The Bismarck tribune. [volume] (Bismarck, N.D.) 1916-current, 1927-07-26

Let US go back 20 years to get
! some atmosphere of those days when
the peerless Johnson arrived and, in
cidcntally. to introduce Walter John
son as | first saw him.
It was a night late in the summer
of 1907. | was sitting in front of the
old Regent House in Washington,
chatting with Joe Cantillon, then
manager Of the Washington club, and
Jack Sheridan, greatest of all
umpires, TO whom | am indebted for
whatever. little success | have gained
as Il major league Arbitrator
The conversation shifted from one
baseball topic to another. Plays and
players We're discussed pro and con
until the three of US were forced
into brief silence, only to be broken
by tant;llon with fireworks:
Looks as if would have to get
the railroad companies TO send out
q tracer after this fellow Walter
Johnson"
why and who is Walter Johnson ."
asked Sheridan.
He's a pitcher from the wilds Of
Idaho who doesn't throw anything
but strikes" answered Cantillon.
w ould there We're more pitchers
like hin!' came from both Sheridan
and myself in unison.
Il received n wire from the man
we sent out there to sign him saying
Johnson had started east and should
arrive III Washington within five
day. He is now two days late"
had never heard much of Walter
johnson up To that evening and. Of
course, had no idea what he looked
Ike Hptrnynp 1lnn
his speech about the ''busher." who
was two days late in arriving from
Weiser, Idaho, or thereabouts, | saw
a tall, gangling fellow approaching
with brand new suit case swinging
from his right hand as if it CON
tanned no excess baggage. / decided
ne was either very strong young
man or was travelling light. Later
events proved | was right in both de-
ductions.
why, here he comes!" ex-
claimed, as | looked in the strangers
direction. ! was merely joshinr.
hadn't the slightest idea that the
young man who handled the big hand
bag as if it were a vanity case was
Walter Johnson. Cantillon and Sher
idan merely glanced in his direction.
then switched the conversation. It
was only a few minutes before he
had pulled up in front of where we
were sitting.
as this the hotel where the Wash
ington ball players stop?' he asked.
"Only good Ones" replied Cantil-
Ion, who was keen for his joke, no
matter who suffered
"Then | guess this is no place for
me-" The youngster had set his suit
case down as he talked with Cantil-
Ion. 1t gave me chance to survey
him closely. He seemed undecided
as to what to do.
/ could see he was we'll over six
feet, despite the fact that there was
a bit of stoop at the shoulders.
His features were clean cut as if
chiseled. He was good to look it.
His arms were tremendously long.
He was in perfect condition. There
wasn't an ounce of fat on his giant
physique.
'Then / guess this is no place for
me-" he repeated. Suiting his actions
to his words, - stepped over to
where he had dropped his suit Ease.
picked it up and was about to start
on his way when Cantillon asked:
"And who might you be?'
! my name is Walter Johnson"
Cantillon, never a demonstrative
fellow, jumped to his feet and greet
ed the youngster like a long lost
brother, asked where he had been.
told how he had been watching every
train for the last two days and q
lot Of other nice things that made
Mr.. Walter johnson Immediately feel
~ home.