A KC Councilman wants $30 million for Kemper Arena. What’s reality got to do with it?

October 25, 1985, was a good night to be in Kansas City. The Royals won the sixth game of the World Series. Across town, Tina Turner performed at Kemper Arena.

Turner was touring in support of her smash record Private Dancer. Word of the Royals' victory passed from spectator to spectator during her rendition of Al Green's "Let's Stay Together."

Turner is still amazing. At age 70, she continues to deliver "Better Be Good to Me" in sequins and heels. Her recent tour of North America began last October at the Sprint Center.

That new downtown arena has become the venue of choice for concert promoters. Other Kemper Arena veterans — Bruce Springsteen, Neil Diamond, AC/DC — chose the Sprint Center on their last trips through town.

No surprise. New and fancy beat out old and stockyardy every time.

The city owns both venues. City Councilman Russ Johnson recently floated the idea of selling Kemper in an attempt to close the city's budget gap.

Johnson suggested that Kemper might fetch $30 million, which seems, I don't know, about $30 million too high.

While Kansas City leaders talk about turning their outdated arena into cash, the city of Dallas is spending money just to be rid of its 1970s relic. Last month, the Dallas City Council approved $2.1 million to raze Reunion Arena, which became irrelevant when the American Airlines Center opened in 2001.

Reunion Arena wasn't a total loss. The venue's Zamboni — the slow-moving, crowd-pleasing ice resurfacer — sold for $1,500.

Though his number looks fanciful, Johnson didn't pull it out of the air. He tells me that real-estate professionals suggested Kemper Arena might be worth eight figures.

One real-estate man, the suave Gib Kerr, tells me that he's very interested in what happens with the House That Gerald Ford Rocked. (Kemper was two years old when it hosted the 1976 Republican National Convention.)

Kerr knows something about finding buyers for abandoned arenas. He's managing director of the Kansas City office of Sperry Van Ness, the firm that handled the sale of the Miami Arena, which fetched $28 million at auction in 2004.

Kerr thinks Kemper might command a similar price. "The City of Independence is spending $55 million on a new arena with only about 5,800 seats," he tells me in an e-mail. "That would make Kemper look like a bargain at $25 or $30 million."

But I don't see how.

First, let's knock out the Independence comparison. The arena costs $68 million, a price that includes roads and sewers. But that doesn't mean it's worth $68 million. After all, a government decided to build the thing. The money to pay for it comes not from investors but from a sales tax levied at a neighboring Costco and other businesses.

Once it's completed, the Independence Events Center will house a minor-league hockey team. As Kerr says, it will hold "only" 5,800. But intimacy will be part of its appeal.

Kemper Arena hosted three minor-league hockey clubs that moved or ceased operation. Those teams are gone in part because the sport isn't fun to watch when the empty seats outnumber the occupied ones. (Kemper Arena seats 17,647 for hockey.)

Miami doesn't work for comparison shopping, either.

Land near downtown Miami — not the arena itself — attracted buyers. The auction winner, Glenn Straub, demolished the building last fall.

Straub now owns five acres of Miami near a light-rail stop. Kemper Arena's buyer, if one can be found, will become a West Bottoms landlord — not exactly an equivalent exchange.

So the ground underneath Kemper Arena isn't worth much. No minor-league team would dare call it home. Where does that leave us?

With God.

In 2005, Joel Osteen's Lakewood Community Church in Houston moved into the Compaq Center, a '70s-era arena where the Houston Rockets played. The megachurch paid $11.8 million to lease the building for 30 years.

Osteen wasn't the first minister to turn an NBA gym into a sanctuary. Faithful Central Bible Church in Los Angeles bought the Great Western Forum for $22.5 million. On non-Sabbath days, the church makes the venue available for secular uses. (Surviving members of the Grateful Dead will perform at the Forum May 9.)

Alas, Kansas City lacks an Osteen-type evangelist who might look at Kemper Arena as a promised land.

The largest congregation in town, Church of the Resurrection in Leawood, seems an unlikely candidate to move to the West Bottoms. To do so would mean leaving the 66224 zip code, where family incomes are double the national average.

The metro's second-biggest church, Sheffield Family Life Center, reportedly draws 4,800 people a week — not quite arena-ready. Besides, the church built a new sanctuary in 2001.

Jerry Johnston? First Family Church's Pastor Hairspray is downsizing, according to a recent Kansas City Star report.

Kerr notes the significant number of Mormons who live in Kansas City. But the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is building a new temple north of the river. Besides, Joseph Smith followers show a flair for architecture — it's not their style to simply weld a cross to a building where Big 8 basketball coaches wore plaid coats.

Kerr also mentions the Church of Scientology. OK, I don't want to start a thing here. But let's just say that Scientologists don't worship in the traditional sense. The celebrity-crazed movement's signature building is the former Château Elysée, once a residential hotel for Hollywood stars.