Though he’s never been to that corner his dad helped make world famous.
Never made the acquaintance of the crazy little women. Never been to Kansas City, period.
But thanks to the royalty checks that keep on coming, he plans on going to Kansas City one day soon, he tells me.
“He didn’t write ‘Kansas City,’ ” Lionel said of his famous father, Wilbert Harrison, and the song he took to the top of the charts in 1959.
“But if he didn’t do his version, ‘Kansas City’ doesn’t turn out to be the hit it turned out to be.”
Yes, we’re talking about the rock-’n’-roll classic that became our official city song three years ago.
Thanks for that designation, you’ll remember, go to members of the City Council. Especially former Councilman Chuck Eddy, who saw great wisdom in my suggestion that he and his colleagues honor the song that people around the globe associate with our town.
Either that or they figured it was the only way to shut me up and end my seemingly never-ending official city song campaign.
Either way, it worked. I haven’t written about the Leiber- and Stoller-penned civic anthem in months. Years, even.
In fact, I’d almost forgotten the crucial role that yours truly played in the official song campaign. And by that I mean it was my sole creation, but for which no thanks are necessary.
You’re welcome, anyway.
However, it was still fresh in Laren Mahoney’s mind when she got a call recently at the convention and visitors bureau. It was Harrison’s fiancée saying he wanted to pay a visit and asking Mahoney what there was to do around Kansas City. Mahoney gave her some suggestions and then mentioned my musical connection.
Next thing you know, Lionel Harrison and I were chatting on the phone, and he related how “Kansas City” still helps pay his bills.
“I got a check for $21,000 just in February,” he said. “That’s only for half a year.”
Harrison said he could live comfortably off that and other royalty payments. The largest checks by far are for his father’s own compositions, especially “Let’s Work Together,” which was a hit for Canned Heat and George Thorogood and was featured in “Forrest Gump,” among other films.
But Lionel Harrison is a musician in his own right, playing drums and singing for the Gypsy Lane Band. It pays well, though at 54 he’ll likely never achieve the success his father had.
That’s not all bad, he said, given the price of musical success sometimes. The broken marriages. The hard living that comes from a life on the road.
“I hadn’t seen my dad since I was 4 years old, and found him when he (was) about to die in a nursing home,” Lionel said.
His father’s caretakers, though, wouldn’t allow a visit.
“My dad died in ’94, October 26th,” Lionel said.
Over the years, he’s made a study of the father he never really knew.
Been told of the resemblance. Heard the story from his father’s manager, Chuck Rubin, of how “Kansas City” was recorded at the tail end of another act’s New York recording session.
They had 15 minutes left on the clock.
“Wilbert did it all in one take,” Rubin told me. “You can feel the freshness of it in the recording.”
It was Rubin who restored the performance and composing royalties that Wilbert Harrison was denied.
Sadly, the money only started coming in about the time he suffered the stroke that led to his death at age 65.
But the checks keep on appearing in Lionel’s mailbox in Boca Raton, Fla.
And one day soon, he’ll pay us a visit, he promises, and he and I will talk some more.
Over some Kansas City wine, naturally.
Join the discussion
Share your observations and experiences about news. Lively, open debate is the goal, but please refrain from personal attacks or comments that are racist, vulgar or otherwise inappropriate. If you see an inappropriate comment, please click the "Report as violation" link to notify a KansasCity.com editor. Thanks for your feedback.