79

People's Press DULUTH AND SUPERIOR, MAY 13, 1893

THE WILD WEST

Amy Leslie. brilliant descriptive writer
and art critic contribute to the Chicago
News a long article in which she takes the
same position as THE PEOPLE'S PRESS, i.e.,
that Buffalo Bill's American Historical
Exhibit is the most appropriate and interesting
department of the World's Fair.
Buffalo Bill's Park adjoins Jackson Park.
and is therefore virtually a department of
the Exposition, although under a separate
management. The amiable Amy says:

Some time ago I listened to a pleasant
discourse upon World's-Fair art by Lorado
Toft, and though intensely enthusiastic
and complimentary, as every one must
needs be in commenting upon the exquisite
works, about every third model Mr. Taft
would dismiss with the significantly amiable
remark: "I do not quite knɔw what it represents
or signifies, except that it is eminently
artistic and beautiful." That is the
one absent quality in the gracious art smiling
with life at our portals. It does not
quite mean anything American, and therefore
does not speak to stranger visitors of
our nation, but reminds them of their own,
and commemoration of signal events are
not entitled to so much of a country's homage.
It is one thing to discover a world
and another to people it, jewel it with heaven's
gentlest benisons and slays for the
might, glory and perfection of all its promised
wealth. If any memory of the pioneer
force in American culture is indicated
in the World's-Fair decorative exhibitions it
must be very stealthily expressed. In
place of gilded Dianas and huge Ajaxes,
winged houris and exultant dragons, how
infinitely more surprising and dramatic
would have been e group of ungovernable
prairie horses, startling western riders and
Daniel Boone, Kit Carson, old Jim Bridger
and Buffalo Bill. Of course the primitive
slush of illiterate penny dreadfuls has tarnished
the princely achievements of this
type of American hero. We are accustomed
to a sort of dime-novel or Frank
Chanfrau interpretation of there splendid
characters and the proof of great worthiness
is that even under so uncouth a cloud they
have always shone out resplendent.

I was more impressed with this forgivable
virtue by a visıt to Cody's if Wild West" today.
There is the American Exposition
which will attract foreigners when they are
tired of staring at the Italian gentleness
of faultless outlines and evidence of superb
culture. They will bring up at the
Cody show every time and they will find
Americans real Americans, there-if not
in the audience, in the performance.

How a heroic statue of Buffalo Bill, with
his magnificent physique, picturesque accouterments
and scout impetuosity,
would, have stood out among the dulcet
elegances of foreign art! Clad in fringed
deer-skins-than which not Grecian drapery
is more genuinely graceful and artistic -
with the high boots which typify hardship
and the country's savage estate, his inseparable
gun, fiery horse and incomparable inherent
pose!

and the beating of tightened drums and
shuffle of moccasined feet. The younger
braves are executing a ghost dance and are
arrayed in startling coa's of paint and tufts
of feathers, principally paint, One splendidly
built young fellow is naked to his feet
except a cloud of taunted dog-skin about
his loins, gorgeously embroidered in beads
and feather-bones. He is painted a a warm
terra cotta and, as he dances, his back is a
study of delicate muscles and perfection in
outline. A study little Indian boy is called
out of the dance, which he leaves reluctantly
to greet me. He is the baby, growing
very fast, which Burke found wandering
among the dead on the field of Wounded
Knee, and boasts the cosmopolitan title
of Johnnie Burke No Neck.

Instead of familiar old Ceres (this time in
such luxury of grace and plenty) or inexhaustible
Bacchus, sacred bovines and impious
feasters, an America would have lifted
on the walls of agricultural hall great
palsy-eyed Texas steers, feather-crested
Indians, a sundance, a Rucky mountain
hero, or an even dozen of them and a wilderness
of picturesque beauty. On the highest
point of vantage, instead of pillaging
buried art, America might have been honored
with the effort of an artist who felt the
magnitude of his own country. Any one
of the men employed would have greeted
the innovation with rejoices. They must
be tired as the least enthusiastic of us of endless
views of the myths, the gods and the
artistic chestnuts. Fancy a nineteenth century
artist deliberately perching himself
upon a ladder to map out a Diana or Triton
at all comparable with the hundreds which
have confronted him during his studies
abroad in every investigated quarter from
the catacombs to Monte Carlo. While
Church, our decisive creator, must needs
distort his brush with "The Viking's
Daughter" Macmonnies, Millet. Symonds
and the rest of the Columbian immortals
have wrestled with gigantic beauties of
antiquity until the wonderful Fair look
least like America of any place this side
of the world of the obelisks. Any one of
these artists "or the greater ones of the nations
with charming art would have reveled
in the novelty of picturesque America. It
might not have necessarily interfered with
the encyclical marble appearance of the Apollos,
Venuses, Hebes and adipose Cupids,
but what Americans might have enjoyed
showing the congress of nations would be
re types of our own idolized heroes, the
like of which ornament no other history.
Our warriors, pioneers, savages and broad
acres. I-it is I, because I am American
from the crown of my head to the ground
my feet caress-I'd have reveled in a colossal
reproduction of the adored heroes inspiring
American boys of the last century to
courageous undertaking, press of civilization
and the audacious vehemence of rightful
war. Now, about the only art-remembrance
of the march of stupendous America improvement
is epitomized in one man's magnificent
puma.

A kindly old lady then takes me into an
adjoining canvas, where she has piles of unfinished
costumes and sewing machines that