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SOUP’S ON – AN EXPLORATION OF THE LIFE AND DEATH OF MICHAEL ROCKEFELLER
He gasped, peering at the far shore again. He must be at least half-way there by now. It seemed as if he had been swimming for hours, although the sun indicated otherwise. “I must keep going. The current will turn in a few hours and if I haven’t reached shore by then, I’ll be swept out to sea, almost certainly not to be found again.” Sighing, he redoubled his efforts.
He thought back to his earlier decision to return to the Asmat, choosing an area with settlements he had not visited before. He had cajoled his companions into joining him. They stocked their catamaran with trade goods and set off for the ocean trip to the far Southeastern part of the Asmat territory. A sudden freak storm came upon them and the buffeting waves came from two directions upon him – one from the river, the other from the ocean. The battling waves flipped the catamaran, leaving the three men clinging to the hull. They were approximately fourteen miles from the shore, and Michael decided to attempt the swim to the shore after the sun rose. He would try to convince the tribesmen living there to come out in their canoes and rescue the others.
“They tried their best to talk me out of this,” he acknowledged to himself. “No matter what happens, it’s not their fault.” His companions had insisted he tie two empty fuel cans to his belt to give him additional buoyancy; but although they tried to convince him to stay with the catamaran, hoping that they would be found and rescued within a day or two, Michael was determined to go.
He hadn’t been among these particular tribal groups in the past, although people from the various tribes did visit from settlement to settlement. Such visits were not always cordial, however. It was his hope and goal to collect a variety of high-quality primitive artwork from them to bring back to New York City. He wanted to establish an exhibition with an accompanying book detailing the largest Asmat tribal arts collection on exhibit anywhere in the world.
It was a good goal. He had first met the people of Asmat, a large area of southern New Guinea, six months earlier while working as a sound engineer on a groundbreaking film called “Dead Birds” by filmmaker Robert Gardner. Michael fell in love with the woodworking crafts produced by the various tribes of the Asmat area and traveled whenever he could, on his rare days off, to collect a variety of pieces, especially trying to obtain some of the bisj poles, 20-foot-high carved masterpieces. The bisj were treasured, however, and he had no success obtaining any. Before traveling to New Guinea, he had contacted Adrian Gerbrands, the deputy director of the Dutch National Museum of Ethnology who had started exploring the region of Asmat and had some recommendations for areas, tribal groups and specific types of artwork for Michael to focus on.
Michael was in his element. This was what he wanted to do – not be a leader of business and industry but be a collector and purveyor of primitive artworks. The tribes of the Asmat were barely known at that time. Priests had been among them for slightly less than a decade, and their exposure to white men and Western culture had been minimal. Michael traveled to various native villages, meeting the people, watching their interactions and ceremonies, and obtaining small, beautifully carved woodwork pieces.
These were not primitive people. Within their environment, they were superior. They were not technological people, but they had a highly organized society, filled with gods and spirits and strict rules of behavior. Their behavior and rules wouldn’t work within “Western” societal norms, but it was normal behavior for the people of the Asmat. A death was always met with a death. The men sometimes shared their wives and sometimes had sex with other men. They also were headhunters - hunting down other tribesmen and eating their flesh. Their highly complex language dealt with the world surrounding them, but also acknowledged realms of the dead and the unseen, as well as spirits and spirit guides. It was a hand-to-mouth existence, but when the weather and waters cooperated, it was a good life.
On Michael’s second trip to New Guinea a few months after his first foray, he was unaware of other activities that had happened between the Dutch government and the tribal peoples of Asmat. Four years earlier, a Dutch official trying to establish his governmental authority, had fired upon the headsman of a village, killing four men. Suddenly modern technology had pushed its way into a land that fought wars with posturing, spears, arrows, and poison darts. Now the die had been cast and life would never be the same again. These deaths by the distant Government didn’t sit well with the tribes. Things that had been in balance were no longer in balance. Now Michael was swimming/floating right into the eye of the storm.
The men in the canoes surrounding an exhausted Michael knew without doubt that a sacrifice was required to bring the world back into balance. Later tales and interviews pointed to Michael’s being killed almost immediately after making shore. He was murdered by several highly-placed members of the tribe which had four people killed by bullets on that memorable day a few years before.
A fire was built, and after time the flames died down to hot coals. Michael’s stripped body was placed among them and roasted. “Soup’s on” or the equivalent probably echoed in the trees when he was fully cooked and his flesh and bones were distributed between the tribal leaders and their followers. The head went to the man who killed him, his long bones were given to the heads of the four families who had their people shot those years ago. Eventually everyone had eaten from his corpse and he had been completely dismembered.
Although a priest was told the story of the killing a month after the act occurred, it was a decade or more before it was corroborated and thoroughly investigated. Michael Rockefeller was declared legally dead in 1964.
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Author’s Note: If you’re interested in more information, I strongly recommend an article published in “Smithsonian” (https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/What-Really-Happened-to-Michael-Rockefeller-180949813/)
If you would be interested in seeing some of the artwork from the Asmat region, the University of St Thomas in St Paul, Minnesota has the largest collection in the USA. The website for the artwork can be viewed here. https://gallery.collectorsystems.com/public/UniversityofStThomas/3285 There are a lot of pages in the collection, and they are alphabetical, so if you want to see some bisj poles, check the B’s. I went through every page and, unfortunately, it’s only approximately 1/10th of the full collection of 3000+ items, but the items I was able to view were magnificent. I’ll have to make a field trip to the museum one of these days to see them in person.
Also, as a trained anthropologist, I knew of Michael Rockefeller’s disappearance and probable death, but not the specifics. Still, it seemed to fit the “Soup’s On” criteria, so once again I fell back on my training to give you a story based in fact. Life as an enthnographer isn’t always easy, however, that first picture in the Smithsonian article is indicative of how amazing ethnography can be. There is nothing but pure joy on Michael’s face as he holds his photographic equipment and just watches the dancers surrounding him.
no subject
- Erulisse (one L)