He was born a normal size. Eight pounds, six ounces. Perfectly ordinary.

Six months later, he weighed thirty pounds. By the time he was eight years old, he was taller than his father. His great size and continued growth were due to hypertrophy of his pituitary gland, which resulted in an abnormally high level of human growth hormone. There was no treatment. There was no ceiling. He just kept going.

Robert Wadlow grew up in Alton, Illinois, twelve miles up the river from St. Louis, and the town did something remarkable: they tried to let him be a child. He was in the school play. He joined the Boy Scouts — at thirteen, already seven feet four inches tall, he was proclaimed the world’s biggest Boy Scout. He collected stamps. He was quiet. People who knew him called him the Gentle Giant, and they meant it without irony.

He eventually topped out at 8 feet, 11.1 inches and 439 pounds. He has held the title of Tallest Man Ever with Guinness World Records since the first such book was released in 1955.

He died at twenty-two. It was a badly fitted ankle brace that ultimately caused his death — the brace rubbed a blister that became infected, and his body could not fight off the infection. He had to be treated in a hotel room, because no hospital bed was large enough. His coffin measured ten feet nine inches long and required twelve pallbearers. All city businesses in Alton closed for the funeral.

After his death, his family destroyed nearly all his possessions. They didn’t want them displayed as curiosities. They wanted him remembered as a person.

There is a life-size bronze statue of him in Alton. People stand next to it and look up, and for a moment the world is built to a different scale.