In the 21st century, movie star Errol Flynn is a distant memory, but he was so huge in his time, that Arnella Flynns drugged and boozed demise seemed to cry out for an investigative trip to the Island.
Reported and written by Kevin Smith in Los Angeles in October 1998.
Its hard to imagine what screen legend Errol Flynn would have wanted for his children. The hell raising Hollywood icon, as famous for his hard drinking and womanizing as for his films, may have enjoyed the idea of one of the kids growing up to be a chip off the old block, following in his staggering footsteps.
But it was probably best “Captain Blood” died long before his daughter Arnella.
Wizened and old before her time she died a sad and lonely drug addict in September 1998, aged 44.
Reduced to stealing coconuts to pay for her cocaine and rum, she lived the life of a poor beach bum while her mother Patrice Wymore, Errol’s third and last wife, lorded it as a plantation owner in Jamaica. She could have lived the good life and been heir to the 3,000 acre Flynn Estate, but like her father she drowned her demons in drink and drugs and died prematurely.
Her exasperated mother, who had long since given up trying to rescue her wayward daughter, tried to turn a blind eye as Arnella paraded around the local beach with her Rastafarian boyfriends, high on a mixture of white rum, white powder and ganja. On September 21 1998 the embarrassment ended when plantation workers discovered Arnella dead in her bed.
The official cause of death was heart failure due to bilateral lung disease. But ask any of the locals on the Caribbean island and they will tell you it was a long, slow suicide by hard living.
“You couldn’t keep up that pace forever,” said Jerky, a market stall owner who would buy vegetables Arnella on her small patch of land. “She was a lovely girl, but her big problem was the coke. She couldn’t stay away from the stuff. “If you do that every night like she did, it will kill you. Everyone knew that was the way she was going to go.”
At a nearby bar nestled on the edge of the sprawling Flynn estate, old women shake their heads as they recall the girl who grew up on the island.
“She used to be such a pretty girl, but at the end she was just a bag of bones,” said Doris Brady. “She looked like an old woman, older than her mum.”
Arnella came late into Flynn’s life. Flynn’s third wife Patrice, his co-star in three films, gave birth to Arnella in Rome. But it was in the St Mark’s Anglican church in Boston, Jamaica, where she was christened. Along with her brother Sean and sisters Deirdre and Rory (correct, Rory is a girl) they all grew up on the island.
Flynn had called Jamaica home since his yacht Zaca ran aground there in a hurricane in the 1940s. Falling in love with the tranquil blue waters, he decided to stay and sank his fortune from film making into the cattle and coconut farm stretched along six miles of coastline. He bought the nearby Titchfield Hotel where he entertained his Hollywood society friends.He won the picturesque Navy Island, sitting just off the coast by his hotel in a boozy dice game.
But when Arnella was just two years old, he split from her mother and moved 17-year-old Beverly “Woodsie” Aadland in to her place. When Arnella was just four her father died of a heart attack in Vancouver where he was trying to sell his yacht to a rich Canadian. He was 50.
“I think one of the problems Arnella had growing up was that everyone around her knew her father, but she didn’t,” said Carol Churchill, attorney for Patrice Wymore. “She had a lot of problems to cope with growing up. And having this famous father you don’t even know hanging over you is not easy.”
Arnella began her slide quickly. When she was just 13 her mother shipped her away from Los Angeles. “I had to get her away from Sunset Strip and all its temptations,” she said in 1983. “She was in danger of becoming a flower child.”
Jamaica was a poor choice for a sanctuary. The rocky coves that attracted Flynn to the island in the first place are used by cocaine smugglers on their way from Columbia to the US with their deadly cargo and marijuana grows freely in the verdant hills around the Flynn home.
But for a while she did appear to make a start in life. She had a son Luke in 1976 by a New Yorker named Carl and spent several years there, working as a model and trading off her famous name. Her face graced the covers of magazines around the world.
But back in Jamaica, where he father’s carousing is still the stuff of legend, Arnella found it tough to carry the Flynn name. She was a celebrity to everyone on the island without ever asking for fame. She took to drinking Wray and Nephew, Overproof White Rum neat. Even her father needed to dilute the liquor with water or juice to stomach it. And she found an endless supply of cocaine, marijuana and men among the easy going Rastas camped out in bamboo huts on Long Bay beach. Most of all, she found companionship.
“She was one of us, man,” said Rasta Anthon “She preferred to spend her time here than with the others. She was cool like that.” “But she should have kept away from the coke. I shared smoke with her, but none of the coke. That stuff messes with your head.”
Willard Hearne, a long time friend and sometime lover, couldn’t believe his luck when Arnella fell for him. A former supermodel and heir to one of the biggest plantations on the island, she was infatuated with the 56-year-old Rastafarian with matted dreadlocks and jaundiced eyes from years of smoking.
“Arnella was a very sweet girl, but she had a lot of problems,” Willard said, sitting on the deck of his jungle shack. “It is a shame she and her mother couldn’t get along. Just days before she died, Arnella got a letter from her mother’s attorney telling her she had to leave the estate, she was being kicked out. She told me she was sad because she had nowhere to go. Then three days later she was dead. I’ll miss her.”
Patrice had often tried to rein her in. She cut off her finances in the hopes that she wouldn’t be able to afford the one-pound-a-line of cocaine from the local dealers. But Arnella turned to selling her homegrown carrots and tomatoes on roadside stalls to tourists for cash. When that ran out, she took to stealing coconuts from her mother’s farm. For Arnella, told when she was a kid she would never want for anything, money still grew on trees. She was banished from the main house to a smaller, tatty house elsewhere on the estate.
In one last bid to cut off the supply, Patrice hired ranger patrols to guard her stocks of coconuts. She could spare the coconuts, but she didn’t want to spare her daughter. It was too late.
By the beginning of 1998, everyone was worried about her health except Arnella herself. She gave up on her appearance. Her hair wrapped in a scarf and her face wrinkled and tired from exposure to the sun, she would wear scruffy clothes as she climbed into her white Suzuki Swift and drive to a beachside bar to buy her cocaine.
“She was constantly out of it,” said Anthon. “She was one of the best people. She was flexible. When she was with us, she talked like a Jamaican, but when she was with the others she talked like an American. She wasn’t stuck up; she wasn’t all high and mighty. She loved the Rasta. She loved the long hair. She had several Rasta boyfriends. That was her thing. “But she was our friend too. We tried to stop her from doing the coke, but you can’t stop doing that stuff until you die.”
A few days after her death, the family gathered at the Trident Hotel to remember the good times. Her son Luke flew in from New York where he works as a photographic model. Her mother Patrice, now in her late seventies, temporarily moved out of her ranch to come to terms with her grief.
They talked long and hard about what went wrong, just as the family had debated Errol’s untimely death forty years ago. There was a brief service at St Mark’s church where she had been christened, but ultimately, her ashes will be flown to Los Angeles where she will be finally laid to rest in a plot next to her famous father in Forest Lawn Cemetery in the Hollywood Hills.
She spent her whole life living trying to live up the reputation of the man she couldn’t even remember. Only in death was she able to get near to him.
Kevin Smith is a British journalist writing out of Los Angeles. He started Splash News, a celebrity news service, when he arrived in America in 1990.Splash provides celebrity news, features and photographs to magazines and newspapers in 34 countries around the world.
the-vu 
i saw her riding on waterskiis at the Blue Lagoon Club many years ago. I was with my parents on a vacation to jamaica. This was before the hurricane destroyed the Blue Lagoon Club. She was blond, and beautiful. I think she was in her early 2o’s or younger. She was having an affair with the owner of the Blue Lagoon Club, or so I was told.
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I had dinner with her when she was 12, along with Patrice and Patrice’s agent, and spent the next afternoon with them and later saw them in Kingston.
And should you repeat gossip, just because of something you heard?
Get a life!
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Wow, it may sound like old hat, but this drug/drink thing is a sickness just like having a cold…a cold for life though. How else can all that die be explained. I
have a drink and some times too much, but to this end is something you are
born with and the pain for her mother must be unreal. We humans are the crazy ones, for sure. R.I.P to all the Flynn’s
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Enter your comments here…So sad. like some many of the Golden Stars of yesteryears children. The Brando’s , the Garlands, so many of their children get so messed up without the guidance and love of a Mom and Dad. For those of us who having caring parents…treasure it and them….
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Enter your comments here…
The disease of addiction has no boundaries. Rich or poor, you are doomed to a life of pure insanity if you give in to your demons. Errol Flynn was one of the most talented and handsomest superstars of his day, but all his fame could not save him from himself. Likewise, his daughter Arnella, who turned her once promising life into a nightmarish existence, chose not to fight off the chemical dependency that finally destroyed her. It’s not surprising that Arnella inherited her father’s proclivity for drugs and alcohol, but it is truly tragic that she did not learn from his mistakes and attempt to seek out the help she so desperately needed. You can say that her father’s fame was hard on her, but what really sealed her fate was her inability to deal with the deadly disease that ultimately claimed her life.
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Really saddened by this story. I met her mother once years ago when I was about 10 at the Jamaica Hill Hotel Lobby in Port Antonio. I was dressed in a 3 piece suit as we were going to church and her mother remarked that I looked sharp. My dad who was with me came over and said that lady (her mother) was Errol Flynn’s widow and said I looked sharp. I responded by saying “Who is Errol Flynn?”
I pray the Lord Jesus’ comfort and peace to her mother whom I know is still alive. May he heal her hurt and refresh her with his love and presence.
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That is truly a wonderful blog post. I am still new to all this but I try to improve. Reading this post helped me a lot in discovering these things. Thanks for making it available and continue the solid work.
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I have known Pat Flynn since I was a child and am still close to her today. She agonized over Arnella more than anyone could know. Pat’s heart is still broken over her death and very few people know the real story, and all that Pat went through with Arnella. Pat is an amazing woman with a strength that few of us have. She lives a quiet life today, but we see her often whenever she comes to the US or I go home to Jamaica. She is a kind and gentle soul and I hope she has many years left.
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proof indeed it’s in the genes,,,,nevertheless the very sad story of misfortune an’ a misunderstood woman,,,,,,
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Arnella was a friend of mine. We sailed together, swam, collected conch and cleaned them for dinner on beaches in the Bahamas and drank rum and zukos. We laughed a lot and she shared how she loved her boy. She even shared her mom with me on a mothers day in the early 90’s. She was my best friend for the 7 months I spent in Jamaica, and the following trip to the U.S. Traveling aboard sailboats, one can lose friends at times. The last I talked to Arnella was around ’93. Often I have tried to locate her, only to find this page. I am very taken aback at what I have read here. Arnella, to me, had so much to give in life and now, I am hurt that I won’t get the chance to find her. She was clean when I knew her, and I am only sorry that I lost her and was not available to help her when she started falling. If her mother or son wants the videos I took of her on Sabina, please leave comment here and I will get you my email for contact. She was so much more than stated and I loved her.
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I can truly say that my experience when my husband and I were running
around the North Coast in Jamaica every year throughout 80’s and late 90’s is
that the locals truly respected the family. There were never a word mentioned
of this going on with Arnella. To bad it wasn’t possible to push for a Jamaican therapist,
I could just amagine how she could of been lost in a beautiful world of her own.
God Bless Patricia and Luke
That is a sign that the Jamaican loved your daughter and mom
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Arnella was a guest in my home when I was a young girl. Her grandparents, The Wymores were family friends of my parents and she was visiting locally. She was only starting out her modeling career and I enjoyed talking with her. She was very polite and I found her to be very easy to converse with. I will always remember the lovely young girl she was then. So very sweet.
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@ Patricia
Perhaps you shoould contact Luke Flynn (Lucas Flynn), her son. He might be interested in the videos. Luke is a Ralph Lauren model and actor these days.
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Arnella was my second cousin and the last time I saw her an Pat (my mom’s first cousin) was in 1967 when I spent the summer with them in LA. Arnella was special and I agonize what Pat went through with her knowing how our family is. My thoughts and love are always with Pat and Arnella.
Julie Sanders
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I just heard about Arnella’s mother’s (Patrice) death today. I love my old movie stars of yesteryear (both great and small) and I am a huge Errol Flynn fan (everyone in my family is-even have a relative named after him). In his prime, he had to be one of the best looking men ever. I didn’t know much about Flynn’s children but learning how Arnella lived and died was heart wrenching. So sad.
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What a sad existince for arnella all the money in the world cannot fend off the power of substanse abuse so unfortunate that her mom couldn’t move her to sobriety sad to hear her moms journey is now over as she passed a day or so ago the good lord brought them together for eternity may they all rest in peace
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Met Arnella in 1986 when I helped Patrice put a tour together, for cruise ship passengers, at the estate in Port Antonio. I used to hang out at the plantation when we were in port. My 27 year old daughter, who was born a year later, reminds me of Arnella in appearance.
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We gave Arnella Flynn a helicopter ride in about 1989 when we were helping film a movie ,lord of the flies. She was a friendly person. A high light of my trip. Sad to hear of all her troubles after that.
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My father, M.C. Mack Caudle was engaged to Patrice for two years, from 1960-1962. They met when she was performing in a review at either The Shamrock Hotel or the Cork Club here in Houston. He bought her two engagement rings, as one was stolen from his glove box at the Caddy dealership.
She was beautiful, arrogant, charming, and had the longest orange nails I’ve ever seen. Dad spent at least one Christmas with her in L.A. and I have pix of that time. She lived at 2961 Nichols Canyon Road. I just remember for some reason. Earl Wilson was always commenting on them in his column. You can look it up on the internet. Dad and Pat even found a great home to buy on Buckingham in Memorial, but since they broke off the relationship, we never lived there. It’s sad about little Arnella. She was a beautiful, sweet kid and we all liked her. She’d have been my step sister. I’ve got some darling pix of her. She came for a couple of visits to Houston.
After hearing and reading about Pat Wymore’s treatment of her and Rory, I’m glad Dad never married her. I believe it was that he wanted a wife, a home for all of us kids, and she wanted to continue her dancing and singing.
Remembering in Houston
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Arnella talked about her brother Sean. She loved him very much. This sad end for such a lovely little girl is a heartbreaker.
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I was fortunate enough to acquire and save all of the letters that Pat and Errol sent to her mother before and after she met Errol including those from the Yacht Zaca when they were on their honeymoon. About 20 years ago I made copies of their wedding album, the scrapbook her mother put together, numerous photos of Arnella when she was an infant, Pat’s birth announcement from the hospital bed to her mother, telegrams to her parents, and much correspondence of the family life. Pat had forgotten much of that over the years and she was not aware her mother saved these family memories. I can never forget what I read in one of the letters of her asking her mom that “It would do my heart good if you could help (young rag a muffin kid that was a stowaway on their yacht Zaca) this young man that would otherwise never have a life to get him a job in the US.. My letter to Pat was, it would do my heart good to return these family photos to you. She called me about a year later in tears thanking me for sending to her. We talked for hours and it was good. She did not say anything about any problems with Arnella and only had good things to say about her and Errol. We talked about putting together a museum for Errol and she mentioned she would like to do that someday. Many of those photos I sent her are on her website. The next time I spoke with her, she informed me that Arnella had passed away. She was very much in pain as I could tell by her voice. Nobody on this planet can say anything bad about Pat or Arnella that would take away the good things they did in life. It is a great loss to those that really care about good human beings.
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I remdmber Arnella ,she was my roommate in boarding school at Immaculate Conception High School in Kingston Jamaica and also sat beside me in class. She
had problems back then.RIP Arnella.
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I am an American who lived in Australia for six years in the 1970s and, by chance, met a Tasmanian who’d been a boyhood chum of Errol’s. The charisma of young Errol Flynn must have been powerful because, forty years later, when he told me first-hand stories of Errol’s looks, charm, and propensity to “bend the rules”, it was as if Errol was in the room, still legendary, still demanding attention.
I’ve entertained a whimsical notion that Flynn was given the choice of life he’d get — either a long, boring life of 100 years, or a life a glamor and excess that would only last 50 years. We know which he chose.
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I met Arnella when we both attended Boarding School at Jamaica’s Immaculate Conception High School. Although, she was a grade ahead, during the time she attended I.C.H.S., I remember her as a tall, blonde sweet girl, whom everybody liked. I got to know her really well, as she was one of my close friend, Jennifer Jacobson’ roommate. R.I.P. dear Arnella. 💫
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