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It's not every day that Errol Flynn sails into your life, but in 1930 he spent a month in Rockhampton

It's June 1930 and Errol Flynn — still five years before swashbuckling movie fame beckons — makes a spectacular entrance to the port of Rockhampton on his aging-but-handsome yacht, Sirocco.

Key points:

• It was a six-week voyage from Sydney to New Guinea that would end up lasting six months
• Swimming, drinking, fishing, fighting, sailing, gambling and romancing were part of their daily routine

Flynn fell into bad company in Rockhampton and later described the city as having a pub on every corner

Captain Flynn and his young crew of three adventurers were on an epic voyage from Sydney to New Guinea and for the next four weeks they set about leaving a lasting impression on the bustling regional city.

According to Flynn's biographer Thomas McNulty, swimming, drinking, fishing, fighting, sailing, gambling and romancing girls were part of their daily routine as they immersed themselves in the lively social life of a city that was shaking off its "sin, sweat and sorrow" reputation it gained during the late 1800s goldrush era.

It was the carefree lifestyle they embraced during stops at towns and cities along the New South Wales and Queensland coastline following their departure from Sydney in March on a six-week voyage that would end up lasting six months.

A voyage of adventure 

Their conspicuous arrival in Rockhampton on June 17 was recorded by The Morning Bulletin newspaper after a curious reporter boarded Sirocco where it was moored in the Fitzroy River.

The Bulletin introduced the visitors in fine style the next day:

THE SIROCCO CALLS IN. ONE-TIME CRACK YACHT. FOUR ADVENTURERS OFF TO NEW GUINEA Long, narrow-waisted, black-hulled, with towering stick showing above the wharf decking, but bearing little signs of the buffeting she has received on her voyage, the Sirocco, late of Royal Sydney Yacht Club, now bound for New Guinea. Fifty years old, but as staunch as the day she slipped into the water for the first time at the Circular Quay slips, the Sirocco will know a different atmosphere now from the one she has been accustomed to so long. Her youthful crew know where they are going. First there is Captain Errol Flynn, late Cambridge undergrad, now planter on a lonely island 40 miles from mysterious Madang, the island of the "White Kanakas". Mr T. Adams, another young Englishman, is the navigator. Close clipped moustache, accent, and physique brand him unmistakably the product of university. Mr C. Burt, another member of the crew, is also an Englishman and Australia is represented by Mr Rex Long-Innes, son of Judge Long-Innes, who is going forth with the others to seek his fortune in the South Seas.

What sparked the voyage

Hobart-raised Flynn certainly impressed the reporter but had embellished his background somewhat with his Cambridge undergrad boast having only attended English schools for a few years in his early teens.

Most of the other details were based on fact as the next chapter in his Sirocco adventures unfolded.

He had come across the Sirocco in about 1929 while doing some modelling work in Sydney at Neutral Bay.

The weather-beaten old yacht sparked his passion for sailing and so was born the audacious plan to sail it to New Guinea despite him and his friends having little sea-going experience.

Flynn scraped together $4,000 for the Sirocco and in March 1930 Flynn and friends Rex Long-Innes, H. F. Trelawney Adams and Charlie Burt set sail.

After visiting Coffs Harbour, Ballina, Brisbane, Bundaberg it was Rockhampton’s turn for the crew to indulge themselves in the local fare.

They had timed it nicely as it was the week of the city’s annual carnival and there was plenty of entertainment and events to enjoy.

Boxing tournaments, dances, concerts, horseracing, talkie movies, motor car races and football matches were just some of the daily offerings listed in the local paper.

Broads, bruises and booze-ups 

In a letter to his father dated July 27, Flynn described having the girls from the JC Williamson chorus on board the Sirocco for a day trip on the river.

The line of attractive young ladies adorned the full length of the deck making quite a sight for spectators as they cruised the Fitzroy. 

However, he struggled to provide a detailed description of Rockhampton due to his few sober moments indicating frequent bouts of heavy drinking.

He did recall, however, that there was a hotel on every corner, giving further insight into how he spent much of his time there.

During these drinking sessions, he met two likeable rogues, both newspaper journalists, and ended up spending considerable time in their witty company.

He blamed one of them, a reporter named Walker, for arranging a fight with an established boxer, Bud Riley, from Jimmy Sharman’s Troupe (which was in the city for the carnival).

Walker introduced Flynn to Jimmy Sharman who told him to be outside Sharman’s boxing tent at 3:00pm the next day to accept Riley’s challenge to a three-round fight.

Flynn was very drunk at the time and had overestimated his ability against a seasoned opponent, who featured in several Bulletin boxing stories during Flynn’s visit.

Flynn copped a hiding from Riley but still managed to last the distance and collected his 5 pounds purse from the disgruntled Sharman.

Flynn was so battered from the fight he didn’t eat for three days. 

There were also legendary games of poker.

In Flynn's 1937 book Beam Ends, where he fictionalised the Sirocco voyage, he included a Rockhampton tale where he escaped from police after being arrested with a group of gamblers in the back room of a Greek restaurant.

There is no mention of such an incident in local papers and, considering the crew's high public profile, the getaway story was at best an exaggeration.  

They did manage to win some card games to boost their income earned from selling fish and taking locals for pleasure cruises.

A fond farewell to the Sirocco

On July 13 it was time for the crew to move on, and such was their impression on the community the yacht’s departure earned another newspaper report:

The yacht Sirocco, bound for New Guinea and adventure, left Rockhampton yesterday morning, with Townsville next port of call. During their month's stay in Rockhampton the crew formed many friendships and there was a fair crowd at the old town wharves yesterday morning to wish them a successful trip. A recruit joined the party at Rockhampton in Mr A. Annon, a New Zealander, who played football with North Rockhampton Club early in the season.

Flynn and crew continued on their merry stopping at Townsville and other centres before making it to New Guinea.

Movie breakthrough

In 1933, Flynn got his big movie break with the role of Fletcher Christian in Charles Chauvel’s In the Wake of the Bounty.

By 1935 he was starring in the major Warner Bros. movie Captain Blood opposite co-star Olivia de Havilland.

A legendary career was underway just a few years after a trip of a lifetime along the Queensland coast.

This story is based on material from The Morning Bulletin archives, Sue Smith's 150 Years of News, Thomas McNulty’s Errol Flynn: The Life and Career, Flynn’s letters to his father and his book Beams Ends.

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On Flynn's Boats

Hi, To all the Errol Flynn fans, for My first story to introduce myself, I will tell you why and how I became more interested in Errol Flynn as the years went on……. Growing up in the late 40s and 50s, some where there was always a Errol Flynn movie being shown at the movies or on TV when it first arrived, and after seeing a Flynn movie, you could always somehow remember his face but not necessary the name of the movie, Flynn's  looks seem to leave a permanent picture on the brain….And then when his movies became less frequent and other things entered your life, (girls, cars,etc.) well, you know! I remember at home one morning and my mother was reading the newspaper, when she slowly put the newspaper down, went into the other room, sat down and said to my father, “Errol Flynn has just died”, as if it was a member of the family….

They were very E.F. fans especially my mother (and that's another story)…… The years rolled on….When I was in my early twenties, I had the opportunity to go onboard Errol's schooner “Sirocco” I could not believe it, Me on Errol Flynn's boat, amazing… to walk the deck and anywhere I liked, all through the cabins, then it hits you, you start to remember, the movies of Flynn, and for a moment you start think you are Errol Flynn, Oh.! What an extraordinary feeling…..

Some years later, when I was in the south of France, and was talking to some people from my hotel and they knew that I was from Australia, one said ' your movie friend Errol Flynn's boat is down there, I said ” Oh.! Sirocco”… No, No, the other boat “Zaca”, I could not believe it, I had thought Zaca had sunk years ago, I could not get down to the marina quick enough, and there she was, just sitting there, stripped of everything, what a wreck!

I obtained permission to go onboard, well, what can one say, in my lifetime to be on both of Errol Flynn's Yachts, I walked around the deck for about an hour, just thinking and staring… could not go below all boarded up! At that not knowing much about Zaca and Flynn's private life away from his movie  making; it was some years later when Errol's movies became available on DVD that I mention to my wife about being on Flynn's boats, and might do some research on Zaca, and to do an Oil painting of her, I have been an artist for a number of years amongst other adventurous titles. Looking through dozens of Errol Flynn Web sites have realised how popular Errol is today. Finished the painting of Zaca as she was in 1946 (the painting is for sale to anyone interested). Have started on painting “Sirocco”. Then will do a portrait of Errol…..what happened to John Decker's painting of  Flynn?

Regards to all, Trevor

— Trevor Hill

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March 12, 2010 at 8:02 pm

Welcome, Trevor, and wonderful stories. The Decker portrait (not very good at all, in my opinion) is with Patrice in Jamaica, and was damaged and almost lost in a storm a number of years ago. Robert

March 13, 2010 at 12:09 am

Welcome Trevor! As Robert mentioned, the Decker painting is with Patrice. Patti

March 13, 2010 at 12:36 am

And she can have it!

March 13, 2010 at 1:16 am

Hi Trevor and welcome to our unique Errol Flynn Blog! Quite a story having been on both of Errol's boats, how lucky can you get! Where was it when you where on the Sirocco and what year? You are saying you want to make some research into the Zaca, take a look under the tab “Ships and the sea” at the right of this website. You may see what is missing there and bring us new information about the Zaca. I hope you don't mind me saying that the Sirocco was not a schooner she was a Classic Wooden Ketch a one mast (original) a fishing boat built 1929. The schooner was the Zaca! We sincerely are looking forward to hear more interesting stories about Errol from you. Fair winds and good weather to you!

March 13, 2010 at 1:21 am

Hi Robert; Why don't you paint Errol? You painted Jimmy Stewart superbly! I buy Errol's as long it does not cost a million! Nobody could paint Errol better than you Robert! That is a fact!

March 13, 2010 at 1:27 am

I am quite flattered, Tina. Someday, time permitting, I just may create a piece.

March 13, 2010 at 1:38 am

I sincerely hope you take the time before I visit Errol! After all – I then have the original – hopefully on a nice soft cloud!

March 13, 2010 at 1:39 am

March 13, 2010 at 1:41 am

March 13, 2010 at 7:44 pm

I wouldn't bet on that soft cloud; more than likely it would be a warm rock–very warm.

March 13, 2010 at 9:37 pm

Hi Robert; So you think he is smoldering on very warm rocks? I think with is charisma he charmed his way right to heavenly white soft clouds! But if not a very warm rock would be fine too! I am sure he would find a way to make this special rock no Hell at all! Champagne would cool it! Cheers!

March 13, 2010 at 9:45 pm

Robert these two replies of mine saying “I agree” are in reply to your comment “And she can have it!” , they just would not go to the right place. I don't know why – I pressed the reply button on your comment, but they had a mind of their own.

March 15, 2010 at 3:57 am

Hi Trevor, nice stories. Lucky you to be on both Sirocco and Zaca! I am the same vintage as you when I was first introduced to Errol–through movies on TV. I was in sixth grade when he died and had a broken heart because it was Robin Hood and Geoffrey Thorpe who died! At that time I had no idea he was only four years older than my own dad and had a daughter older than I. Later, I wasn't interested in his life, but I still loved watching his movies. Now I am fascinated about his life from start to finish and reading every book and stories told.

March 17, 2010 at 9:55 am

Hi, Tina thanks for the E.mail and thank You for your comment Re. E.F. site .started the drawing for Flynn's portrait, painting soon, may not get around to answer all comments , not feeling well. Yours Trevor

March 17, 2010 at 10:07 am

Good'Day , Kathleen, thank You for your nice comment,yes you are right ,most people these days are more fascinated about Errol then in the early days, Kindest Regards Trevor.

March 17, 2010 at 2:23 pm

Trevor; Thanks for contributing that fascinating personal story of yours. I am so glad that you are here at this blog, and I thank David for somehow finding these very professional writers and introducing them to us. Best Wishes Ralph

September 19, 2012 at 5:16 pm

I am trying to find out the name of Errol’s boat that sunk off of Anacapa Island in the Channel Island chain off of the California Coast. Thank you, Kym

September 20, 2012 at 4:26 pm

Kym, could you provide some more details, please? Where did you read about the boat and when did it sink?

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In search of Errol Flynn's Jamaica

I t is a blazing Jamaican afternoon, the sun bouncing off the pristine turquoise Caribbean sea, and I am looking for Errol Flynn. The man himself has been dead for 60 years, but here in Jamaica he is not forgotten. The hard-drinking, hell-raising, skirt-chasing Hollywood heartthrob first came to the island in 1942 after the yacht he was sailing was caught up in a storm. Flynn docked his boat into Kingston before hopping on the back of a motorcycle and reaching Port Antonio. He fell in love with the place, famously declaring it "more beautiful than any woman I have ever known". Coming from Flynn this was high praise indeed, and that is why I have come to Jamaica – to follow in his footsteps and rediscover the Jamaica that was once the playground of the rich and the glamorous.

I begin my trip in Ocho Rios, a two-hour drive from Montego Bay on the north coast of Jamaica. It was here, at hotels such as Jamaica Inn and Round Hill, that Hollywood aristocracy partied with British nobility. Jamaica Inn first opened in 1950, and Marilyn Monroe and Arthur Miller stayed here for their honeymoon – a photograph of the couple hangs in the restaurant – while Winston Churchill came to unwind and paint.

Over at Round Hill, an exclusive series of villas and rooms scattered over 110 acres, the likes of Grace Kelly and Claudette Colbert came for seclusion and sunshine. More recently Paul McCartney, Julia Roberts and Tom Cruise have all stayed at Round Hill. Errol Flynn also stayed briefly in Ocho Rios – his friend Noël Coward owned one of the villas at Round Hill – but the actor's home was on a small island off the coast of Port Antonio, and that's where I am heading next.

Navy Island is a sliver of land which, legend has it, Errol Flynn won in a game of poker. Flynn lived with his wife Patrice Wymore on a boat moored off the coast and built a house on the island where he would "entertain" his other lady friends. Now Navy Island is deserted and not easily reached. "Navy Island covers about 65 acres and there are two beaches, but there is nothing there except the wreckage from the past," says Dale Weston, manager of the Errol Flynn marina. "The wreckage from the past is exactly what I am looking for," I tell him. He looks at me and shakes his head. "So you want to go to Navy Island, huh?" he says. "Well all right, but let me grab my machete." "Why do you need a machete?" I ask. "You'll see," he replies.

A short ride in a motorised dinghy later and we wash up on the island. It is just me, Dale and his assistant, Flour. Dale hands Flour his machete and Flour begins hacking a path through the wildly growing weeds blocking our path. I gingerly make my way through the undergrowth, almond, banana and lime trees blocking the sky. Eventually we reach the ruins of an old building with ornate writing that reads: "Navy Island Restaurant and Bounty Bar". "This is probably part of the reception area for the cottages and hotels that were on the island back in the 50s," says Dale.

We carry on, slashing a path through bushes and branches until we come upon the dilapidated shell of a house. "We think this was probably Flynn's home," said Dale. The floor is a carpet of weeds, a broken fan hangs from the roof, and shafts of lights fall on to the faded walls. "This would have been where he invited his ladies," says Dale wiping his brow. I look around. There isn't much to see on Navy Island – a few rotting shells of buildings, ransacked cottages – but it is truly thrilling. It feels like I am walking among ghosts, undisturbed for decades, from a thousand nights of debauchery. The plan is to develop Navy Island, to renovate it and exploit its land. It makes sense, but it also makes me sad – it's reassuring there are places so close and yet untouched.

I have been promised a tour of Port Antonio by Bentley – and that is, in a way, true. Bentley is a driver who works at Geejam Hotel, where I am staying and, having spent his life in the town, he is an ideal guide to show me around. We begin downtown, walking through the market where goats' heads sit forlornly waiting to be turned into soup and sleeping dogs lie on benches next to their sleeping owners. "This here street used to be called Rum Lane," says Bentley. "It's called Williams Street now, but it was a lively spot back then – lots of bars all down the street. Mr Flynn would drink here – I remember seeing him as a young boy." Bentley points to a nondescript building. "Mr Flynn liked to visit that place." "Was it a bar?" I ask. "No, it was a whorehouse," he replies.

For all of his reminiscing there is little in modern-day downtown Port Antonio that evokes the old-time glamour I am searching for. The Titchfield Hotel, which Flynn had bought, was once one of the grandest hotels in Jamaica, boasting 400 rooms and 600ft of piazza. Among the stars Flynn hosted there were Tony Curtis and Katharine Hepburn, Abbott and Costello, and Peter O'Toole.

When we reach the site of the Titchfield all I can see is an army training barracks. "The hotel burned down in the 60s – the annexe is all that's left, and it's being used by the military now," says Bentley. We carry on driving, past colourful food shacks and huge mansions that offer a reminder of Jamaica's colonial past.

It wasn't just Errol Flynn who made Jamaica his home; Noël Coward and Ian Fleming also settled on the island. Coward bought a villa at Round Hill and later his own home, Firefly, on land which originally belonged to the pirate Henry Morgan. Ian Fleming lived on the estate he named Goldeneye, in the tiny town of Oracabessa, now owned by former music mogul Chris Blackwell, whose Island Outpost manages many of the island's premier hotels. I meet Blackwell on James Bond Beach, just by Goldeneye, where he is eating with friends while keeping an eye on his iPad and numerous phones. The 73-year-old Blackwell is Jamaican aristocracy: his mother had an affair with Ian Fleming, and Blackwell himself was a friend of Errol Flynn.

"I remember him well – he punched me once for stealing his girlfriend," he recalls. "I was still only in my teens. It was very glamorous mainly because of Errol and Ian Fleming and Noël Coward. It was just incredible back then – I couldn't even begin to tell you what it was like." "If I want a taste of that life, what do I need to do?" I ask him. "You have to visit Firefly," he says.

I leave Blackwell and drive along the bending roads to Firefly. The former home of Noël Coward has been turned into a museum, and visiting is like stepping back in time. There are faded photographs of guests who visited Coward – a luminous Elizabeth Taylor, an elderly Charlie Chaplin, Marlene Dietrich and Sophia Loren. Coward's piano still stands, his record player with assorted albums, his typewriter with paper still inside and towels hanging in the bath. It is almost as if Coward has just dashed out and will be returning at any moment. Firefly overlooks the sea, the Blue Mountains in the distance. A bronze statue of Coward, sitting on a bench, gazes out towards the coast. I look out into the darkening sky, trying to take in the spectacular view, and see a rainbow.

Coward and Flynn couldn't have been more different – the English homosexual and the Tasmanian womaniser – but they were close friends. An entry in Coward's diary for Tuesday 27 March 1951 reads: "Dined with Errol Flynn and his wife Pat. Drinks on his yacht, which is beautiful, then barbecue dinner on his island – palm trees – lit by torches. Both of them extremely nice; a really lovely evening." Pat was Patrice Wymore, the third wife and widow of Errol Flynn. She is now 83 and, like Noël Coward, I have a dinner date with her.

In the restaurant of the Geejam Hotel, Patrice lights a cigarette, takes a drag and recalls her time with Flynn. "He loved it here because it was the only place where we would not be disturbed by the press," she says.

After Flynn died Patrice ran a boutique at Frenchman's Cove during the 60s. The cove is often listed among the best beaches in the world, and back then stars such as Liz Taylor and Richard Burton would fly in by helicopter before partying on the beach. "It was wonderful," she says. "I remember rafting on the Rio Grande: we would go early in the morning – a bar on one raft, food on another and musicians playing on a third – and we would spend the whole day rafting down the river. Have you done that yet?"

It is my last day in Jamaica and I am standing on the banks of the Rio Grande, a luminous blue ribbon that was once used to transport bananas. Errol Flynn popularised the idea of using thin bamboo rafts to silently glide along the river. Among those Flynn went rafting with was Truman Capote, who had a huge crush on the actor and once grabbed Flynn's crotch with both hands while Flynn was driving the pair to Kingston.

I clamber on, and with a gentle push my designated rafter nudges us out on to the river. It is hypnotically serene – out in the great wide open, no sounds except the gentle scrape of the wooden oar on the pebbled waterbed, the occasional cry of a bird, the wind rustling through the banana trees. The sun is intense, and as the raft glides under towering bamboo arches, past fern-shrouded groves and over rippling shoals my rafter points out a narrow passageway of moss-covered stone. "Mr Flynn named this Lovers' Lane," he says. "He used to take his lady friends here in the moonlight."

We squeeze through Lovers' Lane and stop for lunch at Belinda's Riverside Shack. Belinda cooks food for rafting travellers on a wood-fired grill using local ingredients that she carries on her head during the long walk from her home to her shack.

"I've prepared grilled parrot fish, roasted breadfruit dumplings and callaloo," she tells me. It is delicious – richly spiced and exotically textured. I finish the food and say goodbye to Belinda, heading back to the raft, which makes its way to its final destination, Rafter's Rest.

The rafting trip is a wonderful end to my journey back in time to Jamaica's glory days. Errol Flynn, Noël Coward and Ian Fleming are all long gone, but the Jamaica they loved has not entirely disappeared. These days it may be more famous for guns and gangsters than glamour, but that old, elegant and beautiful Jamaica still stands, its rich and fabled past sparkling like the shining turquoise waters of the Caribbean sea.

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Rossana Rory and Errol Flynn in The Big Boodle . Promotional still.

60 Years Ago, Errol Flynn’s Wicked Ways Ended in Vancouver

• Story: Jesse Donaldson

From the outside, the apartment building at 1310 Burnaby Street is unremarkable—a quaint, two-storey walkup nestled amongst a half-dozen other such buildings, in a quiet section of the West End, just a few blocks from English Bay.

But 60 years ago this month, in the bedroom of Apartment 201, a macabre piece of Vancouver history was made. It was October 14, 1959, and Hollywood star Errol Flynn was having a heart attack. It was his third, and he wouldn’t survive it.

In the days before the incident, there were numerous indications that the actor was on his last legs; notorious for his heavy drinking, hard living, and insatiable sexual appetite, Flynn already looked far older than his 50 years. In addition to cirrhosis, he was dealing with recurrent malaria, an intestinal infection, and chronic back pain (which, for a time, he had used heroin to combat), and had already suffered two previous heart attacks. In fact, just one month earlier, his doctor had conducted an ECG and had cautioned Flynn to scale back his lifestyle.

But Flynn needed money.

Errol Flynn in a colour publicity still for The Sea Hawk.

Despite his brief stay in the city, Flynn had already caused quite a stir when he arrived at the airport with his 17-year-old lover, Beverly Aadland; when asked by a female Vancouver Sun journalist why he preferred the company of such young women, Flynn’s reply was, the paper noted, “brief, succinct, direct, detailed, and completely unsuited for a family journal” (it was later reported to have been “because they f— so good”).

At approximately 3:45 p.m., the party arrived at 1310 Burnaby Street—the home of Dr. Grant Gould. Gould, a friend of Caldough’s (and uncle of Canadian piano prodigy Glenn Gould), had never met Flynn before, but he nonetheless administered a shot that greatly lifted the actor’s spirits. Flynn then went on to regale Gould and his guests (which included Art Cameron, manager of the nearby Sylvia Hotel) with stories of his life in Hollywood, before retiring to Gould’s bedroom to lie down.

Errol Flynn in Vancouver, date unknown. Image courtesy of Vancouver Public Library.

Fifteen minutes later, when Aadland went to check on him, she found he had stopped breathing.

She burst into the living room shouting: “Something is terribly wrong with Errol,” witnesses reported . “He’s turned black.”

Aadland and Gould attempted to revive Flynn—first with amyl nitrite, then with a shot of adrenaline directly to the heart, according to the next day’s report in the Vancouver Sun . Immediately thereafter, Aadland descended into hysterics, smashing her head against the railing of Gould’s balcony before being restrained by the other guests, who feared she might throw herself over the edge. Despite 90 minutes of lifesaving efforts by fire and emergency crews, Flynn never regained consciousness and was shortly thereafter pronounced dead.

From there, if coroner Glen McDonald’s account is to be believed, the story became more macabre still.

Errol Flynn’s autopsy photo, taken October 14, 1959.

“I was about to leave [the] office when the telephone rang,” McDonald wrote in his autobiography, How Come I’m Dead? “I was looking forward to a gin and tonic.”

News of Flynn’s passing travelled fast, and the coroner’s office was soon besieged with calls from Vancouverites clamouring to view his body. The first to see it were McDonald and chief pathologist Tom Harmon, who were tasked with doing an initial examination before the body was sent to Los Angeles. Their findings were largely consistent with the L.A. coroner’s report—the cause of death having been a heart attack—but, during the final moments of examination, McDonald and Harmon discovered something else: several large venereal warts on the end of Flynn’s penis.

“Tom seemed fascinated,” McDonald wrote, saying, “‘Look, I’m going to be lecturing at the Institute of Pathology, and I just thought it might be of interest if I could remove these things and fix them in formaldehyde and use them as a visual aid.’”

“No way!” McDonald replied. “We’re not going to do that. I don’t want anything done that isn’t relevant to the case because we’re really in the limelight tonight. We’re on the hot seat. How can we send Mr. Flynn back to his wife with part of his bloody endowment missing?”

However, a few moments later, when McDonald returned to the observation room, he discovered something was missing.

“The first thing I noticed was that the VD warts had gone—vanished from the end of Mr. Flynn’s penis,” McDonald continued. “Then I spotted a jar of formaldehyde on a shelf that looked suspiciously like it might contain VD warts.”

According to McDonald, the Scotch tape was never mentioned.

Hollywood C.C. at Brockton Point. Group portrait showing Errol Flynn (seated in front row far left). Photo courtesy of the City of Vancouver Archives Port P1494.2.

“I haven’t accepted his death yet,” Aadland told the Sun two days later. “I haven’t gone beyond today. I promised him if anything happened I would go ahead in the Flynn tradition—live for today and have a wonderful time doing it.”

And, according to Aadland, when it came to his own death, Flynn had always treated the matter with his own particular brand of dark humour.

“He always said: ‘If anybody comes to my funeral, I’ll cut them out of my will.’”

Read more history stories  here . 

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The Tragic Death Of Errol Flynn

Legendary screen actor Errol Flynn died as he lived: with a drink in his hand and braggadocious swagger in his voice. Just days before his body gave out, the swashbuckler was bragging to onlookers about his sexual escapades, which included making no apologies for his alleged relationship with an underage girl.

Beneath the surface, however, the actor was a shell of what he had once been. His best years behind him, Flynn was ill and broke, so much so that he had the misfortune of dying while on a trip to sell one of his beloved possessions to raise money. What's more, an autopsy would reveal that his lifetime of partying, drinking, and possibly even heroin use, had claimed the life of the actor ( Robin Hood , Captain Blood, They Died with Their Boots On ) at the relatively young age of 50.

Nevertheless, the shameless self-promoter kept up the act until the end, only revealing after his death, via his posthumously released autobiography (titled My Wicked, Wicked Ways ), that he suspected that he would be remembered as much for being a brand as for being a bankable actor.

Flynn died during a trip to raise money to make ends meet

By 1946, Flynn was sufficiently loaded that he was able to buy a yacht, the 118-foot Zaca . That he would purchase such a boat was fitting for his brand: he claimed that his mother's side of the family were "seafaring folk," and even claimed, without evidence, to be descended from HMS Bounty mutineers , according to his autobiography. And of course, on screen he portrayed pirates and sailors, and he himself was known to love boats and the sea. It was, for all intents and purposes, a match made in heaven.

By 1959, however, Flynn's financial situation had soured. As National Post reported, his film career had stalled, with one particular ill-fated movie turning out to be a "catastrophic loss." Further, he was behind in alimony payments from his failed marriages, and the IRS was breathing down his neck.

It was this looming penury that forced Flynn to book a flight to Vancouver, British Columbia, with a view towards selling his beloved yacht to buyer Georgie Caldough.

Flynn kept up his act until the very end

When he arrived in Vancouver, Flynn was in no hurry to let the fact that he was broke and sick distract from his public image. The actor was great at many things, and chief among them were self-promotion and a steadfast refusal to apologize for who he was. Those two things became apparent as soon as he stepped off the plane in Canada.

One thing that was on the minds of the Canadian press that day was his alleged relationship with Beverly Aadland, who came to Vancouver with him and who hadn't yet celebrated her 18th birthday. Aadland wasn't the first underage girl to allegedly warm Flynn's bed, and when a reporter asked him why he seemed to frequently be in the presence of teenage girls, his response (per National Post ) was crude, as well as unapologetic.

In the hours leading up to his death, Flynn continued to promote himself as a wealthy lothario. "[With] a drink in his hand and in his signature high-brow accent, [Flynn] was regaling Vancouver society with tales of globetrotting swashbuckle," wrote the National Post . Flynn, for his part, would later reveal, through his posthumously-published autobiography My Wicked, Wicked Ways that he realized he had become more of a symbol than a man: "I had by now made about forty five pictures, but what had I become? I knew all too well: A phallic symbol. All around the world I was, as a name and personality, equated with sex," he wrote.

Decades of unhealthy living caught up to him at the age of 50

By the time he'd arrived in Vancouver, there was no escaping the fact that Flynn was a shell of what he had once been. Onlookers noticed his bedraggled appearance, which stood in sharp contrast to the dashing, handsome image that had made him a star decades earlier. The list of maladies bedeviling the actor was lengthy, according to Montecristo Magazine . A lifetime of heavy drinking had left him with cirrhosis of the liver. He also frequently battled malaria, had suffered two heart attacks, and had chronic back pain which he purportedly treated with heroin.

On the afternoon of October 14, 1959, Flynn and Aadland were on their way back to the airport when he began complaining of pain — pain that would ultimately be the precursor to his third and final heart attack . He was soon driven to the home of Dr. Grant Gould. Some time later, Flynn asked to be left alone, and soon afterwards, Aadland found him unresponsive. He was pronounced dead later that evening.

An autopsy (posted at Scribd.com ) would reveal that he died of myocardial infarction due to coronary thrombosis and coronary atherosclerosis, while fatty degeneration of liver and portal cirrhosis of the liver were listed as significant enough to be considered contributing factors in his death.

Vancouver coroner Glen McDonald would later write, "It seemed, I thought at the time, an ignominious end for a famous movie star. But that's life. That's death."

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Jamaica’s Errol Flynn marina

Quiet charm, breathtaking vistas.

The only megayacht marina in Jamaica is in the most spectacularly verdant town in all Jamaica, Port Antonio. The Errol Flynn Marina occupies space in a protected harbour, in a place of quiet charm and breathtaking vistas.

The marina has 32 slips, five megayacht berths and a cruise pier. Maximum length is 180 m. / 600 ft.; draft is 30ft. As regards beam, megayachts are not placed in an open slip. Instead, they are placed on the face dock or the cruise pier. Beam is therefore not an issue.

Services and amenities available at the Port Antonio facility include:

• 110/220/450 volts – 30, 50, 100 amp single and 3-phase electrical service
• fixed concrete dockage for vessels alongside and med moored
• turning basin for yachts up to 600 ft.
• 7m depth at face dock
• international port of entry (with Ministry of Health, Customs and Immigration)
• 24-hr surveillance and security
• beach and swimming pool
• sanitary pump-out
• cruise ship terminal for boutique vessels

Showers, restrooms and laundry facilities are also available.

The Boatyard

The Port Authority of Jamaica’s PAJ Marina Development Company Limited (PAJ MDC) provides boatyard services, especially to the luxury yacht market. The PAJ MDC manages the Errol Flynn Marina boatyard. The boatyard is near to the marina and adjacent to the Boundbrook Wharves. The site can accommodate repairs and storage of up to 50 boats. Services provided include repairs, haul out and fueling of yachts.

The boatyard site has 3.46 acres of paved property and 5,666 sq. ft of buildings. []

My name here

It is a long established fact that a reader will be distracted by the readable content of a page when lookin

John G. Alden SIROCCO

Sail Number: 55

Type: Ketch

Ex; 1929 Karenita; 1930 Aviner; 1933 Simoon; 1934 Watchette II; 1936 Karenita; 1938 Sirocco

LOA: 74’7″ / 22.73m – LWL: 48’9″ / 14.85m – Beam: 14’11” / 4.54m – Draft: 9’6” / 2.89m – Design Number: 0422 – Designer: John G. Alden – Current Owner: Private – Year Launched: 1929 – Built By: George Lawley & Sons, Neponset, Massachusetts USA – Hull Material: Wood – Displacement: 76000 lbs / 34545kg – Ballast: 30000 / 13636 (Lead Casting) – Sail Area: 2086 ft² / 193.80 m²

Historical:

Formerly owned by actor Errol Flynn as ‘Sirocco’, she hosted many famous names in the heyday of Hollywood, and more recently has been the flagship of the fashion clothing company ‘Blanc Bleu’.

Flynn and his buddies indulged in so many antics that they earned the reputation of being the most notorious, hard-drinking “hell-raisers” on the island. Nearly every weekend the men would race their yachts to Catalina – Flynn on his Sirocco, Weissmuller on his Allure, and Bogart aboard his Santana. All three would bet on the outcome.

One particular race between them has reached legendary status. Weissmuller won and promptly boarded Flynn’s yacht to collect his winnings. According to an account related by Johnny Weissmuller Jr., Flynn was “drunk and belligerent,” and responded to his loss by aiming a small cannon mounted on the bow of his yacht at Weissmuller’s boat. As he lit the fuse, he removed a cigar from his mouth and announced: “I’ll sink you, you sumbitch!” Weissmuller rushed to the cannon and kicked the barrel upward, launching the cannonball straight up into the sky. The men watched helplessly as the projectile plunged vertically and tore through the yacht’s upper deck, missing the two by only a few feet. After a few seconds, Flynn “burst into uproarious laughter.”

Provenance (The Wall of Remembrance – The Owners, Crew & Notable Guest):

Owner/Guardian: (1929) Demarest Lloyd, Washington, DC Owner/Guardian: (1938-1946) Errol Flynn Actress/wife: Lili Damita (son Sean Flynn, while on assignment in Cambodia in April 1970, Flynn with fellow photojournalist Dana Stone were captured by communist guerrillas. Neither man was seen or heard from again.) Business Manager: Wally Heinz Actor: David Niven Actor: Johnny Weissmuller Actor: Humphrey Bogart Actor: Lou Costello Actor: Dick Powell Owner/Guardian: (1960s-1970s) Mr. Jack Belcher, Las Vegas architect 1965 Captain Anthony Carter (South Seas cruise, Los Angeles-Tahiti waters and return.) First Mate: M. Smith Cook: John Smedley, Sydney Crew: Bill Davis, Crew: Mr. and Mrs. Roger Seastedt Crew: Miss Laurel Bentley Crew: Miss Judy Malone.

Catalina Islander Errol Flynn Blog Alden’s Designs Tarzan, My Father, by Johnny Weissmuller, William Reed Pacific islands monthly : PIM.Vol. 36, No. 2 ( Feb. 1, 1965)

BARBARA ANNE TUCKERMAN – June 30, 2021

Who owned SIROCCO around 1972/73 ? I sailed on her (briefly) – in the South Pacific off Australia – Black Jack Mutton was a friend of owner –
The boat had been ‘restored’ in NZ I think Can’t imagine I’ll hear but hope to be lucky.
Many thanks.

Judy Colling – November 14, 2021

I was part of a crew that chartered Sirroco in 1965 and sailed to Tahiti. We spent Christmas in Tahiti and New year in Bora Bora. Sirroco was owned by a guy named Jack Belcher. Tony Carter captained the yatch. We where gone 5 months. What a blast. I was 19.

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Barbary restoration blog

The Barbary restoration has commenced in March 2022. The plan is to restore her to her days of glory and recapture the hundred years of history and tradition that have suffused her decks. Every bit of her elegant frame has a tale to tell… from mast to keel, from bow to stern.

Join us and sail back in time as we resurrect the long history and rich heritage of one of our most beloved maritime treasures.

Born on the sunny shores of California in 1926, the Barbary has sailed around the world, returning to New Zealand, the home of her kauri-built heart, in 1947. She has seen plenty of action… from swashbuckling adventure with previous owner Errol Flynn to sailing with the Rainbow Warrior in the Greenpeace fleet to voyaging to the Muroroa Atoll to protest nuclear testing in 1973. She’s had her share of peace and beauty too, sailing right here on our very own Lake Taupō. The Barbary has seen and done it all.

Follow us as her journey continues and we craft future adventures together.

#friendsofbarbary

Barbary lifted

Start of the journey to have her on the lake by 2026 when she will be 100 years old. Barbary is craned onto the truck for relocation to its restoration site.

We will post links to youtube so you see actual footage of the restoration.

She is now scaffolded and shrink wrapped. The inside has been stripped. The deck may be replaced - Glyn is coming to see Barbary II have her deck replaced this week. It's a huge job stripping the teak off.

August 2022

Work under the shrink wrap has been steady with old owner Bill Dawson a regular contributor. A large section of the hull exterior has been soda blasted. The ribs near the keel are being made by Glyn in his steaming device!

Glyn gets deep into the bowels of the boat and discovers more work.

December - June

Stripping the hull and replacing many planks on the port side. Sill a long way before it is glassed and painted.

A boat builder from Hutchesons in Tauranga has been employed.