It's International Hamburger Day!
Explore the mysterious origins of the hamburger, featuring competing claims from 'Hamburger Charlie' to Louis' Lunch and the dish's journey from Germany to America.
5 minutes · No politics · Just things worth knowing
Transcript
It's Thursday, May twenty eighth, and it's International Hamburger Day, which I didn't know was a thing until about twelve hours ago. But the hamburger turns out to be one of those everyday objects with a surprisingly wild history behind it, and the company most associated with it, McDonald's, makes its money in a way that has almost nothing to do with selling you food. So we're going with it. The origin of the hamburger is one of those historical questions where at least five people have a credible claim and nobody can prove anything. The word comes from Hamburg, Germany, where minced beef served as "Hamburg steak" was a common dish in the nineteenth century. German immigrants brought it to the United States, and by the 1830s it was showing up on menus in New York City, including at Delmonico's, which printed a Hamburg steak on its menu as far back as 1837. But the question of who first put ground beef between two pieces of bread and called it a hamburger is still unresolved, and the competing claims read like a comedy of regional pride. A man known as "Hamburger Charlie" Nagreen allegedly sold ground beef between two slices of bread at a county fair in Seymour, Wisconsin in 1885, because he noticed customers wanted to eat while walking around. Frank and Charles Menches, two brothers from Ohio, say they sold a ground beef sandwich at a fair in Hamburg, New York, that same year. Louis Lassen (LASS-en) of New Haven, Connecticut reportedly served ground beef trimmings between toast at his lunch counter, Louis' Lunch, in 1900, and the restaurant is still open and still claims the title. A Texan named Fletcher Davis supposedly sold his version at the 1904 World's Fair in St. Louis, though critics argue his was served on sliced bread rather than a bun, so it shouldn't count. None of these claims have been definitively proven, and all of them have been disputed by the others. What's clear is that by the early 1900s, ground beef sandwiches were everywhere in America, because they were cheap, filling, and you could eat them with one hand while doing something else with the other. The hamburger didn't need an inventor so much as it needed a country full of people who were in a hurry, and America has always been that country. White Castle, founded in Wichita, Kansas in 1921, was the first chain to build a business around the hamburger. The founders chose the name "White" deliberately, to signal cleanliness at a time when ground beef had a reputation for being unsanitary, and "Castle" to convey permanence and strength. They standardized everything: the size of the patty, the shape of the bun, the layout of the kitchen. But the real revolution in hamburger economics wouldn't come for another three decades, from a drive-in restaurant in San Bernardino, California, run by two brothers named Richard and Maurice McDonald. In 1948, the McDonald brothers shut down their successful drive-in restaurant and reopened it with a radically simplified concept they called the Speedee Service System. They cut the menu from twenty five items to nine, eliminated carhops and waitresses, replaced plates and silverware with paper wrappers and bags, and redesigned the kitchen so that making a hamburger was an assembly line process where each worker did one task repeatedly. The result was a hamburger that cost fifteen cents, came out in thirty seconds, and tasted exactly the same every time. The brothers were doing to restaurant food what Henry Ford had done to car manufacturing, and it worked enormously well. By 1954, the McDonald brothers had six franchise locations and were ordering so many milkshake mixers that they caught the attention of Ray Kroc, a fifty-two-year-old mixer salesman from Chicago who had spent most of his career in middling sales jobs. Kroc flew to San Bernardino, watched the operation, and immediately understood that what the brothers had built could be replicated across the entire country. He became their franchise agent, and over the next several years, he opened hundreds of McDonald's locations while the brothers stayed in California and collected their cut. The relationship deteriorated because Kroc wasn't making any money. His franchise agreement with the brothers gave them 0.5 percent of gross sales, and the margins on fifteen-cent hamburgers were so thin that Kroc was operating on a 1.4 percent profit margin even as the chain grew rapidly. He was building an empire and going broke doing it. The solution came from Harry Sonneborn (SONN-en-born), a financial executive Kroc hired away from Tastee-Freez. Sonneborn looked at the business and told Kroc something that changed everything: "You're not in the burger business. You're in the real estate business." The idea was simple but transformative. Instead of just licensing the McDonald's name to franchisees, Kroc's company would buy or lease the land and building for each restaurant, then sublease it to the franchisee at a twenty to forty percent markup. The franchisee got a turnkey restaurant. McDonald's got a steady stream of rental income that didn't depend on how many hamburgers any individual location sold. And because McDonald's owned the real estate, it had enormous leverage over its franchisees: if a franchisee didn't follow the rules, McDonald's could simply decline to renew the lease. In 1961, Kroc bought the McDonald brothers out entirely for 2.7 million dollars. The brothers claimed Kroc failed to honor several verbal agreements, including a promised royalty, and the relationship ended bitterly. The original San Bernardino restaurant was not included in the deal, and Kroc reportedly opened a new McDonald's across the street from it to drive it out of business. Today, McDonald's owns roughly seventy percent of the buildings and forty five percent of the land underneath its more than 40,000 restaurants worldwide. The company's real estate portfolio is worth an estimated forty to forty five billion dollars. When you buy a Big Mac, you're contributing to a restaurant's revenue. When that restaurant pays rent to McDonald's corporate, you're contributing to one of the largest commercial real estate operations on the planet. This is the same pattern we've been seeing all month on HigherIQ. The Shrek episode showed that animated movies aren't really about movies, they're about merchandise. The gaming episode showed that GTA V isn't really about selling a game, it's about selling virtual currency inside a game. And McDonald's isn't really about selling hamburgers. The hamburger is what gets the franchisee in the door, and the real estate is where the money lives. In each case, the thing you think is the product is actually the advertisement for a completely different business underneath it. The hamburger itself, the actual sandwich, has barely changed in a century. Ground beef, bun, condiments. What changed is the system around it: the kitchen that makes it identical every time, the franchise model that lets one company operate 40,000 locations without managing any of them directly, and the real estate strategy that turned a fast food chain into a property empire. Ray Kroc didn't invent the hamburger. The McDonald brothers didn't invent it either. Nobody did, or at least nobody can prove they did. What Kroc figured out, with Sonneborn's help, was that the food was never the point. The food was what got customers through the door and franchisees to sign leases. The land underneath the building was the business, and it has been ever since. So if this comes up in conversation, here's how to think about it. Nobody knows who invented the hamburger, and at least five people have claimed it, from a fair in Wisconsin in 1885 to a lunch counter in Connecticut in 1900. What turned it into the most iconic American food was the McDonald brothers' assembly line kitchen in 1948 and Ray Kroc's decision to build a real estate empire on top of it. McDonald's owns seventy percent of its restaurant buildings and forty five percent of the land, and that portfolio is worth over forty billion dollars. When Kroc's financial advisor told him "you're not in the burger business, you're in the real estate business," it was the most important sentence in fast food history. The hamburger got people through the door. The land underneath the building is where the money always was. Stay informed, stay curious, and we'll see you tomorrow.
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