A Remembrance of Mandy Jenkins—1980-2023

After I Fall Down the Stairs at the Golden Temple (by Mary Oliver)

For a while I could not remember some word I was in need of,

and I was bereaved and said: where are you, beloved friend?

WKSU—Kent State University’s public radio station (now intertwined with Ideastream in Cleveland)— was much more than a source for news, information, and music (classical and folk). It was the place where many young journalists and broadcasters began their journey.

Thanks to the station’s deep connection to Kent State’s fantastic School of Media and Journalism (part of the University’s College of Communication and Information), WKSU attracted student employees who gained experience in the newsroom, marketing and public relations, communications, production, and elsewhere. Each year a core of the best students came to WKSU to apply what they had learned in their classrooms. Once they graduated from Kent State, most of them left, taking their skills to other organizations. And, in some instances, students and staff/reporters/announcers/administrators forged deep connections that continue to this day.

Mandy Jenkins was one of those students.

There were so many students working at and transitioning through WKSU that I came to know only a handful (Katherine K., Brian S., Andrew W., Chris B., Krista A., Tammi L., Kelli L., Maryann S., Alex C., Heather H., and others). Some stayed for a semester; some stayed for most of their college years and then scattered, often to public broadcasting stations around the country.

When Mandy was first hired, she was an undergraduate student. As I recall, she landed in the public relations part of the station, working directly with Ann VerWiebe and Bob Burford; however, I did not really come to know her until we began to prepare for a celebration of WKSU’s 50th anniversary. That was the year 2000. And that was when then-General Manager John Perry told then-Development Director Al Bartholet that he wanted us to create a scholarship in honor of the man who founded WKSU: Walton D. Clarke. Mr. Clarke was still alive; he was legendary at the station...a former professor in Kent State’s telecommunications (now journalism) area and the man who personally drove WKSU’s licensing application to the FCC in Washington, DC. (If rumor can be believed...he drove in a blinding snowstorm...but that is debatable.)

The task for creating some sort of scholarship fell into my lap; I had no idea how to put it together and turned for help to a friend who worked in student financial aid—Connie Dubick—and to our development director, Trish Gerber.

Together, we worked with the School of Journalism’s then-Director Jeff Fruit and—seemingly out of thin air—we created the Walton D. Clarke Fellowship for WKSU. In our documentation, we included that the Fellowship would be for a master’s-level Kent State student who also interned at WKSU. The student would receive full, in-state graduate tuition; a small stipend; AND work experience at WKSU. It took months to pull together, but it was ready to award early in 2001.

Mandy talked with Al and, then, with me about applying (encouraged by Trish, Ann, and (undoubtedly) former WKSU Program Director Eric Nuzum (who went on to co-found Magnificent Noise and create iconic podcasts). Mandy and I had many conversations about the Fellowship and application process in the station’s kitchen and my office. She was finishing her bachelor’s degree, so the timing was delicate— in between undergrad and graduate status—but nothing deterred her. She was confident that she could work it out so she was fully credentialed for the application process. Which is just what she did. She worked it out and was awarded our first Walton D. Clarke Fellowship.

Time passed. Mandy became more and more skilled at her work. She absorbed everything that anyone had to teach her—writing copy, researching, producing, doing off-mic reporting for daily newscasts, and more. In short, she was a hard-working, smart, dedicated, and fun presence at the station. When she produced her first story—Green Bean Casserole—it aired on WKSU and then received an Ohio Society of Professional Journalists “Best Feature Story” award in 2003. As she accomplished all of this at WKSU, she also was working on her master’s degree and was making an impact at Kent State, including by co- creating Fusion Magazine, where she was editor-in-chief (it was and is a magazine for sexual minority issues in print and online forms).

Mandy graduated. Off she went to Cincinnati...Milwaukee...Washington, DC...New York City.

From those distances, I watched Mandy (as we all did). From time to time, I reached out to her. Most of the time, I asked for her help with the Fellowship. Would she write something about her experience that I could share with possible new Fellows? Did she have any advice for the Fellows? Anything she could share that would help them? No matter how busy she was—no matter where she was living or what she was doing—Mandy always answered me. And her answer always was “yes.” Whatever I asked of her, she did.

The last time I saw Mandy was after I asked her if she and her husband, Ben (a fellow Kent State graduate), would meet Al and me at the train station in New York City. We were passing through and had a few hours to spare between trains. Once again, Mandy said...“Of course!” They met us for dinner at the station, and I remember thinking how fantastic she looked...how smart she was...how proud I felt of her...how full of life she was. We laughed. Reminisced. Caught up.

That was several years ago. Now retired, I no longer needed her to offer comments about her Fellowship which, truly, was long in her past and, perhaps, the least of her many professional achievements. Staying in touch was now relegated to social media posts—photos on our digital frame—conversations about her and how great she was.

When Al and I saw a few years ago that she had been diagnosed with cancer, we both felt devastated. Of course, Mandy had approached this diagnosis with courage, and she did not hide it (as my mother—who also died of breast cancer complications—had done).

In January 2023, when we saw that a Go-Fund-Me had been started to help Mandy return home to Zanesville to die, we knew her time was short. A fundraiser that asked for just $5,000 swiftly grew to more than $70,000 (with money raised beyond her need to be given to breast cancer research). It was and is abundantly clear that Mandy had touched many, many hundreds of lives—Ben, chief among them. Family—friends—colleagues—former teachers—people she taught because she was leading them. The list goes on and on.

On the night of February 21, I had a dream about Mandy. In my dream, she was holding her hands in a heart shape. It felt like a farewell; even then, Mandy was giving. She was alive with light and purpose.

On Sunday evening, February 26, Al looked up from reading on his iPad. “Mandy died,” he said. We both wept.

I know that countless other people have their own stories about Mandy. I know that my memories of her are a very tiny part of her huge and wonderful life. But I could not let her passing pass...without writing this remembrance. How we loved you, Mandy! We will never forget you.