Joe Rogan almost has the Michael Rockefeller story right. The real version is darker, and it reads like a thriller.
November 1961. Michael Rockefeller is 23, a fresh Harvard grad and the son of New York Governor Nelson Rockefeller, one of the richest families on earth.
He could have done anything. He chose the swamps of Dutch New Guinea, home of the Asmat people, master woodcarvers and, at the time, still practising headhunting.
He was collecting their art: towering carved ancestor poles, shields, canoes. He wanted to bring it back to New York.
Then his catamaran flipped in rough water at a river mouth, miles off the coast.
Michael and a Dutch companion, René Wassing, clung to the hull and drifted. Hours passed. No rescue. Michael made a decision.
He tied two empty fuel cans to his body as floats and told Wassing he thought he could make it to shore.
Wassing was rescued the next day. Michael was never seen again.
What followed was one of the largest searches of its era: ships, planes, helicopters, thousands of locals combing the coast. His father flew in personally. Nothing.
The family accepted the official explanation: he drowned, or sharks got him.
But the Dutch missionaries living among the Asmat heard a different story, almost immediately.
Three years earlier, in 1958, a Dutch police patrol had raided the village of Otsjanep and shot several of its leaders. In Asmat culture, a killing created a debt. The spirits of the dead couldn’t rest until balance was restored.
And three years later, a white man walked out of the sea, exhausted, alone, onto their beach.
According to the accounts the missionaries collected, the Otsjanep men didn’t see a Rockefeller. They saw payback.
The reports were filed and then buried. A colonial government in a fragile region didn’t want a scandal. A grieving family didn’t want to hear it.
In 2014, journalist Carl Hoffman went back, lived with the Asmat and published Savage Harvest. His conclusion: the missionaries were right. Michael made it to shore, and the village settled its debt.
Not because he insulted them over a sacred object, as Joe suggests. Because of something done by men he never met, years before he arrived.
Today, the art Michael collected sits in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, in a wing bearing his name.
And the Jameson whiskey story Jamie pulls up in the clip? Also real.
1888, the Congo. James Sligo Jameson, heir to the distillery, was on Stanley’s expedition. In a village on the river, he was told he’d witness something if he paid. He paid six handkerchiefs.
He later wrote that he never imagined it was real until it happened, and called it the most sickening sight of his life. He died of fever months later, before he could fully answer for it.
Two heirs. Two of the richest families of their era. Two lessons the hard way: money doesn’t buy you understanding of a culture you walk into.
History is wilder than any podcast.
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He died. They still played the football game. No postponement. They just took the body off the field and played the game regardless of what just happened. Am I the only person disturbed by this?
The Catholic priest who died after a crucifix fell on him was talking about how everyone will be dead one day and the importance of giving your life to God.
“Dear brothers and sisters, one day, all of us here will also die…” said Father Patricio Sánchez Molinari of Ecuador.
“Dear brothers and sisters, one day we will all die, and the time we spent on trivial things will prove far less meaningful than the time we invested in God,” he said again.
“The quality time we gave to Him, to our brothers and sisters, to our spouses, to our children, and to our families… That is time well spent, dear brothers and sisters.”
Just moments later, the crucifix fell on him and killed him.
It’s actually crazy how you grow up thinking home-cooked meals every day are just normal, then get older and realise how much time and effort it took your Mom to make that happen and how lucky you were to have that.