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Archive for the ‘Sean Flynn’ Category

A Father’s Day Tribute to Errol from Bariebel

22 Jun

Here is a wonderful music video from Bariebel, aka preeminent EFB Author Tina Nyary. Thank you, Tina!

Btw, Tina toasted twice on Saturday to Errol’s 111th from Toronto (I think Toronto) with an 18-year-old Glennfiddich Malt Whiskey – once by her pool in the afternoon, and once in the evening!!

— Gentleman Tim

 

In Father’s Footsteps — May 27, 1961

27 May

Sean Flynn Chip Off Old Block

— Gentleman Tim

 

Errol’s Royal Geek

19 May

70 YEARS AGO TODAY – GHICA FINDS ERROL IRRESISTIBLE

New Orleans, May 18, 1950– Errol Flynn is irresistible to Rumanian Princess Irene Ghica
“because he keeps his mouth shut when I want quiet,” she said.

Forty-year-old Flynn
and the 19-year-old princess will probably marry in September – he for the third time.

He brought her to the United States from Bermuda so that he could finish a film based
on Rudyard Kipling’s “Kim.”

Flynn explained that the princess’ nickname, “Geek,” was the first syllable of Ghica.
She commented: “When I found out that a ‘geek’ is a person who, bites off chickens’ heads
at a carnival, I threw a pan at Errol.”

Flynn, who earns about £A89,286 a year, complained that he was going deeper into debt every day.

“There seems to be a lot of people I owe money to, he said. “You would think I had paid enough to one of the
ladies to whom I’ve been paying alimony for 10 years. Those payments are a terrible drain on a man’s income.”

He was referring to his first wife, Lili Damita. He recently asked the court for alimony relief, saying he was
paying £10,357 a year to support her and their nine year-old son, Sean.

Here are the Nearlyweds in November of 1949.

— Gentleman Tim

 

Sean Flynn Monument Update! David Rocco, Mail Bag!

04 May

David,
The replacement Sean Flynn Memorial Tree has been planted and the memorial monument has been relocated so that it now faces the entrance to the Trail of Honor.
Next step now is to obtain a memorial monument for Dana Stone and place it at a tree that is across from the Sean Flynn monument.  I am in negotiations with the Friends of Lasdon Park organization to reach an agreement on how we can honor Dana Stone.

David Rocco

Thanks so much, David!

— David DeWitt

 

April 29 — 1957 — — Errol Settles Down

30 Apr

Louella 0. Parsons in Hollywood

International News Service
Louella O. Parsons Motion Picture Editor

After six years abroad Errol and Mrs. Flynn (Patrice Wymore) return to Hollywood with baby Arnella.
He’s a real homebody now.

DASHING, happy-go-lucky, colorful Errol Flynn, who lost millions, is poorer today but happier than he’s ever been in his life. And he didn’t hesitate to say that Patrice Wymore (the present Mrs. Flynn) is responsible. Six months ago, Errol owed $900,000. Today, he has paid off $750,000 and sees his way clear to handing over the remainder by December. This is a changed Errol. No longer does that roving eye of his look at every pretty girl who enters a room. In the past, Errol was as wild, unpredictable and full of pranks as anyone I ever interviewed. He always talked with his tongue in cheek, and while I always liked him, I used to have the feeling that some of his nonsense was due to the fact that life was not happy. He asked me to have dinner with him and Patrice at La Rue. You can always depend upon Errol to say something different and to make an interview an occasion, and his first words to me were: “Well, what do you think of her?” pointing to the calm, gracious Patrice. A little embarrassed with such frankness, I countered with, “What do you think of her yourself?” “Well, she’s not my type, but 1 love her,” he laughed. “You know, she saved my life. I’d have run when the going was so tough, but, Pat, without a word of complaint, helped me straighten out my affairs, stuck by me and gave me encouragement. “I never thought I’d ever say I’d be lonely for any woman,” he continued, “but, do you know something? I can’t bear to be separated from her. She gives me a confidence I all but lost during those months of worry.”

The Flynns have been in Europe for six years. They left Hollywood in 1950, and Errol had considerable trouble with William Tell, the picture he was to make in Italy. He says he lost over $200,000 of his own money in it. Errol said, “To show you the kind of girl Pat is, she was expecting our bambina any hour when I got word that I had to be in New York on business. She said, ‘You go right ahead and I’ll wait until you return to have the baby.’ I got back Christmas Eve to find that she’d invited 30 people for Christmas Day egg nogs. On Christmas I rushed her to the hospital where the baby was born within a few hours. We just left all our guests at the party. “I never thought I’d want to settle down to family life,” Errol went on, “but you should see me now. You know how I never wanted domesticity. Whenever it threatened me I’d go away on my boat or take a picture assignment away from home. We now have the greatest family life you ever saw.

“Since I’ve been back in Hollywood,” he said, “we’ve had Pat’s parents from Kansas, her grandmother, and all the children with us My two little girls, Deirdre and Rory, by my marriage to Nora Haymes, spend every week end with us, and our daughter Arnella loves playing with them.” His fourteen-year-old son, Sean, by his marriage to Lili Damita, is the spittin’ image of Errol. Patrice told me Sean spent a little time with them in Europe. “He is so handsome and so intelligent,” she said. “He’s now in Florida with his mother.” A woman who can praise a previous wife’s child is all right for my money. Usually there is a feeling of resentment, but if Pat has any feeling of this sort she’s a great actress. Errol said, “At Universal-International they gave me some of rry ‘face’ back with a great part in Istanbul. I hope to come back and make another picture for them; it’s a nice studio. I’ll return in December.” “Didn’t you almost turn in at Warner Brothers studio by mistake?” I asked him. He started his career Warners with Captain Blood [the film which made him] one of the top stars in the country.

Errol is older now and wiser. He has taken off some of the weight which so shocked me when I first saw him after his return here. But he’s still and always will be the same charm boy. When domesticity threatened in the past, he’d be off to other shores.

— Gentleman Tim

 

Errol’ s Last (?) Will and Testament filed April 27, 1954

27 Apr

Flynn Will Omits Bev

NEW YORK (UPI)

— A fight brewed today over the estate of actor Errol Flynn, whose will was filed for probate here Wednesday. The will, dated April 27, 1954, left most of his estate to his widow, Mrs. Patrice Wymore Flynn, with specific bequests to his children and parents. In Hollywood, his former wife, Mrs. Nora Haymes, said Flynn had told her there was another will dated sometime in 1957 in which he left everything to his children and parents. She said she planned to consult an attorney to protect the interests of her two daughters by Flynn.

Melvin Belli, San Francisco attorney representing Beverly Aadland, Flynn’s 17-year-old companion for the past year, said he was amazed that no provision had been made for his client He said he knew Flynn wanted to provide for Beverly and Belli said he would do something about it. Flynn and his widow had been separated for some time while he travelled to Europe and the Caribbean with Beverly.

— Gentleman Tim

 

Raphael Millet’s New Article Five Ashore at Singapore Film, Sean Flynn!

13 Apr

A very detailed piece, great reading!


Thanks so much Raphael!

Raphaël Millet is a film director, producer and critic with a passion for early cinema. He has published two books, “Le Cinéma de Singapour” (2004) and “Singapore Cinema” (2006), as well as directed documentaries such as “Gaston Méliès and His Wandering Star Film Company” (2015), screened as part of the 2015 Singapore International Film Festival, and “Chaplin in Bali” (2017), which opened the Bali International Film Festival in 2017.

— David DeWitt

 

Top of the Morning to the Flynns’ Gaelic First Names: St. Patrick’s Day 2020

17 Mar

Errol

The popularity of the name Errol soared after Captain Blood!

A variation of Earl, Errol is a Scottish name that means nobleman and wanderer.

Sean

Rare in the U.S. when Errol named Sean.

Sean (written “Seán” or “Séan” in Irish) is a Hibernization of the English name “John” (‘God has favoured’ in Hebrew); that is, it’s a transliteration of “John” into a form which can be pronounced in Irish and written with the Irish alphabet, which nowadays is simply a version of the Roman alphabet.

Deirdre

Deirdre was the name borne by a legendary Irish princess who was betrothed to the king of Ulster, Conchobar. She eloped, however, to Scotland with her lover Naoise, who was then treacherously murdered by the king. Deirdre supposedly died of a broken heart. The name might be derived from the Old Irish Derdriu (young girl) or from the Celtic Diédrè (fear).

Rory

Off the chart rarity when Rory was born!

An anglicisation of the Irish Ruairí, Rory is a buoyant, spirited name for a redhead with Celtic roots. …Rory may also be a nickname for Aurora.

Arnella

Perhaps the most rare!

Not a Gaelic name, but being that St. Patrick was of Italian blood, Arnella fits right in as well as Patricio!

Arnella was first found in various parts of Southern Italy including early references in Sicily, and the city of Naples. The name eventually moved further north, and those members of the family that lived there adopted the northern tradition of ending their name in “i”, whereas those that stayed in the south kept the southern suffixes. The name Arnella means “sand” and was probably first given to someone who lived near a beach or sandy area.

— Gentleman Tim

 

Hamilton

05 Dec

A new movie about Sean?

“I want things to give my life gravitas, and that’s the movie about Sean Flynn.”

Errol takes Sean and the Tan Man to ELMO

“We met as teenagers in Palm Beach. One night when we were about 15 and both at boarding school, Errol Flynn showed up in New York and took us to dinner. To El Morocco, which wasn’t even a place to go to dinner, it was a nightclub. Sean and I showed up in our best Brooks Brothers blazers,”

www.townandcountrymag.com…

— Gentleman Tim

 

Sean’s “unWILLing” Will

08 Nov

“unWILLingly … If me so bad, medivac’acked immediately” and “If cool-aid, celestially unredeemable”.

Edited extracts from the new book,The Bite of the Lotus: An Intimate Memoir of the Vietnam War, by Sean’s friend and photojournalist colleague, Carl Robinson

I’d arrived in South Vietnam in early 1964 as an idealistic 20-year-old who grew up in the Belgian Congo and had spent most of my life as an expat. I’d become enchanted with South Vietnam as a visiting university student from Hong Kong and returned to a job in the US-run pacification program, or winning hearts and minds. Quitting in protest after the Tet ’68 Offensive, I drifted into journalism to stay on with the Mekong Delta maiden who’d captured my heart. I’d seen a lot and my initial idealism was a fast-receding memory.

I’d also met a lot of people. Foreigners and Vietnamese. Military, spooks and aid workers. And now a band of reporters and photographers looking for fame, if not fortune, covering a war that had already turned into a seemingly endless quagmire.

Over at the quieter end of the room, by a large open window, I saw someone about my age sitting quietly and alone in a high-backed rattan chair, observing the scene. Tall and handsome with a thin moustache, he was Sean Flynn, son of the actor Errol Flynn. I wandered over to introduce myself.

We found that we had a lot in common. We were both fluent French-speakers, life-long expatriates and comfortable drifting between different cultures, as well as being constantly curious and well read. Sean had spent time in Africa and wore an elephant hair bracelet.

By April 1969 it seemed like things were starting to unravel. I’d just returned from a memorable motorbike trip with Sean through Laos – in which we’d narrowly avoided the Communists and deepened our friendship in the process – when I rode my bike into a barbed wire barrier strung across a Saigon street.

The incident would mark the start of a string of departures and other mishaps in my circle of friends. Most shockingly, (photojournalist/friend) Tim Page was badly wounded by a booby-trapped US-made 105-mm artillery shell west of Saigon. The right side of his brain was blown away, and he was now at the 24th Evacuation Hospital at the huge US base of Long Binh, north-east of Saigon.

Sean heard the news in Vientiane and rushed back to Saigon. Sitting together in the rumble seat of the yellow Citroen convertible of David Sulzberger, son of New York Times columnist Clive, on our way out to Long Binh, Sean was quieter than usual. But when we got there, he purposefully made light of what happened, saying: “You’re crazy, Page, what’d you do that for?” Touchingly, Sean gave Tim a wooden statue from the Cave of One Thousand Buddhas, just upriver from Luang Prabang in Laos, which he’d visited after I left to come back to Saigon.

Clearly, something had happened to our old gang. Just Sean and I were left. He was clearly shaken, and several days later presented me with a handwritten note beginning with the word “unWILLingly”, and including instructions for if he was wounded or killed: “If me so bad, medivac’acked immediately” and “If cool-aid, celestially unredeemable”.

He also noted addresses and to whom I should send his belongings. Sadly, Sean said nothing about what to do if he just disappeared.

Perhaps thinking of our experience in Vietnam and Laos, Sean rented motorbikes for himself and Dana and, along with other journalists in four-wheeled vehicles, headed south-east of Phnom Penh down Route 1, across the Neak Luong ferry over the Mekong River, and then east into the Parrot’s Beak, where the Cambodian border pokes like an arrow into southern Vietnam.

But the Communists, unsure of what would happen next, quickly sealed off the border region and erected roadblocks to halt normal traffic. Just west of a roadblock only a dozen kilometres into Cambodia, correspondents saw a stopped sedan with its doors open. Only the previous day, two French photographers, including my friend Claude Arpin, had disappeared near here, probably a bit further down the road.

What happened next, on that early April day of 1970, is now the stuff of legend – and personal anguish. Eyewitnesses had seen my two friends arguing in a cafe, with Sean trying to talk a reluctant Dana into pushing further down the road. Finally, they hopped on their bikes and, with only a few words, rode past the other waiting journalists straight towards that roadblock.

They were never seen again. Missing, presumably captured.

As reports of their disappearance came into the AP office the next morning, I couldn’t help smiling as I recalled how often Sean and I had fantasized about slipping over to cover the elusive “other side”. It was the holy grail. We’d be welcomed with open arms, take pictures, do interviews and come out with the scoop of the Vietnam War. Sure, I thought, they’ll make it. Just give ’em a few days.

But as days turned to weeks with no news, I was filled with foreboding and despair. And guilt, too. What if I hadn’t been caught and expelled trying to sneak into Cambodia only three weeks before?

It’s certain I would’ve been there too on that fateful day on my own rented motorbike. Would I have backed Dana and refused to go any further? Or would I have followed Sean? I have lived with that torment ever since.

Sean had given me that handwritten will in case he was killed or wounded, but he’d said nothing about what to do if he just disappeared. I was stunned and felt helpless.

— Gentleman Tim