Claude Johnson was the long-time sports editor for The Kansas City Star. Al Spink, in his book “The National Game,” called the paper “one of the greatest newspapers in the Western world,” and said of Johnson:
”He is a real baseball enthusiast… (The) sports pages are widely read and perfectly edited by little Johnson… (he) ought to be dancing in the big league.”
When the Pittsburgh Pirates came to town to play exhibition games with the American Association Kansas City Blues, Johnson wrote a long profile of Honus Wagner:
“Hugh Fullerton, who writes on baseball topics, has said that Hans Wagner is the nearest approach to a perfect baseball machine ever constructed. ‘Constructed ‘ is good. Wagner is put up solidly, after the fashion of government architecture. And you may take it straight from any bug who ever saw Hans Wagner that he is some baseball machine.“
Honus Wagner
Johnson said in the Kansas City games Wagner had the “star role:”
“Do you know, it’s lots of fun to watch Hans Wagner play ball. A good deal of this is due to the fact that Honus enjoys it himself. He has as much fun playing ball as a kid on a corner lot. He romps about and kids the opposition…and nags good naturedly the umpire. For Hans is field captain this year and feels that he must do some beefing. But beefing is hard work for Hans. He is too good natured. Hans would much rather take a bun decision with a humorously protesting wave of his enormous hands and make up for it later by one of his terrific wallops.
“Hans has a lot of little mannerisms on the field. He is a born comedian, though so bashful he will hide himself under the bat rack if he sees a reporter coming.”
Johnson said Kansas City fans were as impressed with his work in the field as at the plate:
“Most of what you read of Hans is about his tremendous hitting, and it is all true, too. But Hans is a miraculous fielder, also. He has a style that is all his own. No bush leaguer would dare try to play short like Hans Wagner. He plays wherever he pleases; retreating to the edge of the outfield grass, whence only his mighty arm would carry to first in time to head off a fast runner. When he goes after a ground hit he goes after it like a runaway gondola loaded with coal—but he gets it, if it is getable. And when once one of those ponderous hands clamps down on the pellet there it remains quietly until the great shortstop wings it on its way.
“Wagner’s pegging is something to ponder. Several times in the Kansas City series he would field a sharply hit line drive lazily, merely lobbing the ball over to first and beating the runner only by a step.
“’Shucks,’ remarked some of the bugs who were watching Honus for the first time, ‘that guy’s as slow as molasses. A fast man would have beat him.’
“Wait a bit though. There goes a fast man—and his hit was a slow one . But he’s out, by the same distance. And if you want to see Honus really peg, watch him finishing up a double play. The big frame moves like a streak. He gets the ball away in a twinkle—and it nearly knocks the first baseman off the bag.”
Wagner
Next Johnson described Wagner at the plate:
“At bat Honus is a study. He is built like a piano mover above the waist and below he resembles a pair of parenthesis. He is one of the few celebrities who can stand bowlegged and pigeon-toed at one and the same time, and he does it with ease and aplomb. At least it looks very much like aplomb.
“Hans twiddles his ponderous bat as if it weighed about as much as a feather duster. He balances it between his fingers, pulls down his cap and takes his stand–bowlegged and pigeon-toed—well back of the plate. You see the reason for the latter.
“Wagner watches the ball from the time pitcher starts his delivery. He steps into the pitch with a long, swinging stride, and meets the ball with a heave of his whole powerful frame. It looks very easy, and there is a certain grace about it too. But what you mainly notice is the streaky appearance of the ball, whatever way it may travel, tearing its way through the hands of an infielder or flying like an arrow over the outfield.”
Wagner
Johnson said, in the final game of the series, Wagner “walked into the first” pitch he saw in the eighth inning:
“He did not seem to hit the ball hard, yet, it soared away into the top of the center field bleachers—one of the longest hits ever made inside the park.”
The Pittsburgh Post called the home run, “a wallop into the center field bleachers…the longest hit of the series.”
As for Wagner himself, Johnson said:
“Hans is a likable chap—a retiring, modest sort of star. He is fond of dogs and collects strays in nearly every city he visits. He can’t bear to see a dog hungry. If he can’t provide for them elsewhere he ships them home, where he has a dog farm collected in that way. Hans’ main pet is a Dachshund, whose legs, he says, are dead ringers for his own.
“And he’s a great old boy, is Honus. And you can start something with nearly any bug by suggesting that there is a greater player doing business today.”
Baseball History Daily 
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