Gow the Head Hunter

We headed out into the Pacific Ocean

200 miles off the coast of California

to pick up the trade wind that would carry us

down toward the equator.

Salisbury and his party made the round the world

expedition aboard The Gypsy.

It was a yacht 161 feet long.

It had a crew of 18 and there were

13 scientists aboard.

We had a laboratory for the development

of moving picture film and the preservation

of specimens to be collected,

an ice machine

and we were well stocked

for a long cruise in the tropics.

But, just before reaching the equator,

you run into the Doldrums.

That's a vast expanse of water where there

is very little, if any, wind.

We had a diesel engine

and we turned on our power and had no difficulty

getting across this quiet expanse of ocean.

The boys, during that time, mended everything

but their ways.

And, here you see Captain Salisbury's cleaners at work

and, boy, could they clean.

They invented the game of Blackjack.

And, they had me cleaned the first day in the tropics.

Very few of the sailors, today, know the knots

that are necessary in the making of a hammock.

This old fellow had been a deep water sailor,

he had been to the tropics before

and he knew that a very necessary part

of the equipment was a hammock.

When you pick up these clouds known as

a trade clouds on the other side of the Doldrums,

you know that you're just about to get

the trade wind that will carry you on to the equator.

And, when that shot of the sun was taken,

we were just 75 miles northeast

of the Marquesas Group.

Each man wanted to be the first to sight land

so he appointed himself a lookout.

The Marquesas Group is to be our first destination.

It belongs to the French.

And, is formed by a number of small islands.

The missionaries compel a man to wear cotton pants

and shirts and they put hideous Mother Hubbard

wrappers on the women.

The natives were not accustomed to this.

They became very warm.

Their clothing became saturated with perspiration

and they'd sit in the cool trade winds.

The wind blowing through the wet cloth

gave them colds and this turned into pneumonia.

And, thousands of them died.

Today, I doubt very much if there are 300 Marquesans left.

They lead a carefree life, these Marquesans.

Getting as much joy as possible out of each day.

They don't need fish hooks, they use spears underwater.

And, a Marquesan always gets his fish.

Fish are very plentiful and the Marquesan is clever.

That's a good combination.

Frying pans weren't used.

They eat 'em raw.

And, I guess the fish, if given his choice,

would rather be bitten by the white teeth

of a Marquesan maiden than the teeth

of a hungry shark.

At least, I would.

On shore, we found fruits and vegetables

growing in perfusion.

This is a mango, a very delicious tropical fruit.

If you don't object to the slight taste of turpentine.

But, that taste is very slight.

You don't notice it after you've eaten

the fruit several days.

It's delicious and you don't care how much juice

runs down your chin and inside of your shirt.

And, believe me, that's plenty.

The bred fruit grows on a fine, large tree.

It's a staple article of diet of the Marquesan.

Flowers were everywhere and of every imaginable color.

And, there's another beautiful thing

found in the Marquesas Group, the girls.

They're lovely.

They're just happy, grown up children.

They spend their days dancing, swimming

and singing on the beach.

They wear a single garment called a pareu.

It's about twice as wide as a bath towel and twice as long.

They take this and give it a quick flip

around their bodies and tuck under the ends.

There are no buttons or hooks or pins or suspenders

but I'm darned if I ever saw one of them fall off.

And, believe me, I watch carefully.

Some day, when the picking is good,

this girl oughta pick herself a shirtwaist.

So lucky your captain can visit one of these islands

and get away with his entire crew

because some of the boys are tempted to dessert.

But, you can't blame the fellas.

The girls are friendly.

It's really a great place for a young man.

Or for an old man with young ideas.

We had no difficulties getting these girls to dance

but it was difficult to get them to stop.

Whenever they heard music and saw the camera set up,

they danced.

Well, they insisted on getting into the picture.

We're gonna let 'em wriggle out of it the best way they can.

The natives told us that it rains

everyday in the year in Samoa.

But, it generally takes the form of hard showers at night.

Plenty of sunshine during the day

results in a luxurious growth of tropical vegetation.

Part of the coast of Somoa, of the island of Tutuila,

is rocky, which may differ from your idea

of a South Sea island beach.

But, they have these palm lined beaches

and whenever you find one,

you generally find a collection of native huts.

To be a good South Sea island dancer

requires years of training.

You have to start almost from the cradle.

This little kiddie got a pretty early start.

But, imagine exercising like this

in the hot sun when you don't have to.

The sitting siva dance of the women of Somoa,

according to Robert Louis Stevenson,

who spent a great many years in the South Seas

and who is buried in the Samoan Group,

is the most graceful dance in the world.

Every movement made by these women tell a story.

They tell of their past lives, of their present existence

and of their hopes and fears for the future.

The women are good dancers in Samoa

but they men are better.

The women have a few tasks to perform.

But, when America took possession of Samoa,

the men learned that in America,

the politicians didn't work so all the men

in Samoa have become politicians.

They don't work, all they do is dance and talk politics.

And, in their dance, their movements

tell of the history of Samoa.

The Samoans kept no written record of their history.

All of the incidents were handed down from one generation

to another in the movements of the siva.

It must be very interesting to one who can

interpret the movements of this dance.

Now, you've had your glimpse of Polynesia.

You've seen the natives and you've seen

the happy, carefree lives they lead.

Now, you can compare all this with what

you're going to find in Melanesia,

for we're just about to cross the 180th Meridian

and we'll be among the Blacks.

It's in Melanesia we find the cannibals

and the head hunters.

Our first stop will be at the Fiji Islands,

a British strong colony.

75 years ago, to speak of the Fiji Islands

brought up visions of cannibalism.

But, today, according to the British government

and the missionaries, cannibalism has ceased.

The natives are trained to police the islands

of the group wherever there are Whites.

It may be possible that the Fiji Islander

living so close to the dividing line

between Polynesia and Melanesia

has had the Melanesian blood softened

by the Polynesian strain and proves

more susceptible to the influences of civilization.

The children are very intelligent looking,

considering the fact that their grandparents

were cannibals.

But, they have the queerest types of haircut.

Each one had his or her idea of beauty in a haircut.

This girl washed her hair that morning

and couldn't do a thing with it.

And, this fella cuts his hair with a hammer and a chisel.

They just reverse our method of building a house.

They build the framework of the roof and lift it

and then build the underpart of the hut.

Then, they thatch the whole thing with palm leaves

and grass and reeds.

And, it may surprise you to know that a hut,

built in this way, is waterproof.

The rainfall in the Fijis is very heavy.

They have a great many bananas in this group,

practically all the bananas used in Australia

and New Zealand are shipped from the Fiji Islands.

They break each banana from the bunch

and package separately.

The bananas are brought down the rivers

on great bamboo rafts.

After the raft is unloaded, it's burned.

For it's a great deal easier to go back up the river

and build another raft then it would be