St. Louis, 1883. Harold Crane styled himself a king and built a banquet hall that looked like a throne room—red cloth sagging from beams, stolen chandeliers dripping wax, long tables set on tin plates. Neighbors said he helped the poor. Children hoped for invitations. Inside, they were given paper crowns and told to kneel.Crane served “Royal Burgers”—ground meat pressed in bread—and demanded the children keep eating, through coughing, through sickness. He clapped when they choked. By winter, children vanished. He spoke of midnight feasts. When Crane died, the cellar told its own story: barrels with salted flesh and bones, lids marked only with dates. (We treat these claims as legend—no graphic detail, no “how-to.”)The town later nicknamed him “the Burger King,” a title that fit the myth more than the man. This episode is a Deep Dive into charity as theater, ritual as control, and how a nickname can outlive its subject while history forgets the children who wore paper crowns.

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