Beatles 9-17-1964 Municipal Stadium Kansas City – Photo by Dana Crick

Would you pay $8.50 to see the Beatles perform? In the late summer of 1964 that was a lot of money for a boy not quite ten years old. It was all the money I had earned mowing lawns. I was saving to up to buy a Schwinn Stingray bicycle. You know, the cool Malibu blue one with a banana seat.

Goodbye bicycle. Hello, Municipal Stadium. Home of the Kansas City A’s. Four years before Charlie Finley took his green and gold baseball show on the road to Oakland. Finley promised Kansas City that he would bring the Beatles. On Thursday, September 17, 1964 he delivered. That night forever changed the length of my hair. The scale of my dreams. The direction of my life. All at the ripe old age of ten. Really? Really.

How did Charles O. Finley make good on his promise? The tour was completely booked. And Kansas City was not on the list. Twenty-four concerts in thirty-three days. Eight days off sprinkled along the way for John, Paul, George and Ringo to rest. According to a retrospective article published in the Kansas City Star, September 17, 2014, before the Beatles had even finished their first tour stop on August 19, 1964 at the Cow Palace (you’d think that would be the name of the venue in Kansas City, but nope, San Francisco) Finley offered Beatles’ manager, Brian Epstein, $50,000 to shoehorn K.C. into their schedule.

Charlie Finley with The Beatles Photo: Pin on Musicians / Pinterest

The offer was a wallet busting $10,000 more than their highest quote to date. To put this kind of money in perspective, in 1964 Frank Sinatra commanded $15,000 a show. At $40,000 a gig, the Beatles were already “top of the heap” by any metric. But Brian Epstein passed. The road weary Liverpudlians needed every day off they could steal.

On August 23rd Finley wired Epstein while the Beatles were preparing to play the Hollywood Bowl. Would $100,000 make one of the lads’ precious days off a little less precious? The response was short and sweet. Thanks, but no thanks, Charlie.

Undaunted, Finley knew the band had a day off between New Orleans on September 16th and Dallas on September 18th. On their chartered Lockheed Electra 11, New Orleans to Kansas City was only slightly more than two hours as the Beatle flies. Finley swung for the fences with an offer he thought Epstein and the Beatles could not refuse. $150,000! Think about it. Those six figures in 1964 dollars are today the equivalent of $1,249,000. That’s no typo. ONE MILLION TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY-NINE THOUSAND DOLLARS!

The Beatles sang “money can’t buy you love.” But evidently that kind of money can buy you a stop in Kansas City.

A neighbor’s father was brave enough to drive his three children and me to Municipal Stadium at 22nd and Brooklyn. With the parking lot overflowing, local residents charged a few bucks to park on lawns surrounding the stadium. We had field seats. Right behind home plate. The stage sat on second base. Adorned in the A’s team colors. Kelly green backdrop. Gold proscenium bunting. Finley believed, “Today’s Beatles Fans Are Tomorrow’s Baseball Fans.”

Jack Nead and the Jumping Jacks warmed up the crowd. They were followed by The Bill Black Combo, The Exciters, Clarence ‘Frogman’ Henry, and Jackie DeShannon.

And then… as the Beatles took the stage the shriek that only one band in the history of world could spontaneously ignite shattered space and time. There they were. The Fab Four. John. Paul. George. Ringo. In the flesh. 127 feet, 3 and 3/8 inches away from home plate. Away from me! Was this really even happening? They hadn’t strummed a single chord. And my heart was already pounding louder than Ringo’s big bass drum. My face hurt from smiling bigger than was humanly possible. My ears rang. I screamed along with everyone else, louder than humanly possible. That was their magic. They made us feel like anything was possible. Every time the needle dropped on one of their amazing
songs. And now on this warm, Indian summer night, seeing them sing those very same songs live. No words. None. Truly capture the experience. If I had to pick one that comes close, it would be…

Surreal.

A word certainly not in my vocabulary back in 1964 best describes the next 32 minutes. Because a brief 32 minutes was how long their set ran. 2 minutes longer than any other night on the tour.

At the obligatory news conference before the concert, John, Paul, George and Ringo were asked if they would play more than their normal 30 minutes on account of the exorbitant amount of treasure Charlie Finley ponied up for the added stop. Paul McCartney leaned into the microphone and quipped, “Just extra well.” But to the delight of 20,214 Beatlemaniacs in attendance, the band opened with an added song, “Kansas City/Hey-Hey-Hey!” The stadium went wild. The rest of the night flashed by in the blink of an eye.

Photo: The Kansas City Star

“You Can’t Do That”
“All My Loving”
“She Loves You”
“Things We Said Today”
“Roll Over Beethoven”
“Can’t Buy Me Love”
“If I Fell”
“I Wanna Hold Your Hand”
“Boys”
“A Hard Day’s Night”
“Long Tall Sally.”

They took their signature bow. And then they were gone. Like a dream.

Everywhere I looked there were tears. More than a few flooded my eyes as well. How could the moment I’d waited a seeming eternity pass so damn fast? I wanted more. Soooooooo much more. I wanted them to play until the cows came home. (Kansas City truly was a cow town back then).

The Beatles last live performance was at Candlestick Park on August 29, 1966. But it wasn’t until Paul McCartney announced the Beatles break-up on April 10, 1970 that I realized how incredibly fortunate I was to have once seen a live performance of the most influential rock ‘n roll band of all time.

Beatles 9-17-1964 Municipal Stadium Kansas City – Photo by Dana Crick

A final thought. This Kansas City kid moved to Los Angeles in the summer of 1979 to pursue dreams that were seeded that fateful summer of 1964. Reminiscences of the long and winding road I’ve since traveled will be saved for future stories. But here’s my six degrees of separation to someone who actually worked with the Beatles. Television director, Tim Kiley. He directed the three Ed Sullivan shows on which the Beatles appeared in February 1964. The first one viewed by more than 70 million people.

In 1980, I landed a gopher job on a tv variety special Mr. Kiley directed. Tim was rather small in stature and bigger than life in every other way. A World War II hero. Warm. Funny. A brilliant director. Once I put two and two together and realized he directed those Ed Sullivan shows, I never stopped asking questions. I can only imagine how many people before me had peppered him with all the very same questions. But Tim humored me. Patiently answered every one. Each time with a far away look in his eye that was uniquely Beatle. By that I mean, these
four artists left an indelible mark on everyone they touched. Even on a grown man who had slogged through hell on the battlefields of Europe. Tim told me that the moment he ran the first rehearsal he felt the magic. It was palpable. The ground rocked and rolled beneath his feet. A seismic event the likes of which the world would never experience again. If I’m not mistaken. Tim was right. The world never has. Yeah, yeah, yeah!

Joel J. Feigenbaum
Writer-Producer-Director