The Showman & Show Indians

In the Congress — Rough Riders of the World, I am gainfully employed as an Indian, where I parade into the big top riding a buffalo runner, holding Le Petit, flanking Buffalo Bill raising Lucretia Borgia to the cheering crowds in the bleachers, feeding their desire to see “the principles of stereotypes and archetypes of the West” [20] and the “breaking of fractious steeds,” [21] whirlwind races against Mexicans, Bedouins, Gauchos, Vaqueros and Cossacks, we ride into the arena dust carried by the sound of the Star Spangled Banner, the press of horses, jangle of tack, the vibrating crowd in the presence of smoked buckskin, fringes, feathers, headdress, eagle staff, breast plate and braids, we ride under bright lights to the boom, boom, boom of the marching band’s kettle drum. Little Sure Shot shooting a dime from Frank Butler’s fingers, she with her L.C. Smith double-barrelled hammerless shotgun, the cavalry with Winchesters. We ride, Pahaska, the showman marshalling the re-enactment of the Battle of Little Big Horn, a bison hunt, a train robbery, the attack of a burning cabin, we ride whooping pageantry, in mock battles before the Improved Order of the Red Men, we show Indians, those of the horse and buffalo culture given a final chance to be ourselves and many had a good time playing Indian; the only safe kind to be