Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1889-06-24
10, THE WOODEN INDIAN.
HE IS CARVED OUT OF PINE IN Def.
ANCE OF NATURE.
4 Maker of Cigar Signs Tells the Secrets
of His Trade-The Indian Per-
ennially Popular.
From the New York star.l

Here, Pop, I've got all done but the
top. What color shall paint that?" The
specialized wood-carver looked up from the
bit of cardboard that he was lettering and
said, in answer to his sons interruption !:
Paint the head red, Jimmy" Jimmy, a
lad of thirteen, with symptoms of incipi-
ent painters collie, was devoting his best
energies and the last fifteen minutes be-
fore dinner to the decoration of a wooden
squaw in colors whose brilliancy and va
riety would have shamed the splendors of
the first rainbow. The little shop down
in Goerck street was a sort of tawdry
statuary hall, Respondent with the COR
geous presence of half dozen cigar store
Indians in various states of incompleteness.
A tall squaw, having a scornful face as vet
unadorned with eyes, occupied consplcu-
Gus place in the room; her drapery, con-
sisting of yellow blanket and red buff
falo robe, skillfully arranged so as to dis
play a swelling bosom and a pair of mon
strous calves. "a special ORDER" said the
wood carver "the man would have that
buffalo robe red because he thought it
would attract attention.
'Our business might be called artistic"
he continued, "but there haint much
money into it. Years ago, when | was a
young apprentice, | had the honor of max
ing two fine ship fgureheadS They rep
resented parties standin' full length, with
scrolls in their hands. | don't know who
the parties was and | don't know the
names of the ships, but l was proud of the
Job. That sort of business, though. dropped
off fifteen years ago. The American peo-
pie is economical to the detriment of art,
and our business isn't appreciated as it
ought to be. do little or nothing now
but make and repair Indians and letter
cards with sentiments such as them"
The carver spoke with the air of man
whose art had been prostituted to the
sordid demands Of trade. He set no store
by the Indians turned in whole tribes and
fashioned with small regard for the truth
of nature. "They don't look like Indians,
you know" he said, with amiable frank
ness. mo Indian ever had features like
that big fellow there, and | reckon there
never was a squaw who dressed like that
one with the red buffalo robe. If we made
'em like real Indians they'd be too ugly to
sell. We have no models, but Just keep
on making them as they've been made for
the last fifty years. The idea is to make
them look pretty, and work in as many
colors as possible. Sometimes we get
seven or eight different tints, besides gid
ing. What are they made of? White
pine. 1t works easy. We hack EN- out
with saw and Ratchet, rough 'em up with
big tools and polish 'em off with finer i'm
plements. Jimmy, show the gentleman
the logs in the cellar"
Jimmy promptly led the way to the
underground lumber room, where lay half
dozen great pine logs from sixteen to
twenty-four feet in length. Against the
wall leaned a rudely hacked piece of tim
Der that looked like damaged gate post.
Jimmy averred that in time this would be
a splendid squaw, with painted skirt
and headdress of plumes. He pointed
out where each leg would be, which way
the face would turn and how the arms
would appear. The figure, limbs, pedestal
and all were to be carved from the single
log in one piece. 1t did not seemed to
contain the promise and potency of the
cleverly carved figures in the shop above
but Jimmy had faith that he and his
father would yet evolve from the unsightly
log comely squaw of conventional pat
tern.
at takes from six to sixteen days to
make one of these figures" said the master
Of the shop, taking up the thread of his
discourse. THE simpler ones can be whit
tied out in three days and painted in three
more. The big, complicated figures, with
tomahawks and wampum necklaces and
beaded bows, take week or more and the
painting requires nearly as long. That
squaw, you see, isn't the right color for
squaw. That's only the groundwork
We've got to paint her copper color to-
morrow. Then we've got to put in her
eyes. They may be blue, gray or brown.
After that comes the fine work on the
feather head-dress. Nobody cares much
what they look like, so they're snowy, and
paints the thing that makes 'em sell.
What do they cost? From SIS to $50. A
good Indian, well taken care of, will last
thirty years. Once year he ought to be
sent back for repairs. Taste in Indians
does not change much, and my customers
trust 20 me to do the thing right. Yes,
we deal in secondhand Indians" he con-
tlnued, glancIng up at the faded Splendors
of a squaw, over whose arm the wood
carver's street coat was hung for want of
a better clothesrack.
"When man moves to a new place he
sometimes gets fresh Indian. We take
the old one off his hands and sell it to
some small dealer. We used to make ne
groes from AS to about go, but later they
got unpopular. Then the Girl of the
Period and the Greciau Bend had to go,
but mostly the trade runs steady on In
dams. Going? Well, you may say that
business is dull, though it might be worse;
but on the whole, the public doesn't appre-
ciate our art as it once did,