Kolchak: The Night Stalker - Bad Medicine

According to Sonoran Indian legend, a diablero is a brujo (sorcerer) who by way of black magic can transform himself into a variety of wild creatures, such as birds of prey, dogs, wolves, coyotes and more.

Last week we had a threat who was human - imbued with Satanic powers, yes, but human. Robert Palmer in The Devil's Platform was human in his ambition, in his cunning, and in his deliberation. Sorcerers likewise are human beings, but for all the characterization the diablero gets in Bad Medicine it had me wondering whether Richard Kiel was playing a man who could appear as an animal or an animal who could appear as a man.

Wealthy women in Chicago are beginning to die off. At first it looked like suicide, until a chauffer also adds his body to the count via a broken neck. He was clutching a black feather. Kolchak also witnesses firsthand a robbery in which a police dog is killed apparently by another dog (or coyote) and two guards turn their own guns on themselves. A man is seen in Native American garb, is chased to the roof from which he leaps, and vanishes into thin air*.

it's got the INS staff abuzz. Tony isn't convinced there's a story to be had. Were the early deaths suicides? His staff can't see eye to eye with him on that, or that it's reasonable that the wealthy have wanted to keep a low profile. Ron Updyke is sent to cover the funeral but is too sensitive to do the job. Miss Cowles thinks Carl is on to something with the deaths being suspicious. Meanwhile, Carl is chasing tangents about coyotes and some nut dressing up like an Indian. Vincenzo's having a hard time drawing it into coherence.

If Vincenzo thinks the story is a mess, I too think the story is a mixed bag. Medicine bag maybe. There's a useful pun somewhere but I can't make it work.

A friend recently commented that the INS gang reminds him of Barney Miller: a motley ensemble of well-drawn, distinct, quirky personalities that bounce lines off each other with delicious timing. He's absolutely right. For the third week in a row the writing feels organic to the characters, and perhaps even more confident as it handles the entire newsroom at once in multiple scenes. If only Monique had still been around, it would have been a full house and a full episode. Even a sarcastic young photo lab tech gets a good scene. Never mind the spooky stuff - If K:TNS were a sitcom that never strayed from this single set, I'd watch it loyally.

Since my friend pointed this out, it becomes obvious that the guest cast fits the comparison as well. barney Miller thrived by its regular cast, but were fed material through an endless stream of colorful strangers who filed through the precinct case by case - vivid and hilarious people fully rounded and played by veteran character actors of the era. Every week you'd see actors you'd seen a dozen times before. Alice Ghostley, for example, who shows up on TNS this week as the curator of a museum on Native American folklore. She plays the part straight, yet her reaction bubbles with humor beneath when the details turn too preposterous. Another amusing scene is Kolchak dealing with a strict dog owner and trying to soothe his own nerves by speaking German to a well-disciplined canine. This parade of eclectic irregulars for comic relief is part of K:TNS' niche. When it delivers on this score, applying the comedy with the lightest touch and emphasizing character over humor, it's worth seeing.

I wish I could say the rest of this episode holds up its end. Give credit for an interesting choice of villain, at least, and for looking outside the West's dominant faith for inspiration. How it's handled on the other hand...

Purely on a surface level, the attacks by the sorcerer are eerie in their details but not conducive to a traditionally spooky atmosphere. Richard Kiel plays the diablero, and his stony face and malevolent glare are plenty menacing. The spookiness comes from the use of sound: first an animal of one form or another trespasses on a scene, and it's vocalizations are treated with an electronic distortion that remains in the air; then when the brujo appears the score goes breathy over a relentless percussion. The victims are under a spell. This works for me, though I've seen the episode so many times that altogether it fails to make me feel a pervading chill and I'm not sure anymore how much it ever did. It does lead to an appreciably tense finale when Kolchak tries to put an end to the sorcerer but loses the one weapon that could render the sorcerer powerless. Even that, though is hobbled by unintended absurdity. Kolchak creeps up on the brujo who is intoning (in an electronically altered voice) an incantation that is surely meant to sound otherworldly. "EE-eye-ee-eye-ohhh, ee-eye-ee-eye-ohhh, OOOOH ee-eye-ee-eye-oh." Pretty much takes the piss out of the scene.

So too is the investigation aspect weak this week, as first Carl leaps to a number of conclusions that are dubious. Saving a great deal of time, Victor Jory appears unbidden as a Native American holy man who not only knows everything Kolchak needs to learn about diableros but even miraculously happens to know the very one terrorizing Chicago. That ought to be a good story, right? But we don't get it, and Carl hasn't the wit to ask. Diableros are a Southern legend, this one is pretty far afield. These are the beliefs of the people of the pueblos, the communities that lived in apartment-like multi-lever housing of adobe, often along cliffsides. Kolchak lights on a story Ron is working, conveniently dropped earlier in the script, of an unfinished highrise.

Here is where the greatest disappointment Bad Medicine lies. I'm reminded of a scene in Hitchcock's Foreign Correspondent in which another journalist, played by Joel McCrae learns that he is being sent to Europe to discover whether war is going to break out. He asks his astonished editor whether it might be a good idea to interview Hitler. "He must have something on his mind." Don't you think this diablero must have something on his mind? That's a conversation I would love to have heard. Instead, Kolchak - and the script - treat him as a creature to be hunted down and killed. It's a fine line walked by the script, as the holy man informs us that this diablero is under a curse to "wander the centuries" seeking treasure, and only after amassing a magnificent fortune may he pass into the next world. So...is he or is he not still human? No, never mind that, is he or is he not still interesting as a character? And, troublingly, is Kolchak guilty of forgetting that a human being is owed the right to trial? When he confronted Robert Palmer, it was to thwart him not kill him. The metaphysical state of the diablero (human or spirit) is left purposely vague so that we won't raise that objection. I think it's a dodgy kinda dodge.


More than one opportunity is lost here. I imagine the producers felt that The Night Stalker was not a property they wanted to get political with, though by the Seventies most television was dealing with prejudice and resentments, and injustice toward the Native American population well acknowledged - meaning, not an issue likely to rile viewers. Never mind, I wouldn't have expected much on that count anyway...but there's a more damning loss here, and that's the dramatic one. Let the diablero speak for himself. Let the conflict challenge us. There's a story here! Or, to quote Kolchak from one of the movies, "This is news, Vincenzo, nyyeewwws!"

5 "pyoo--webb-loes", give or take wiring and ductwork.

Asides:

Eidth Cowles, last week referred to as "Miss Emily" (whom we know is the INS advice columnist) officially announces herself as Emily Cowles when she answers the phone. Gaffe: she drops the 's' from her own name.

*Where does that phrase come from, 'into thin air'? I guess vanishing into thick air is pretty mundane, isn't it? Like losing someone in a fog.

Kolchak: The Night Stalker - The Devil's Platform

It's good to see a villain that's human for a change, even if said  villain does spend most of his of time running around on all fours.

It's election time, and Chicago is finding Senate hopeful Robert Palmer simply irresistible.   It doesn't hurt that his opponents are dropping like flies.  His allies too - Kolchak is in the right place at the right time to witness a tragic elevator failure that kills a carload of people that included one Stephen Wald,  a disillusioned campaign member that was about to disclose some damaging material on Palmer.  The only survivor is a big black dog Carl manages to photograph.  The dog runs away, with Carl accidentally snagging a pendant it was wearing.  We the audience know that Palmer got into the elevator - he wasn't in it when it hit the basement.

For once Vincenzo is supportive of a story Kolchak is following, provided it's solidly based in evidence.  It's a good, down-to-earth story of political corruption.  It does have an irritating drawback, as Kolchak insists on obsessing over that dog.  The damned thing keeps showing up.  It attacks Carl when he drops in on the Palmer estate hoping for an interview (bites a hole in Kolchak's pocket and takes back the pendant), and is seen by police ripping apart Wald's secretary who had a briefcase full of blackmail material on Palmer.  Off the record?  The police shot six rounds into that dog at close range, and it just stood there staring at them like it enjoyed it.  Meanwhile, the dog has disappeared from Kolchak's photo.  The dog has five toes per paw, which Updyke informs him is impossible.

I've been complaining that the writing of the episodes has been venturing into camp, which can be either amusing or painful, and threatens my suspension of disbelief.  Light comic relief is one thing, and it works if it rises organically from the characters and situations.  It's quite another if it becomes outright comedy that relies on caricatures or too-clever byplay.  Firefall was the show done right, IMO,   with well-rounded characters, a clever plot that doesn't take a predictable path, and humor that's organic.  TDP has another smart script well-directed, though not up to the level of Firefall - it's never particularly scary, nor does it surprise or misdirect.  We know what's going on well ahead of Kolchak, where it would have been more rewarding to discover the secrets of the case with him.  all the same, it's a nicely urbane piece with good character writing.  Vincenzo is less bellicose and more the model of an editor with a head for a good story ethically presented.  Updyke and Kolchak play their scenes less like high school rivals and more like realistic colleagues; they  trades shots at each other but not so maliciously that they can't share office space together.  Ruth McDevitt as Edith Cowles finally clicks into place, revealed as the advice columnist "Miss Emily" who was much alluded to but not seen in 'The Ripper'.  She's a pleasant sort, always wanting to do nice turns for her fellow office workers like buying them gifts when she's out of town.  She brings Carl a nice hat.  It's...not a Kolchak hat.  But it's a nice hat.

In the course of covering the story Carl meets a doctor who tries to brush him off, and doesn't reveal much, but the exchange is notable for a couple of reasons.  One, the dialog is terse and sharp without being bombastic.  In fact, this episode is entirely devoid of the usual antagonism between Kolchak and the  authority-of-the-week (there isn't a foil at all this week), which is a welcome change.  The doctor is mistrustful, secretive, abrasive, but also reasonable.  Also a female authority figure, with no fuss made about it, in a show that's been spotty on it's presentation of women.

Then there's our villain, Palmer, coolly played by now-veteran Tom Skerritt in an  early role.  He's an icy one, married to an equally icy woman unruffled in public but unhappy in private.  Her breezy rebuffs of Kolchak's efforts made me want to see more of her. (Kolchak: "What's it like, living with Bob?"  "He's perfect."  "I wish I were."  "So do I.  Goodnight.")  That doesn't happen, but with an economy of scenes we learn that privately she is left cold from her husband's pursuit of power and uncomfortable with his secrets.  We get the sense he's not the same man anymore.  He's certainly not a man who would hesitate to turn on her.  It's not a lot of development but it's more than the standard monster on TNS gets. 

Everything falls into place for Kolchak a mere ten minutes or less from the closing credits when an info packet on Palmer lands on his desk.  The candidate is seen in one photo wearing the same pendant that the dog sports: a pentacle in a circle.  Kolchak scours the libraries for books on Satanism.  He also reaches for Ms. Cowles' souvenir bottle of holy water. 

There's a nice sequence herein involving the INS darkroom.  A solid minute and forty seconds are spent developing a blowup of Palmer to see the medallion, and developing tension.  No  coincidence that the scene is dark, lit entirely in red.  Yes, that's standard for a darkroom but it also plays on the nerves and sets a mood.  Normally we should have  had Monique doing the work for him, with half a minute of banter serving as exposition.  We know what the scene is leading to, and utilizing Monique would have cut to the chase...but that would have lent the scene an entirely different flavor, useless to the episode.  Instead the director takes three times as long and establishes a mood of dread before the inevitable confrontation.

Kolchak sneaks into the Palmer household that evening and finds Robert in his basement preparing a ritual.  Palmer knows he's there and calmly calls him forth.  Skerritt underplays the scene beautifully, no histrionics or boasting an all the more threatening for his supreme confidence.  He makes Kolchak an offer: he could become the evening's blood sacrifice or he could see his life's ambitions to fruition by becoming a servant and acolyte.  Palmer's going to the top, President, and he'll need allies in the press - people to squelch honest  reporting and be a conduit for his lies.  That's how tyrants work, history shows.  Sad I need to reiterate that, but in 2017 the lesson is still timely...and the devil has nothing to do with it.  We saw it in Russia, in any number of Third World countries, in '30s Germany, and we're seeing it again today.  That's not a matter of right or left, it's a matter of democracy and freedom.  I know people on both sides of the aisle who are alarmed.  Devalue a free press, and slide into tyranny. 

"The offer expires almost immediately."  Skerritt gets a monologue that includes an  insightful passage about Kolchak himself.  "You're a good reporter.  Not a great one, you have character flaws that are going to keep total success from your grasp, but you are nonetheless a very good reporter.  You would like more than anything to have the Pulitzer Prize.  Though publicly you scorn the very concept of awards, you would like more than anything else to get to New York and work on a major daily paper.  You would even like a suede-backed chair at your desk.  Not leather, suede.  Such small ambitions, really.  Your editor is Anthony Vincenzo, he frustrates you terribly...you blame him for your problems but you know that you yourself are responsible for most of them. Mr. Kolchak, all those stumbling blocks can be very easily put aside.  You can have as little as you want and much more, starting tonight."

This is the crux of the threat.  Words, carefully chosen and backed up by demonstrated power.  The threat lies in a moral choice.  This again is an important change from the usual baited chase and trap, to the story's benefit.  We're never in doubt what Kolchak will choose, but we can feel how palpable the temptation for him. At the episode's start Kolchak laments that politicians seem "fearless, independent, and energetic" rather than "like the rest of us: timid, insecure, and lazy". Now Palmer is telling Kolchak that Palmer was just like him and did something about it. We've never seen a conundrum hit so close to home for Kolchak before.   Rightfully, he never voices his reason for the choice he makes - be it simplistic or complex, fueled by morals, personal integrity, or just stark terror at consigning his soul to darkness.  

I will give it 9 nice hats.  In spite of it's lack of scares, it's a good story.

Asides:
a bartender is played by Stanley Adams, Tribble-trader Cyrano Jones of Star Trek.

The juxtaposition of politics and Satan is not a new one, but The Devil's Platform looks forward to The Omen (which also has scenes involving scary dogs) just a couple of years down the road.  It's sequel, Damien: Omen II, even features a demise by crashing elevator.  Omen III: The Final Conflict has a nice turn by Sam Neill as the Antichrist that might have been inspired by Skerritt's unruffled quietude in TDP - they look not dissimilar to each other. 

Kolchak: The Night Stalker - Firefall

People in the life of celebrated composer Ryder Bond keep dying.  The circumstances are suspicious, with Bond himself spotted on the scene each time despite having alibis.  The police can find no hint of foul play - the victims died of fire, seemingly accidentally.  A cigarette, the police say, dropped on a mattress when the smoker fell asleep.  What no one can explain is how the bodies could be incinerated so quickly yet leave only minimal damage to surroundings, including the furniture on which the remains were found lying.

While I don't really remember the entire episode from childhood - I think most of it went over my head - I vividly recall two scenes as particularly frightening. 

Maybe the reason it didn't entirely connect is because it took a creepy concept - spontaneous combustion - and tried to adapt it to a show about monsters.  SC freaked me out as a kid, the one supernatural thing that disturbed me more (almost) than I wanted to hear about.  A person falls asleep, then the body consumes itself from the inside out in unimaginable heat but without causing a fire around it.  That's pretty damn scary.  Problem is, it's a phenomenon without an agenda.  It doesn't stalk people, it just...happens.  In a show like this you have to have a cause that can be investigated, and the investigation has to lead somewhere dramatic.  You need a villain.  In this case, the solution to the mystery strays so far from SC that it kinda lost me along the way.  Ghosts and SC don't share a connection.

Not just any ghost,  Firefall's premise focuses on a doppleganger.  In folklore a doppleganger was not the same as a ghost.  Though a wraith, they were inextricably linked to a living person as if an integral part of themselves: their evil twin in spirit form.  Firefall takes liberties with the doppleganger, as one of Kolchak's resources informs him that it is the ghost of one who envied the target in life and wishes to torment him with the eventual aim of becoming him.  Rider Bond inspired such feeling in one Franky Markoff, an arsonist recently executed gang-style.  Franky loved music and dreamed of being a conductor.  Now an undead spirit, he's bent on getting his wish.  Bond's musicians begin  to die...then his girlfriend, his manager...  Ryder Bond is beside himself.  Literally.

Firefall, I believe, is one of the finest episodes of the series with one of the best scripts.  Kolchak overhears a juicy lead on his police scanner, and soon thinks he may have a story implicating the composer  in a murder or two.  He doesn't know what going on, and for once neither do we.  Nor does Bond, played by Fred Beir with a nuanced restraint: initially cold and imperious with the arrogance of fame, then rattled, ultimately reaching exhausted submission to the reporter trying to save him. Kolchak is on display having to work for his story.  The story unfolds at a steady pace, keeping us intrigued without boring us  or making wild leaps.  Office byplay is more credible than usual, the humor organic to the situation rather than overt or forced - no Abbott & Costellos routines with Vincenzo.  Uptight acts like a schoolboy tattler, justifying Kolchak's abuse of him earlier, yet still displays the genuine concern of a fellow colleague later when Carl reaches a point of collapse.  Monique Marmelstein is used sparingly, trying to be quite helpful as usual without her initial grating armor of defensiveness.  Among many interviews, Kolchak meets the family of the deceased Markoff, where the arsonist's son promises to continue his father's sickness.  It's amusing in a sick, chilly, nasty way.  Each character comes across as fully dimensional - the gypsy friend Carl consults, the police sergeant who does not bluster over Kolchak but reasonably finds him aggravating (as does a witness's dog), Ron Updyke, Monique, Ryder, and even Carl himself in his earnest concern for the life of a man he had set out to expose as a murderer.

The scares are also top shelf, I think, again organic to the premise.  For example, there's a shuddery moement of realization when Kolchak meets with the conductor and after several minutes of talking realizes he was conversing with the spirit instead.   In another scene, the unseen ghost is offended and attacks a piano - the piano seems to go mad all on it's own. Firefall's best setpiece is not the usual stalk-and-trap we've seen before nor even the finale (the finale is plenty chilling and full of fever-dream menace), but a scene of deep panic and pathos as a nearly broken Ryder Bond seeks refuge on sanctified ground as advised by one of kolchak's sources.  He's in a church,  to be exact, desperate for sleep.  If he sleeps, the doppleganger will take him.  The threat is a complicated one - he's in the greatest danger from  people who want very much to help him, thinking he is having a breakdown, they wish to remove him from the church and give a sedative.  They do not see what only Bond and Kolchak can: Bond's diabolical doubled leering in through an open window impossibly high in the church wall.  As they look on, the doppleganger multiplies to become many Bonds tormenting, taunting, rapping at the windows.  It's a hellish spectacle and frightened the crap outta me as a child.  I was not raised in any faith, but I knew the church was supposed to mean sanctuary...here was  a demon that could reach you even there. 

Nor is sleep a refuge, in Firefall.  That also frightened me though the scene at the INS office is played for humor (understated, as I said).  Remember, this originally aired just before my bedtime.  What better evening sendoff that a story in which falling asleep is what kills you?

10 pieces of dubious pet care advice from a non-veterinarian.

Kolchak: The Night Stalker - The Werewolf

 On a cruise liner full of party animals on the prowl, one passenger truly is your boogieman.

It's Winter, and one lucky editor is getting away on a cruise line for swinging singles.  That Tony Vincenzo, what a stud!  Alas, the office Christmas party gifts him with a lump of coal in the form of auditors.  Updyke won't take the ticket, he'd be happier being miserable with his imaginary cold.  Reluctantly, then, the cherished getaway goes to Kolchak - and Vincenzo's damn well not gonna let him enjoy it!  This is a working trip, boyo, Tony wants an expose of the Love Boat.

Once aboard, Kolchak is surrounded by great stories.  An ocean liner, formerly a majestic icon of grace, about to be decommissioned as obsolete in the jet age playing host to a crowd of '70s-modern, sexually jaded passengers rejecting old mores...a divinity school flunky on the make and a purser on the take...a couple who were married and found the institution didn't suit them, and are now are happily divorced swingers together.  it's rich pickings, but Kolchak is more fascinated by the four freshly mangled corpses in the ship's swimming pool.

All hell breaks loose that first night of the cruise.  Something wild is killing passengers on deck, and the crew is running around in pandemonium trying to figure out what it is they're looking for.  Kolchak can't help but notice.  As a ship's crew will, it's 'nothing to see here' to everyone not wearing a uniform.  Captain's a busy man, no time for questions. They all come face to face with the killer that night: a nattily dressed wildman with a face full of hair.  The men are tossed around, and Kolchak is knocked unconscious.

He awakens later in the infirmary to the sound of a fellow passenger upset over horrible nightmares and a wound that hasn't healed for weeks, and is irate at not being given sedatives.  His name is Bernard Steiglitz, he's an officer with NATO, he has anger management issues.

And is hair was perfect.

Steiglitz is a good move for K:TNS, the first monster featured to be given any kind of character depth at all.  Not much, and it's pretty standard for a werewolf portrayal - the guy knows what he is and is distraught over an inability to keep from transforming and killing innocents...but it's more than the series has offered us before in their gallery of creatures.  Steiglitz is played with intensity by Eric Braeden, of The Forbin Project and Escape From the Planet of the Apes.  Braeden is an actor of dark, quiet intensity who holds your attention just standing still.  As Braeden, his intensity is giving way to anger.  Braeden is a little too cold to feel sorry for, but it's  enough to understand the tragedy of his circumstance.  He's not a willing monster, but he's killing all the same.

Leavening that is a strong streak of humor.  Humor has been a part of the Kolchak formula from the first film but it has ramped up considerably since even The Ripper.  First is the fun had at the expense of put-upon Vincenzo and the nebbishy Updyke who  does not have the Winter flu but is  certain the supplements he is taking are making him ill.   This time TNS goes over the line into broader humor with one character suggesting a "drinkie-winkie" and comic actor Dick Gautier (RIP) as movable mouth Mel Tarter, half of the happily-divorced-and-still-dating couple.  Gautier is known for Hymie on Get Smart, but to me he'll always be Robin Hood on When Things Were Rotten.  He's a Love Boat, Love American Style stereotype strictly for laughs, none too bright but always lit, we suspect, friendly and tacky.

Mel's polar opposite is found in Captain Wells (Henry Jones), as sturdy as his ship and twice as icy as the waters it's in.  Again for TNS it's casting to type making use of Jones' air of long-suffering exposure to fools.  Wells can quote every line of sea law that will see Kolchak introduced to irons while the reporter himself cannot fast-talk his way past a single one of Well's men.

Wells: "Article 22, Revised Maritime Code, should any passenger or passengers exhibit, in the captain's opinion, an unbalanced state of mind the captain may order such passenger be put-"

Kolchak: "- to sleep, yes, I know."

Kolchak is fast but the crew is faster, and potential romantic hookup Paula (Nita Talbot) is the fastest of them all.  She's intelligent, which might be why she continues to find  Carl fascinating even after he proves oblivious to sexual overtures.  Too bad, as they have a pretty good chemistry.

Kolchak's seeming asexuality is curious though nothing is made of it, but then the episode is full of incongruous moments that might be funnier than the more overt jokes.  For instance, for a ship full of people who presumably can't wait to party all night, Kolchak is the only person alarmed by the sight of the crew rushing all over the ship in a panic.  "I don't know what's gotten into everyone!" Paula says.  "Claws and fangs", he quips.  Or there's the usual trope of Kolchak's delving into resources to understand what he's up against.  Being aboard ship, he has to rely on Paula's extensive store of movie lore to learn  about lycanthropy.  What better source for a horror show to lean on than Hollywood!  We have silver dress uniform buttons melted to make silver shotgun shells - and exactly what is a shotgun doing aboard a ship?  Is hunting on the list of approved amenities?  I know gun laws were looser then, but really! 

What sets The Werewolf apart is the setting.  The Werewolf was filmed aboard the RMS Queen Mary to give it an air of authenticity, and it's well used.  The beast is every bit as trapped aboard as his fellow passengers and likely prey, and so is Kolchak. In this setting, all anyone can do is stalk, run in panic, or hide behind locked doors.  Everything leads back to itself, a closed circuit maze of corridors and ladders. There's something about ships that make them particularly affecting as a horror setting. Echoes of the Marie Celeste and the Titanic lurked under my thoughts while watching. 

I have to wonder shy a man who knows he's a werewolf books a cruise during a full moon.

Pace is brisk, including the choppy editing  technique that has come to mark the show.  that helps, because the werewolf makeup is nothing inspired. The one look we get, a blurred freeze-and-zoom, is still too clear to be helpful.  Nor does it help that what we are told is bodies "torn limb from limb" can't be shown on television of the era.  I expect a werewolf to tear someone up, not throw him over a railing. 

On balance, I think I have to give it 8 improvised leg irons.


Asides:

Ruth McDevitt returns to the cast as INS contributor Edith Cowles, a creator of puzzles.  McDevitt was first seen as the self-described "weirdo" writing to Miss Emily about her creepy neighbor.  She must have impressed the producers.

Once Kolchak is no longer in his presence, Captain Wells admits that he believe Kolchak may be right.  That's a welcome change and marks him as a smart man.

Kolchak is a writer but he doesn't know what a polemic is?

Wolves do attack humans, but rarely and not for sport but for food or territorial trespass.  They are reputed to be shy of confrontation.  For sheer viciousness, wolves have nothing on mankind.  That should mean that werewolves are at their most dangerous  whenever the moon is not full.

One week it's October, the next Spring, then Winter.  Never mind the  weather, Chicagoans need forecasters to tell them  what time of year it's gonna be tomorrow.