The Cincinnati Zoo’s Darkest Exhibit: Native Americans on Display

In 1896, Native Americans were put on public display at the Cincinnati Zoo as part of a fabricated “village” exhibit. It wasn’t just Cincinnati—similar human exhibitions took place around the world, reinforcing damaging stereotypes. But how did these events happen, and why do their impacts still linger today? This week, we dig into one of the most shocking forgotten chapters of American history. Then we chat with Grammy-Winning Musician and Michael’s college buddy, Josh Quillen.

In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, so-called “human zoos” were disturbingly common. At World’s Fairs and expositions, indigenous people were placed into fabricated “villages” where they lived, worked, and performed for curious white audiences. In 1889, at the Paris Exposition, 400 indigenous people were placed on display. In 1904, the St. Louis World’s Fair exhibited entire families from the Philippines in faux “Igorrote Villages.” In 1906, Ota Benga, a Congolese man, was displayed inside the Bronx Zoo’s monkey house.

Visitors didn’t see these human beings as equals — they saw them as exotic attractions, something between science and sideshow. These exhibitions weren’t small controversies — they were wildly popular, attracting millions of visitors.

Cincinnati, Ohio was no different.

By 1896, the Cincinnati Zoo and Botanical Garden was already well-established.
It had opened in 1875, becoming the second-oldest zoo in the United States. At the time, America was obsessed with the myth of the “Vanishing Indian” — the racist belief that Native Americans were a “dying race,” destined to fade away under the pressure of modernization. Rather than preserve Native cultures with dignity, the attitude was to romanticize them as relics — something to be observed before they disappeared.

So when Cincinnati Zoo administrators decided to construct a Native American village exhibit, it didn’t raise many eyebrows. They recruited members of various Native nations — primarily Apache and Pueblo — and brought them to Cincinnati to live in a staged encampment for public view. Visitors could stroll past the giraffes and elephants… and then watch real human beings in reconstructed huts and tepees, performing daily tasks.

Where did they come from? 

Well In 1895, a group of Cree Indians from Montana found themselves stranded in Bellevue, Kentucky, after the collapse of a Wild West show. The Cincinnati Zoo offered them a temporary place to stay and work. The Cree signed contracts to live and perform at the zoo, showcasing aspects of their culture to visitors. Zoo Director Thane Maynard noted that this was intended as a cultural exhibit, not unlike inviting performers from distant places to share their traditions through performances.

These “performances” included dances, crafting demonstrations, and mock ceremonies. Some were loosely based on real traditions. Others were invented by promoters to meet audience expectations. The zoo provided costumes — often inaccurate, blending tribal styles into a cartoon version of Native identity. Despite this, the exhibit proved financially successful, generating $25,000 in just three months. This success led the zoo to organize a similar event the following year.

In 1896, the zoo hosted 89 Sicangu Sioux from the Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota. They established a village on the zoo grounds and participated in daily performances intended to educate the public about their way of life. This arrangement was made with approval from the Bureau of Indian Affairs. While the zoo’s records described the exhibit as an “incalculable success” educationally, it was not financially profitable.

Newspapers breathlessly promoted these exhibits, describing them as an “authentic look” into a disappearing way of life. Photos show families posed stiffly in buckskin costumes, looking out at crowds who stared back with fascination. No one asked what these individuals thought about being put on display. No one questioned the ethics of treating human lives as entertainment.

It’s important to note: not everyone involved was coerced. For some Native American families, joining these exhibits was a desperate survival strategy. Reservation conditions in the 1890s were devastating:

-Broken treaties

-Starvation

-Epidemic diseases

-Cultural suppression through forced boarding schools

Facing poverty and limited options, some individuals chose to work in traveling exhibitions and zoo shows. But choice under these conditions is complicated.
Economic coercion is still coercion. Participants lived under strict rules. Their movements were controlled. Their earnings were modest — often swallowed by managers and promoters. And in Cincinnati, as in other cities, once the public lost interest, the people were quietly dismissed — sent back to reservations, or into other exploitative touring shows.

By today’s standards, it’s horrifying. But at the time, it was seen as just another attraction — no more controversial than the elephant house. And Cincinnati wasn’t alone. Chicago’s 1893 Columbian Exposition hosted massive “Indian Villages.” Milwaukee’s zoo displayed Sioux performers in 1898. Even smaller towns hosted Wild West shows that blurred culture with caricature. The Cincinnati exhibit was part of a national phenomenon — one rooted deeply in colonialist thinking.

By 1896, putting humans on display had become big business — and hardly anyone questioned it. But what happened after the crowds moved on? And how did America finally reckon with this shameful history?

The Cincinnati Zoo didn’t keep detailed records of what happened to the Native Americans it exhibited. But based on patterns from other cities, it’s likely they were sent back to struggling reservations, or funneled into traveling shows like Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. Buffalo Bill’s show was a double-edged sword: It paid Native performers relatively well compared to reservation work. But it also cemented damaging stereotypes — portraying Native people as either noble savages or bloodthirsty warriors. 

Those Wild West shows traveled globally. Native performers were sent to Europe, where they performed in front of kings and queens — still playing roles written for them by white promoters. Many died abroad from illness. Others were stranded overseas when shows collapsed financially. In the U.S., when they returned, they found that American society had no place for them except poverty, discrimination, and cultural erasure.

The damage didn’t end when the exhibits closed. Public exhibitions helped entrench false ideas about Native Americans for generations. Movies picked up these stereotypes: The silent film era often portrayed Native people as either brutal enemies or tragic relics. Westerns reinforced clichés about “savage warriors” attacking wagon trains. Popular culture stripped away real Native diversity — 500+ nations, each with their own traditions and histories — and replaced it with a single, flattened image.

The Cincinnati Zoo’s exhibit wasn’t just entertainment. It was part of the machinery that erased real Native identity from the American imagination.

Today, many institutions that once hosted human exhibits have reckoned with their pasts. The Bronx Zoo formally apologized in 2020 for displaying Ota Benga. World’s Fair museums have added exhibits about the history of human zoos and racial exploitation. But the Cincinnati Zoo has not made a formal public statement regarding the 1896 Native American exhibit. While there is no official record of public calls for an apology from the zoo itself, the topic has garnered attention in local media and historical discussions. For instance, a 2014 feature by Cincinnati Public Radio (WVXU) revisited this history, and in a 2021 editor’s note, the outlet acknowledged shortcomings in its original reporting, including the use of culturally insensitive language and a lack of Indigenous perspectives. They expressed regret for these failings and the harm caused, emphasizing a commitment to transparency and accountability. The Cincinnati Museum Center has also contributed to the conversation by preserving artifacts and photographs from these exhibits, facilitating a more comprehensive understanding of this chapter in the city’s history. However, there is no indication that the Cincinnati Zoo has engaged in similar efforts to address or acknowledge this aspect of its past.

It remains a quiet, uncomfortable footnote in the zoo’s otherwise proud history. And it’s not often taught in schools. It’s not listed on official timelines. You have to dig to even find it. Which makes it all the more important to talk about.

Stories like the Cincinnati Zoo’s Native American exhibit force us to confront uncomfortable truths. They show how racism, entertainment, and ignorance intertwined — not centuries ago, but just over a hundred years ago. They remind us that history isn’t just about the good parts. It’s also about reckoning with the harm we’ve done. And it’s a call to listen more carefully to the voices of Native people today — voices that, against all odds, never disappeared. The Internet Says It’s True.

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