How does the proverbial Cigar Store Indian still exist, in modern Manhattan of all places, where we conned the Native Americans out of their homes and killed them off with our foreign diseases? This substantial statue in Soho, a little worse for wear around the nasal area but otherwise in pretty good shape, guards a small cigar shop filled with twenty-somethings pretending to be adults smoking cigars. In the City that practically wets itself (oh, alright, it does wet itself) celebrating Columbus Day with a parade and all the fluffernutter that entails, we forget that there were people living here before the Europeans invaded.
This statue should’ve been moved to Washington DC along with the National Museum of the American Indian back in the 1990s.
I’m sure there must be other Cigar Store Indians left in the City. If anyone spots one, send me a pic.
Cassie Thornton's Life, Loves, and the Tarot 