DULUTH AND SUPERIOR, MAY 13
THE WILD WEST
Amy Leslie. brilliant descriptive writer and art critic contributes 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 tauned 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
