"He Does As He Pleases", pg 3
from Modern Screen magazine, 1937

When he married Lili Damita, that, too, could be explained by the same quality. She was a madcap and all Hollywood shook its head. It never would work out. But would Errol Flynn, with that restlessness in himself, ever be attracted to anyone but a madcap? Many people have thought that their subsequent bickerings and separations, their constant kissing and making up, was a sure sign of the end, or perhaps it was all a publicity build-up. But it is neither. It's just that Errol, because of his amazing background, is the kind of person who can never be hemmed in for long. As he broke through that day in his first picture, so he breaks through and away every once in awhile.
Sometimes it gets him into trouble, sometimes it makes critical enemies, often it leads to misunderstandings, but even when it has these bad results, Errol still can't help himself. There was that time not long ago when he disappeared for ten days. The studio needed him at the time for re-takes and looked everywhere for him. He was not to be found, and he had left no forwarding address. They raged and tore their hair in vain. When Errol was good and ready he came back. He had been off in a trailer through the northern part of California. "I needed to get away," was the only excuse he could offer.

Again, he's a headache as far as publicity is concerned. When appointments are made for photographs or interviews, it's never certain that he'll show up, and if he does, he's always an hour or two late. Here's the story they tell about Errol and a certain writer. The writer had been after him for weeks and finally, one day Errol agreed to make it for lunch at the studio. "Don't you worry," he said, "I'll be there all right. I'm seeing Lili off to Europe at ten, and I'll be there at twelve." Twelve came, but no Errol. At one he was still absent. The writer and a member of the publicity department, at a table reserved for three, began to eat. At two they still were looking nervously at the door every time it opened. Finally the waitress said, "Who are you waiting for?" and they told her. She laughed.

"No need waiting for him," she said. "Just before I came on duty, I saw him driving that big car out of here through the gate at fifty miles an hour, tearing like mad. He ain't going any place either. He's just traveling! Sometimes when he goes out like that he don't come back for days."
"Then I guess you won't want me!" It was the voice of a still man who had just come in with his camera. Earlier in the day he had been told that Errol would be there at two and he was to get a picture.
"Oh, I don't know about that," said the writer. "Suppose you take a picture anyway -- of us and the empty chair. Then I'll get him to autograph it. Maybe it'll teach him a lesson."
Accordingly, the picture was made and a week or so later it was presented to Errol. "I think it's a good likeness of you, don't you?" asked the writer. "Now if you'll just put something cozy on it, you know, to show what a nice time we had together?"