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Errol Flynn: The Untold Story
Errol The Untold Charles Errol The Untold Doubleday & FIRST First Edition, First Printing. Not price-clipped. Published by Doubleday & Company, 1980. Octavo. Hardcover. Book is like new with spotting on bottom page end. Dust jacket is like new with knicks to covers. 100% positive feedback. 30 day money back guarantee. NEXT DAY SHIPPING! Excellent customer service. Please email with any questions. All books packed carefully and ship with free delivery confirmation/tracking. All books come with free bookmarks. Ships from Sag Harbor, New York. Seller 371601 Biography & Letters We Buy Books! Collections - Libraries - Estates - Individual Titles. Message us if you have books to sell!
- GenresBiographyNonfictionFilm
370 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1980
3 people are currently reading
66 people want to read
About the author
Charles Higham
77 books22 followersCharles Higham was an author and poet. Higham was a recipient of the Prix des Créateurs of the Académie Française and the Poetry Society of London Prize.
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Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews
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April 22, 2023I grew up watching reruns of The Adventures of Robin Hood starring the photogenic Errol Flynn. In due time, I probably saw most of the other swashbuckling classics he starred in: Captain Blood, The Sea Hawk, along with lesser examples such as Don Juan and Against All Flags. Although I now find such films, even the best, pretty much unwatchable, there was obviously something about them that appealed to me as a lad. It must have been Flynn's devil-may-care charisma. A shy, scrawny, awkward boy, I was as far from an alpha male like Flynn as could be imagined. But at least I could enjoy the experience vicariously through his cinematic adventures.
It was a shock, then, to learn that Flynn was a Nazi sympathizer who supplied vital intelligence to the Axis powers during W.W.II. That he'd been recruited during his youth in Australia, before he'd ever set foot in America. That he went to Hollywood not to become a star on the silver screen, but to further the fascist cause by embedding himself in a respected position in American society. And this fantastic story was true--I mean, it just had to be--because this book said so, and it was shelved in "non-fiction" in the Brentwood, New York public library. What a distressing and depressing revelation!
The sensational revelations of Charles Higham's "biography" of Errol Flynn have long-since been debunked as wildly speculative and unsupported by a shred of serious evidence. I believed them for the same reason I believed Flynn's screen personae: youthful credulity. The realization provided an early lesson in the importance of skepticism. "Non-fiction" isn't necessarily synonymous with "true."
If anything good came out of this disgraceful book, it seems to have inspired the idea for the villain (Timothy Dalton) of the retro-pulp classic of early 1990's cinema, The Rocketeer.
It was a shock, then, to learn that Flynn was a Nazi sympathizer who supplied vital intelligence to the Axis powers during W.W.II. That he'd been recruited during his youth in Australia, before he'd ever set foot in America. That he went to Hollywood not to become a star on the silver screen, but to further the fascist cause by embedding himself in a respected position in American society. And this fantastic story was true--I mean, it just had to be--because this book said so, and it was shelved in "non-fiction" in the Brentwood, New York public library. What a distressing and depressing revelation!
The sensational revelations of Charles Higham's "biography" of Errol Flynn have long-since been debunked as wildly speculative and unsupported by a shred of serious evidence. I believed them for the same reason I believed Flynn's screen personae: youthful credulity. The realization provided an early lesson in the importance of skepticism. "Non-fiction" isn't necessarily synonymous with "true."
If anything good came out of this disgraceful book, it seems to have inspired the idea for the villain (Timothy Dalton) of the retro-pulp classic of early 1990's cinema, The Rocketeer.
September 2, 2010
I picked this up at our book swap party, seeing that it was a biography of one of the best swashbucklers out there. Then, a week later, I read the back... where the book claims to uncover evidence and build a case against Flynn as a drug smuggler, a gun runner, a bisexual... and a Gestapo agent. I started reading right there. Higham is clearly a bit insane, in the way conspiracy theorists are, getting strangely obsessed with any time that their subjects' movements are minutely accounted for (here, it's clearly spent sleeping with young boys and meeting up with Nazi agents), and throwing in non sequiter sexual moments. As in, in the middle of talking about his friendship with Ida Lupino, he tosses off that Errol used to masturbate on her door. Then he goes back to sanity in the next sentence. Needless to say, it's pretty entertaining in that certain kind of way. It's detailed (with real and maybe made-up details) up through WW2 and his statutory rape trial, then Higham seems to get bored with the last 10 years of Flynn's life. A fun curiosity to read, but no more than that.
February 19, 2011
Errol Flynn, a fascist sociopath in love with Tyrone Power? Who knew?
April 20, 2018
First things first. Watch this then come back.
I couldn't get that bloody tune out of my head the whole time I was reading so it's only fair you have to deal with it now too. It seems likely songwriters Reyne and McDonough had read Higham's book, because the lyrics specifically make reference to the meat of the work: the supposition that the Tasmanian thespian dipsomaniacal klepto satyromanic was also a dyed-in-the-wool anti-Semite and Nazi.
Yeah.
The only problem with Higham's thesis is that it isn't supported by anyone else. This shouldn't be a surprise given how much space in his obituary is given over to descriptions of how lurid (read: full of shit) his multiple biographies were.
It's a terribly written book. Through the book, Higham heaps shit on Flynn's own autobiographies, claiming they're complete fabrications. If that's true, it's a shame he followed so closely in Errol's footsteps, because little of what the book is sold on - the Nazi connection - is supported by anything other than the pub braggart's go-to: some bloke. The bloke in question, Herman Erben, was a Nazi, but even the author admits that there's no actual evidence pinning the charge to Flynn. It's supposition and sells books, and I shouldn't be surprised given that my copy features an enormous swastika on the front.
(Hooray for '80s cover design subtlety!)
Higham comes across as a bit like the kid who has a girlfriend in another town, so you wouldn't know her, but his Dad works for Nintendo and totally knows that there's a secret code you can put in to make Mario have no pants. You know the type: full of shit. From the outset, Higham foregrounds himself in the work, making it out to be some kind of forensic investigation rather than a lurid beach-read full of tales of drugs and dongs. He heaps shit on Flynn (and Australia) with aplomb, even as he makes basic errors with place names.
The rest of the book is a breathless account of Flynn's racking up of debts and coke, of travelling and pursuing the goal of being a supreme pants-man. His passion for travel is certainly conveyed, but Higham can't help but piss on the guy, even as he tells stories in which Errol wins the girl/beats up all the guys/makes a fart joke all at once. It's as if he's Hercules, all tales of extension. Hell, he's even psychic, knowing he'd end up beneath the sod without a headstone at Forest Lawn.
(That's without going into how precognition stopped him from buying land at Pearl Harbour. I know, right?)
The best thing I learned from this book, though - and I hope it's not a load of horseshit - is that that his publisher's title for his memoir (My Wicked, Wicked Ways) pales in comparison to his preferred title, In Like Me.
In the end, though, I enjoyed the book despite myself. But that's more than likely because of its focus. Flynn was larger than life, and you could pin anything to him and it'd seem credible. Larrikin and OK actor? Yep. Horrible womaniser who jerks off on a neighbour's front door to express his pique? Sure, why not. Boner of Tyrone Power? OK. Drug runner and nature-film director at the same time? I believe it.
I don't like him after what I've read - a better title would be Errol Flynn: Dickhead, especially where the cruelty to animals parts figure - but I did power through the bloody thing, so I applaud Higham in the afterlife for creating something so terrible, yet so compulsive.
He want to pounce/Like an animal
To girls he just can't say no.
It's like terrible fast food: possible to love it and hate it (and yourself) at the same time.
I couldn't get that bloody tune out of my head the whole time I was reading so it's only fair you have to deal with it now too. It seems likely songwriters Reyne and McDonough had read Higham's book, because the lyrics specifically make reference to the meat of the work: the supposition that the Tasmanian thespian dipsomaniacal klepto satyromanic was also a dyed-in-the-wool anti-Semite and Nazi.
Yeah.
The only problem with Higham's thesis is that it isn't supported by anyone else. This shouldn't be a surprise given how much space in his obituary is given over to descriptions of how lurid (read: full of shit) his multiple biographies were.
It's a terribly written book. Through the book, Higham heaps shit on Flynn's own autobiographies, claiming they're complete fabrications. If that's true, it's a shame he followed so closely in Errol's footsteps, because little of what the book is sold on - the Nazi connection - is supported by anything other than the pub braggart's go-to: some bloke. The bloke in question, Herman Erben, was a Nazi, but even the author admits that there's no actual evidence pinning the charge to Flynn. It's supposition and sells books, and I shouldn't be surprised given that my copy features an enormous swastika on the front.
(Hooray for '80s cover design subtlety!)
Higham comes across as a bit like the kid who has a girlfriend in another town, so you wouldn't know her, but his Dad works for Nintendo and totally knows that there's a secret code you can put in to make Mario have no pants. You know the type: full of shit. From the outset, Higham foregrounds himself in the work, making it out to be some kind of forensic investigation rather than a lurid beach-read full of tales of drugs and dongs. He heaps shit on Flynn (and Australia) with aplomb, even as he makes basic errors with place names.
The rest of the book is a breathless account of Flynn's racking up of debts and coke, of travelling and pursuing the goal of being a supreme pants-man. His passion for travel is certainly conveyed, but Higham can't help but piss on the guy, even as he tells stories in which Errol wins the girl/beats up all the guys/makes a fart joke all at once. It's as if he's Hercules, all tales of extension. Hell, he's even psychic, knowing he'd end up beneath the sod without a headstone at Forest Lawn.
(That's without going into how precognition stopped him from buying land at Pearl Harbour. I know, right?)
The best thing I learned from this book, though - and I hope it's not a load of horseshit - is that that his publisher's title for his memoir (My Wicked, Wicked Ways) pales in comparison to his preferred title, In Like Me.
In the end, though, I enjoyed the book despite myself. But that's more than likely because of its focus. Flynn was larger than life, and you could pin anything to him and it'd seem credible. Larrikin and OK actor? Yep. Horrible womaniser who jerks off on a neighbour's front door to express his pique? Sure, why not. Boner of Tyrone Power? OK. Drug runner and nature-film director at the same time? I believe it.
I don't like him after what I've read - a better title would be Errol Flynn: Dickhead, especially where the cruelty to animals parts figure - but I did power through the bloody thing, so I applaud Higham in the afterlife for creating something so terrible, yet so compulsive.
He want to pounce/Like an animal
To girls he just can't say no.
It's like terrible fast food: possible to love it and hate it (and yourself) at the same time.
February 11, 2024
Errol Flynn lived a full and short life. Ultimately the alcohol and drug use ended his life at the age of 50. He may have been one of the first action stars. He was Captain Blood, Robin Hood, and Don Juan. It was said that Flynn was “what every woman wanted and what every man wanted to be”. How could a man who had everything end up such a train wreck? He had a dark side, drugs and alcohol, womanizing, he was charged with statutory rape twice and acquitted both times. The term, “In like Flynn” actually originated from those trials. With all the negative aspects of his life a biographer, Charles Higham claimed to have found an even darker secret, that Errol Flynn was a Nazi Spy. This accusation was based totally on his friendship with a man named Hermann Erben, who was in fact a Nazi Spy. After the release of this biography many have refuted Higham’s claims as nothing more than guilt by association. Either way this is an interesting and even exciting biography that reads like an adventure novel.
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August 3, 2023I can't even give this book a star rating because it was just flat out the craziest thing I've ever read in my life...not even sure if it was a "good" book, but I was never bored. Also not sure how much of it was true, but whatever. Errol Flynn, not a great guy.
May 21, 2022
Eh! Few interesting insights.
April 4, 2023
Very trashy piece of garbage that's all I can say about this book
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
August 1, 2024
What a great blatantly written book about such an awful human being. Wow!
January 5, 2008
This book is somewhat interesting, simply for its sheer, bold-faced lies and the funny way the author does not hide his disgust for Errol Flynn. He accuses Flynn of being a Nazi, a homosexual and of having affairs with Tyrone Power, Howard Hughes and Truman Capote?! Many of the stories in this book have no validity and offer no proof. This would be a great read for those of you who like celebrity crapfests, like TMZ or Extra.
September 23, 2016
By far one of the most biased biographies I've ever read, the author was shameless in his personal views. At one point he brazenly referred to Errol Flynn as an evil man. In either case, looking beyond the author's biases, the subject himself, Errol Flynn was a fascinating individual to read about. Whether agreeing or not with his actions, it is still worth reading about a man who simply lived himself to death.
February 19, 2016
much ballyhooed when released, I didn't know how much to believe, so I pretty much took it all with a grain of salt. I kept telling myself, supposedly the dr. involved saved Flynn's life.; read SOMETIME in 2004. All books I've read re. Flynn are entertaining.
Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews