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

DULUTH AND SUPERIOR, MAY 13

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 everyone must needs be in commenting upon the exquisite works, about every third model Mr. Tatt 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 the: e 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 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 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 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 with "The Viking's 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 an 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