The Justin Bieber of the 1930s—And He Was Pure Evil

In 1933, a young singer named Harry Footman became America's sweetheart. Smooth voice, perfect hair, million-dollar smile. By 1937, his fame had grown—and so had the darkness behind it. That year, on October 32nd, he released a record called Guilty as Charged. Every song was named after a person. The lyrics were eerie, almost confessional. Fans noticed the names matched people missing from his hometown. Police investigated—and planned to arrest him mid-concert. But as officers closed in, Harry spotted them from the stage, smirked, and ran. A three-hour chase stretched across three counties. When his car finally rolled to a stop, Harry was gone. Only a brick sat on the gas pedal. His name vanished with him. No grave, no answers. Then, decades later, the album resurfaced online. The same track list. The same names.