‘I wrote a story about that one time.’ Columnist chronicled Kansas for seven decades

Whether you knew him or not, there’s a good chance that at some point, Ted Blankenship has either informed you of the latest news or even made you laugh.

The longtime journalist and humorist died last month at age 97. Almost up until the time of his death, he still was writing “It’s Not Serious,” a column he started in 1957 that ran in various newspapers, including The Eagle, and most recently was published by the Active Age.

“The joke in the family is that no matter what you say, he’ll say, ‘I wrote a story about that one time,’ ” Blankenship’s son, Tedd, told the Active Age in a 2024 story.

“And the truth of the matter is, he probably did.”

Remembering the quote, the younger Blankenship now said that gives him an idea for using his father’s tombstone to commemorate all those stories.

“I’m going to put something on his darn stone that’s going to be something to that effect.”

Growing up in the oil fields of Teterville, which today is a Flint Hills ghost town, the elder Blankenship thought he’d follow his father into petroleum engineering.

A stint in the U.S. Air Force during the Korean War changed his mind. He’d entered the service as a musician — he sang and played trumpet — but was reassigned to be a typist after it became known he’d attended college and could type. It’s what led him to finish his degree in journalism after the war.

Blankenship interned at what was then called the Topeka Capital and was offered a job there.

“The editor called me in and said, ‘Did you ever live on a farm?’ ” Blankenship told the Active Age. “I said, ‘No.’ He said, ‘Do you know anything about farming at all?’ I said, ‘No.’ He said, ‘Well, you’re our new farm writer.’ ”

It was the start of a career that saw him cover myriad topics.

He began his column following a car accident in which he complained about the cumbersome neck brace he had to wear, and it ran with an illustration of some African neck rings. It’s the kind of thing that probably wouldn’t fly today, though Blankenship was on the right side of history after writing editorials about racial issues in Coffeyville.

“I had the whole town on my rear,” he told the Active Age. “I had people threaten me on the phone, threaten my kids. It got pretty hairy for a while.”

Blankenship was unflappable by nature.

He, former Wichita Mayor Elma Broadfoot, Elvira Crocker and the late Fran Kentling were Active Age board members who stepped in to save the publication when it was without an editor at one point, and Blankenship was the only one who knew enough about the software to lay out each edition.

However, that didn’t stop the others from giving him direction, Broadfoot said.

“Fran would stand over him and pace back and forth,” she said. “Ted would just very patiently get it done, but I thought afterwards, I’m sort of amazed our friendship lasted through that experience.”

Years earlier, Blankenship was instrumental in helping the Wichita Jazz Festival get its start with a series of columns he wrote. He was honored on its 50th anniversary a few years ago.

Blankenship further was honored as the state’s top columnist in the 2024 Kansas Press Association awards.

His column remained popular, particularly with a lot of the Active Age’s older readers, as he often told stories from the past — his own or someone else’s.

In addition to writing and teaching journalism, Blankenship had a host of other interests through the decades.

He made jewelry, his son said, because he didn’t want to buy it.

“He was too cheap.”

He did woodworking and built mid-century modern furniture for his family’s home while his wife, Dorothy, sewed cushions for it.

Blankenship built her a huge greenhouse off the back of their home, and he took on all kinds of mechanical projects without any prior skills, like replacing the clutch in his daughter’s car.

“He was just, like, all right, I’m going to do this,” his son said.

The younger Blankenship said his father kept up with technology, advancing from a Corona typewriter to a Daisy Wheel and a Tandy computer to eventually becoming a Mac man.

“He was interested in everything,” Tedd Blankenship said. “Was never afraid to try anything.”

He and his wife threw lots of theme parties, too, and both kept dancing well into their 90s.

Blankenship is survived by his wife and two of their three children in addition to a grandchild, two great-grandchildren and one on the way.

Though his son said Blankenship had a great sense of humor, Blankenship himself told the Active Age he noticed his humor wasn’t always what struck a chord with readers.

“It was interesting to me that a lot of columns that weren’t intended to be especially funny ended up the ones people liked the most.”