Archive for December, 2016

A Very Merry Christmas to EFB members

21 Dec

To all Errol Flynn Blog members, wishing you a Very Merry Christmas from Australia! Here’s my annual handmade Christmas Greeting Card creation.

My first time posting it on EFB, as this year I’ve included an ode to Errol … he being the Santa (from Escape Me Never) escaping the frame at stage left! Enjoy, I raise my glass!

Cheers, Philip

On the western fringe of the wheatbelt, outside of the regional centre of Northam. The Great Eastern Highway cuts a swath across the fields toward perth - only another 105 kms away, Northam, WA, Australia

— Philip


A Christmas Errol

21 Dec


Dear fellow Flynn fans,

still looking for the perfect christmas present?
Invaluable auctions off an item featuring our Hollywood hero. If you look carefully he lingers in the back of the picture in his typical Lord of Shanghai pose (…).
Get a great for a grand:…

Mingle bells,

— shangheinz


The Finest Ever Robin Hood

20 Dec


“The finest ever Robin Hood, Errol Flynn was a man who knew how to buckle a swash. No one has matched him in nearly eighty years of trying, and no one has even come close to filling a pair of tights as well as our Errol.”

— Gentleman Tim


The Palm Beach Story

19 Dec

Visiting with the Vietors


Last year I published a post entitled “A Stay at Palm Beach with the Jell-O Queen” about Errol & Lili’s visit/vacation at Southwood, the prominent mansion of Eleanore Emily Woodward Vietor.*

A Stay at Palm Beach, with the Jell-O Queen

In response to that post, I received correspondence from a descendent of the Vietors, who has very generously sent some clarifying and enhancing information, including in part the following news articles, the first of which reports (with a corrected date) on the party given for Errol & Lili in 1938. Look at that guest list! The Crockers (parents of Zaca owner Templeton Crocker), the Pillsburys (with all their dough), Howie Hughes, and E.F. Hutton (…), among many other deep pockets and Cafe Society-Era socialites.


Southwood also had a fascinating JFK connection:


See, also, for an account of the Robin Hood Parody film starring Errol, Lili, Paulette Goddard, et al.:



* Southwood was only a very short walk from Mar-a-Lago, the new Winter White House, designed by the very same architect, Marion Sims Wyeth. … Not that anyone who was anyone on Palm Beach in those days would deign to undertake such a horrendously plebeian trek without chauffeur and vetements formels.

— Gentleman Tim


A Distingushed Duo

19 Dec

Who is this distinguished duo with The Baron and Swoonatra??

– Alliterative rivals.

– Very well known, connected and influential in their day.

– One has a well known son.


— Gentleman Tim


Titchfield Hotel & Navy Island Memories!

17 Dec

Laura Barre writes us via the Mail Bag!

I was at the Titchfield in the early 60’s when Rex Rand bought it, and it was called “Jamaica Reef hotel”. The natives were all still talking about Erroll and how he won that island across from the hotel in a card game. The hotel was run down, but beautiful, and the breezes felt like soft, wet silk against your skin. I must have been one of the first people there after he bought it, because the parties had not yet started, and it wasn’t organized at all. I do recall getting really dressed for dinner in a chiffon gown, and thinking the surroundings were those of the most lush, tropical paradise I could imagine. I so want to return for nostalgia purposes. How lovely that some of it is still there.


Laura, thanks so much for writing! I love the Titchfield Hotel (Jamaica Reef) as it became known. And all of Error’s time there. My friend Dennis Mullen was able to get onto the restricted military base where the hotel stood and to see the remains of the 3 pools, part of the floor of the ballroom and the path through the lush greens that he was told everybody used. Do you have any photos of the hotel?

I’d like to put up your comments to me as a Mail Bag item on the blog if you don’t mind? It would be fascinating for the blog to read what you said …

Here are some of Dennis’s photos. Two are from the resort on Navy Island. That is Dennis in the photos.


David DeWitt/Admin/The Errol Flynn Blog
Sent from Myrtle Beach, SC, USA

Wish I had taken photos! I remember the paths well, as I was worried about tripping in heels. I remember going on a long path of steps to then where we dined, in a circle, surrounded by these tall trees, all seeming very overgrown. I was staying in a little cottage which only had a ceiling fan to cool off, and my hair continued to never really “dry”. There were night blooming bushes outside my door that were like perfume. Go ahead if you like and upload my comments. What’s going on with Navy Island now? I’m intending to go back up there. Rex had sent a car for me that picked me up in Kingston, and I’ll never forget those scary winding mountain roads, and going through Kingston with lots of people in the roads carrying on. A novel experience for a young woman. I ‘ll bet they are still telling stories about Erroll around there!


Thanks, Laura!


jamaican-blue-mountain-coffee-label-copy  img_1154





Photos show the late Dennis Mullen, Flynn aficionado and Travel Adventurer in the footsteps of Errol Flynn. Dennis walked in Errol’s footsteps both in Jamaica and Cuba. His design work seen above for Jamaican Blue Mountain Coffee was as lyrical as the winds of adventure itself. He visited Jamaica doing some promotional work for The Errol Flynn Marina and attended Pat Wymore’s 85th birthday party as a guest at her table. He was so charming he was able to enter the restricted military base not once but three times (to the amazement if Dale Weston, manager of the marina) to view and photograph the remains of The Titchfield Hotel pools and Navy Island. These are not his Navy Island photos. More will be forthcoming about Dennis Mullen.

— David DeWitt


Bend Them Like The Baron

16 Dec



— Gentleman Tim


Flynn, Kennedy & Miss Congo???

15 Dec

Was there a connection???

As Flynn in Florida research continues I quite unexpectedly came across this reported connection between Errol and one of Joe Kennedy’s early films. … leading one to wonder what happened to the rest of Errol’s reportedly “huge collection of silent films”? Any or all also at MoMA?……



— Gentleman Tim


Rory Flynn aboard Zaca in Monaco, 2014!

14 Dec


Thanks, Rory!

— David DeWitt



14 Dec


Depicted here: An Arno Wannabe, perhaps auditioning for a long-overdue Arno biopic.…


circa March 1939

Not fame, not fans, not his newest part are
nearly so much of a problem as one determined
Schnauser who nearly landed his master in jail.

■ When Mr. Errol Flynn adopted Arno
into his heart and home, he little knew
how much trouble he was borrowing!

One day his life was serene. He was
master of his own soul, captain of his own
ship, boss of his own household. There
were no strings on Mr. Flynn’s friendships,
his goings-and-comings, his general behavior.
Life, for him, was singularly free
of complications, He was the living,
breathing example of what people meant
when they spoke of a “free soul”.

Then Arno turned up and since then
life hasn’t been the same for Errol.

Errol may be the great Hollywood star,
the man who pays the income tax, the
guy whom the girls mob. But it’s Arno
who is the real boss of the Flynn menages.
He expects, and receives, a certain deference
from the servants, the milkman, the
bread man, the Fuller Brush man. If
anyone rings the doorbell, Arno is right
there to pass inspection on the visitor.
He may, and then again he may not, permit entrance.

A time or two Errol has been forced to
sneak important visitors through the side
door. Subterfuge galls Mr. Flynn, but he
is forced to admire Arno’s uncompromising
stand where his personal opinions are
concerned. After all, Errol himself does
his own thinking — and why deny Arno the
same right.

When Mr. Flynn first came to Hollywood his adventures
in the far-flung corners of the earth were given considerable
publicity. That venturesome quality is like the measles —
awfully easy to catch. With it goes a keen sense of justice —
of right and wrong. Of what’s fair play and what isn’t!

Arno is not the only one in the house who has determined ideas
about nearly everything!

Once, when Errol went on location,
Arno was sent on a visit to the home of Flynn’s closest friend.
A cocker-spaniel happened to be the lord of this green pasture.
Arno resented the indignity of sharing attention with a long-haired,
floppy-eared comrade, by going on a hunger strike.

He bayed at the moon and made faces at the sun, and
absolutely refused to have any truck with the ambulating,
friendly cocker. All day long Arno sat in injured solitude,
not even nosing the ground sirloin which was especially prepared
for him. (Errol is kinda choosy about his food, too).

Again and again Arno asked himself — “What have I done to deserve
this? I have been loyal. I haven’t had more than one fight a day for a
week. I haven’t chased the neighborhood cats. I have been most careful
to use the proper comfort station, but here I am banished from the sight
of the only person I care two hoots about! Is that fair?”

The hosts began to get a bit worried when Arno’s hunger strike extended
to two days. They opened the door to the wire enclosure, and made clucking
noises to coax him out. Silly creatures, Arno thought to himself, as if he
couldn’t break prison with his own brawn and brain if there had been a chance
of finding Errol. He wasn’t dependent on a door for an exit.

On the Dodge City set rehearsing with Flynn, Arno,
the gourmet, toys with his evening steak.

Arno, the sportsman, in
hot pursuit of goldfish.

Arno, the prodigal, begs
forgiveness at dinnertime

Arno might be a Houdini, for all the problem
that chains and ropes present to him. Not long ago,
when he was on vacation with Errol in Florida, they
stopped at a very snooty inn. The haughty clerk gave
Arno the fish-eye and announced that no dogs were allowed
in the rooms. It was finally agreed that Arno would be
tied up in the basement.

Arno, however, had other ideas. By what legerdemain he
slipped the chain from his collar, and found his way,
as true as a string, to his master’s room is still a mystery
for Sherlock Holmes. Exactly five times he was returned to his
own quarters, and securely fastened. He was acquiescent and placid
while the humans scolded. But the moment he was left alone, off would
come the rope, and Arno would trot up the six flights and scratch at
Errol’s door for admission.

The management finally admitted defeat. The Governor of Illinois
didn’t have his dog in his suite; a duke from England, a minor
King from Europe, and an important ambassador did not have their
dogs in their suites. But Arno, the problem child, took matters
into his own paws, cut red tape with his teeth and spent what was
left of the night in his accustomed sleeping place — at the foot of Errol’s bed.

With Arno for an example, it’s no wonder that Mr. Flynn’s quality
of perserverance is becoming a matter of comment. (Note how long
and devotedly he worked at archery to become expert for his part in Robin Hood.)

As a general rule, Arno is snobbish and haughty with other canines.
They are so much dust beneath his feet, and recently that attitude and
Anger rose in Arno’s breast. He would show these people
how a gentleman and a scholar can solve a problem.

That night he set to work with fury in his heart. The locked
door was a challenge. For hours on end, he dug deep beneath
the wall. And long before the birds began their daily vocal
lesson, Arno had a beautiful escape tunnel completed. There
it was for all to see. And when his hostess came to look at him
and to greet him cheerily, he was sitting belligerently in the
exact center of the pen, with his eyes on the tunnel, as if to
say— “I m staying here of my own free will. If I had wanted
leaving, I could have done a little digging long before this.”

Neither Errol nor Arno hold with conventional restrictions
or rules. One of these days Errol will dump his Fame in the
waste-basket, pick himself up and go off to places unknown,
to follow his fancy and his inclinations. To Errol even a
great career isn’t worth the spiritual imprisonment it imposes.
That will suit Arno right down to the ground. He doesn’t much favor routine either.

— Gentleman Tim