[?] Argaln Hunter

with cannibals as assistants, she's the . . .

Of The Jungle

No, no, those headings weren’t .applied by the “PIM” editors— rhey are the headings for a story \bout Madame Ingeborg de Beausacq n a recent issue of the American Magazine “Parade”. Illustrating the article is a studio photograph of %e attractive Madame perched delicately on a New Guinea ceremonial post, and surrounded by lew Guinea masks, faces and carvings enough to stock a museum.

"hey were all won by her in New vluinea, where she recently made er presence felt along the Sepik.

"‘he last that “PIM” heard of 'Aadame de Beausacq was a few nonths ago when she was headed i or Pakistan to organise the pro luction of women’s fashions for the Jnited States —a job, we gathered, ohich was likely to keep her away rom the Sepik for some time.

Here is what “Parade” had to ay about Madame de Beausacq’s \inancial adventures in cannibal and: rHE sleek, dimpled blonde in the lacy cocktail dress hardly looks like what she is: a real life ‘Queen of the Jungle”, who operates in exotic and highly adventuresome msiness.

As a dealer in primitive art ibjects, Ingeborg de Beausacq hacks .hrough the steaming bush of Topical New Guinea in search of mcestor statues, house posts, masks, jowls, and figurines for sale to American museums and collectors.

Some of her best sources of supply ire partly reformed head-hunters.

Ingeborg, however, feels that lead-hunters have been much naligned. In fact, her belief that lead-hunters are nice, friendly people in need of help started her n business.

As a New York fashion photo grapher, she got tired of the whirl jne day in 1957 and set off for New Guinea and adventure. Her life among the cannibals later was re ported in Parade (June 22, 1958).

The Big Idea Ingeborg found less adventure than she bargained for, cannibal ism was on the wane since Aus tralian authorities severely frowned on it. The head-hunters had been reduced to hunting crocodiles or raising peanuts for a meagre living.

That gave Ingeborg an idea.

American decorators, she knew, were gobbling up traditional primitive art of the kind New Guinea’s hard pressed cannibals specialised in.

Why not commission them to turn out carvings for the American decorator trade, and help them to a better standard of living?

Ingeborg went back to New Guinea in 1959 with her idea. The natives were delighted at the chance to work for 75 cents a day and a free loincloth. They were so helpful, in fact, that they almost torpedoed the whole project “They imitated everything they had ever seen in an American magazine,” Ingeborg recalls, “trays and pots and walking sticks, mostly.

It was awful junk.” . i i Her first task was to straighten out the assembly line. Once it was functioning smoothly, Ingeborg spent her time tracking down old carv ings. Negotiations to buy were elaborate. A . „ “First you have to be greeted, she says. “Then you’re conducted to the guest house. Then you have a drink of coconut juice. After some polite talk about the weather and the children, you get around to business.”

"Price Conference"

One bit of business negotiated by Ingeborg involved two 12-foot ceremonial posts. Considered the prize of her collection, they were about 50 years old, represented the work of 12 families.

She had to find the heirs of each family, get everyone’s permission to buy, hold a price conference —and then figure a way to get the posts out.

Made of ironwood, which is so heavy it won’t float, the posts re quired a 14-man carrying force for the trip out of the jungle.

Then lashed to Ingeborg’s power driven houseboat, they were hauled down the Sepik River to the nearest port.

Finally, along with 400 other carvings, the posts reached New York. Ingeborg, after seven months in slacks and mosquito net, came back with them.

But now in cocktail dress and high heels, she’s eager to return to the jungle. Her pals, the cannibals, diverted from carving people to carving ironwood, are still working furiously for the Yankee dollar.