There's a nasty report going around that the evening edition of The Topeka Capital-Journal -- formerly The Topeka State Journal -- is dying today. But that's nonsense!! No newspaper ever really dies as long as there are oldtimers to sit around and remember how it was.

The State Journal's name, too, will continue to be blended with that of The Topeka Daily Capital, into The Topeka Capital-Journal.

The State Journal traces its history back 97 years to its direct ancestor, Topeka Blade, begun in 1883. Since that time it has had nine other names. including its name of evening edition of The Topeka Capital-Journal for the past four months.

In addition to Topeka Blade, it has been the Daily Kansas State Journal, The Daily State Journal, The Topeka Daily Journal, Kansas State Journal, Kansas Daily State Journal, Daily State Journal, State Journal, The Topeka State Journal, and finally, the evening edition of The Topeka Capital-Journal.

The State Journal has gone the way of many other evening newspapers in the United States, with the trend toward stronger morning newspapers apparently too overwhelming to resist.

We're having a little informal party for the staff today -- no mourners allowed. We'll have a big chocolate cake with white icing, candy roses, and written on it, the traditional newspaper symbol. "-30-" (which means the end of a story - and time to start a new one.)

We can't help but have pride in our newspaper. It was the first to bring the

Associated Press into Kansas. It had tremendous impact on libel law nationally in its early days. And it has won many awards through the years.

The Topeka Blade was blunt and fearless from its start -- so much so that its first publisher, J. Clark Swayze, was fatally gunned down by an irate subscriber.

For several years that followed, it was in bankruptcy often. it supported -- although not too seriously -- the Democratic party. It had a number of publishers -- and different names.

Its history as a truly reputable newspaper began on Oct. 29, 1885, when it was bought by Frank P. MacLennan for $8,475. By 1925 he had built the paper's circulation and reliability so much that he was offered $1 million to sell it -- and laughed at the offer.

On the newspaper's 50th anniversary, Kansas' great editor from Emporia, William Allen White, wrote, "Frank MacLennan realized that freedom is a newspaper's best asset. That its political friends are its liabilities; its political enemies, its resources and good will. Looking back over the 50 years I have known him, I cannot remember that he ever made a friend of a politician."

After MacLennan's death, the newspaper was inherited by veteran employees. They ran it until 1900, when it was purchased by Oscar S. Stauffer and associates and later became a part of Stauffer Publications Inc. The firm

later purchased The Topeka Daily Capital.

Most of the early-day stories about The State Journal stretch far beyond the memories of even the oldtimers on the staff.

Probably one of the best recalled an old-time "tramp" printer who traveled around but joined the staff periodically. He'd work awhile and then, while on lunch hour usually, he would disappear. The other printers knew how to find out if he had really left town. They checked the type cases where he worked -- and they'd find he had set his own obituary into type.

But more recent stories are humorous, too.

For instance, once there was an elderly woman standing beside the city desk while the city editor typed an address for her.

Suddenly there was an unearthly screech from the environs of the sports department.

"What's that?' she asked nervously.

The city editor calmly continued typing, waved his hand airily toward the sports department, and said, "Oh, that's just the hawk."

"The hawk?" she persisted.

Another screech from the sports department.

"The hawk in the wastebasket," he explained absently, as though every newsroom in the country has one.

"Oh," she said weakly--and dropped the subject. 

What he didn't get around to explaining to her was that the outdoors editor had rescued a wounded hawk from a high ledge. He had put it in a burlap sack and then into a waste basket in the sports department, awaiting the arrival of a Fish and Game Commission official.

Most of the oldtimers at The State Journal remember one copy girl in the old building at 8th and Jackson. She got tired of carrying copy up one flight of stairs to the composing room or waiting for the elevator. So every once in awhile she'd pry open the elevator door and drop the copy down the shaft. She didn't last long in the job.

Another copy girl won undying fame by refusing to give the publisher, Oscar

Stauffer, a copy of his own newspaper.

It was her first day on the job with The State Journal, and she didn't know Stauffer.

While she was distributing first editions, he approached her and politely asked, "May I have one of those papers?"

"No," she said firmly. "Only people who are on the list get a paper." Then she walked away, leaving Stauffer with a bemused look on his face.

After a moment he shrugged his shoulders slightly, and then trudged back to his office to await delivery of his paper. He wasn't angry. He figured if she wouldn't give him a paper, she wasn't going to give one to anyone else who wasn't supposed to have one. She was doing her job.

One of the favorite stories of the staff has always been the jumbled wedding

account written by one of the society editors. Somehow the type came out,

"The bride's train extended to Hannibal, Mo."

The State Journal has had some unusual city editors. One burly city editor

sometimes at deadline would burst out with a loud chorus of "Jesus Wants Me

for a Sunbeam." Another city editor --a former C. I. bugler -- was known to whip out a little tin bugle and play taps. 

And then there was the city editor who had a famous 15-year collection of pictures of bathing beauties (wire photos), which he kept in the copy basket.

There was the muscular sports editor who did calesthenics in the newsroom on Saturday morning while wearing green velvet beret. The health writer who fainted at the sight of blood. The inept reporter of many years ago who sold his editor on the project of sending his stories back by carrier pigeon from a military encampment -- but put the message carrier on the bird's foot so tightly the poor bird didn't show up for days -- and was walking when he came.

There also was the bright young woman reporter who needed to talk with a Kansas Power and Light information officer but telephone lines were jammed because of damage from an early-morning thunderstorm. She had no time to walk the single block to his office. So she sent him a telegram - and he showed up within minutes.

When we moved to our new building, the city editor had a tough time mastering the soundproofing. Ordinarily his voice -- in summoning a reporter - would rattle the rafters. Eventually he succeeded.

But there was one other noise in the newsroom that soundproofing couldn't

lick, The wire services machines each had a wooden hinged cover that had to be raised before a story on the machine could be read. Staff members would lift

the lid and, when they were through, unthinkingly let it drop with a loud crash that reverberated throughout the newsroom.

The city editor sat nearby with, his back to the machines, and the noise began to grind on him.

"Cut it out," he warned his reporters, with menace.

But the next day there came an especially loud BANG! The city editor, with

his back to the machines, stiffened, smashed his fist down on the desk, and

shouted an oath while swinging his chair around to chastise the offender. His eyes immediately fell on a guilty publisher; his hand still touching the lid.

He swung his chair around without another word.

*****

About the Writer

Stannie Anderson joined the staff of The Topeka State Journal in February 1958 as health writer, a position she held for 19 years.  She served as assistant city editor of The State Journal for several years, and then became city editor of the newspaper in October 1977.  Beginning Jan. 1 she will become assistant city editor of The Topeka Capital-Journal.