Page 38 - Sorrow of the Earth: Buffalo Bill, Sitting Bull and the Tragedy of Show Business

against him in the form of alcohol, tobacco, indolence and unfortunate

business deals.
General Miles came into the bar from time to time, and the queen of Pine
Ridge was uneasy on these occasions. Miles would drink, become
progressively mean and physically violent. He’d get completely sozzled,
knock the tables over and, twisting her arm, try to drag her off to the outhouse.
She was a little afraid of the old piss artist. And even though Buffalo Bill
spent his nights boozing and playing cards, she preferred his ridiculous

baritone voice, his goatee beard and his tasselled jackets, because he was
gentler. But General Miles wasn’t at Pine Ridge that day; there was only
Leonard Colby, Buffalo Bill and Major John Burke, the impresario.

When Leonard Colby talked afterwards about the Pine Ridge episode, he
never—but never—talked about the night he spent in Asay’s bar in the
company of Buffalo Bill and Burke. He was nonetheless capable of saying all
sorts of things to impress his audience, or to con journalists and the Indians he

sometimes did business with, but he never told how Burke, with his ugly great
mug, had talked to him, for the first time, between two rounds of hooch, about
the little Indian girl. No, that he never talked about. He never said a word
about the discussion where Burke first mentioned Zintkala Nuni, a tiny baby
found at Wounded Knee, a little girl, “the most interesting Indian relic of all”,
a tiny infant discovered a few days after the drama, who had survived by a
miracle (and you can imagine with horror how Burke managed to emphasize

the word, like a puppet nodding its head). No, Leonard Colby never talked
about it, not to the journalists, nor to the guests in his grand sitting room, nor
to anyone else. He never said how much Burke had paid—a pretty stiff price,
it’s said, but Burke didn’t want people to know this either, and he kept it
secret throughout his life—because Burke had bought the child. Yes, he had

doubtless bought it for the Wild West Show. Well, perhaps not. But why else
would he have done it, if it wasn’t to put the baby on show and add a
sensational number to his programme: The Tiny Survivor of Wounded Knee?
And then Buffalo Bill and John Burke must have changed their minds and
decided to resell the child. We’ll never know why.
At that moment, General Colby’s heart started to beat very fast. He’d
smelled a bargain. What could be better for his trafficking with the Indians

than to adopt a little squaw? And since there’s no incompatibility between
business and tears—on the contrary—because hoodlums, being the world’s