing, through sickness, clapping when they choked, forcing them to finish even as
00:45they wept. Their struggle was his entertainment. By winter, children vanished. Neighbors spoke of
00:50midnight feasts, voices cut short by silence. When Crane died, the cellar revealed barrels of salted
00:56flesh and bones. Lids marked only with dates. The truth of the Royal Burgers was clear. The taste
01:02became a brand. The crimes became a franchise. The name was never buried. Burger King.
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