Whistling in the Dark
The Haunting Legacy of Kolchak: The Night Stalker
By Lissa Townsend Rodgers
Whistling in the dark. We do it when we’re alone, when we’re not sure if we’re alone. We do it to pretend we’re not afraid, a ruse we present not just to whatever may be out there, but to ourselves. If you must walk through the valley of the shadow of death, you can at least do it with a little swagger and a tune on your lips.
A whistle in the dark always introduced newspaper reporter Carl Kolchak at the opening of Kolchak: The Night Stalker before the theme music kicked in. The Night Stalker was an unpublished novel that became a blockbuster TV movie that became a flop series that became an influential cult classic. Played by Darren McGavin in two TV movies and 20 series episodes, Kolchak is cynical, abrasive and disdainful of everything but his pursuit of the truth. Perpetually clad in a rumpled seersucker suit accessorized with a straw porkpie hat, as well as a camera around his neck and tape recorder dangling from his shoulder, he was the stereotype of the old-school newspaperman, a character familiar from the works of Mark Twain and Graham Greene, Frank Capra and Billy Wilder. He was willing to lie, cheat, steal and risk his life — not for money or glory, but for the story.
The first reveal of the vampire’s blood-shot eyes and papery skin. ABC Circle Films. ABC/Disney
But what raised Kolchak: The Night Stalker above the archetype he so brilliantly embodied were the subjects he investigated and wrote about. A shape-shifting Native American spirit driving socialites to suicide. A woman who maintains eternal beauty by sacrificing college students to Greek gods. A werewolf running amok on a singles cruise. Carl Kolchak encountered a herd of characters from spellbooks and fairy tales, pursuing them with the same “just the facts” doggedness he would a mayoral candidate or hospital CEO.
Original movie poster for the TV movie The Night Stalker (1972). Produced by ABC Circle Films. ABC/Disney.
This is one of the essential elements of the Kolchak character: He’s no paranormalist or alien hunter and doesn’t come in with a predisposition to believe in the supernatural. He never jumps to an outrageous conclusion but continues seeking a rational explanation until the witnesses, the evidence and the research make it impossible to consider anything else. Throughout his hero’s journey to the bottom of the story, he would meet botanists and barbers, taxidermists and taxi drivers, all roles embodied by some of Hollywood's finest character actors in full quirk, helping a skeptic to believe the unbelievable.
Kolchak: The Night Stalker made an impression on countless viewers. “I was six going on seven when the show premiered, which is both a time of hazy memories and a time where it's easy to have your young mind blown,” says Dan Barton, managing editor of Kingston Wire and a longtime newsperson in the Hudson Valley. “At that age, I took the old Batman TV show dead seriously, and I took Kolchak that way too.”
The show lingered in late-night reruns on three networks for several decades, where I discovered it at about age nine and was immediately hooked. As a bookish kid, Kolchak’s solitude and passion for the stories he pursued appealed to me and, even without the addition of the supernatural, he traveled amongst a variety of fascinating and unusual worlds. The creatures weren’t scary enough to keep me up at night, although I discovered that some would haunt me in a less immediate, but more unsettling way.
The film opens with Kolchak sitting in a shabby motel room, speaking into his tape recorder — setting up a trope of voiceover narration that would continue throughout the movies and series. It was a powerful way to underline the show’s film noir/pulp fiction inspiration, as well as his status as the outsider who observes. He says he will tell us the true story of a series of murders but declares ruefully that “this will be the last time I will ever discuss these events with anyone.”
Kolchak works at the (fictional) Las Vegas Daily News, having landed in Sin City after burning his bridges in multiple municipalities. His lovingly exasperated girlfriend Gail (played by Carol Lynley, who starred in The Poseidon Adventure the same year), has followed him through ten jobs in four cities. What she does for a living is never named, but apparently involves hanging around the casino in bias-cut silk. At his job, Kolchak is assigned to cover the murder of a change girl, normally not a big story because, as he says, “in any town the size of Las Vegas, the murder of one young woman hardly causes a ripple. But then the ripples started.”
The body of Bonnie Reynolds, a 27-year-old cocktail waitress, is discovered sans-blood near a half-built on-ramp in the desolate desert near the airport. Strangely, there are no footprints in the sand beside the victim. ABC Circle Films. ABC/Disney.
A waitress is found near a half-constructed on-ramp in the empty desert near the airport…But there are no footprints in the sand. Another young woman dies on her back porch, steps away from her harvest-gold-and-avocado kitchen. All of the women have been drained of blood, a fact no medical professional can deny but no city official wants to discuss. A drinking buddy jokes vampires and Kolchak laughs right along… until a blood bank gets robbed.
“In the meantime, we see the killer slinking around the city's dark corners, seeking another victim or, failing that, an unattended hospital refrigerator. He is neither suave Oldman/Lee bloodsucker nor creepy Nosferatu/Fright Night undead, but a pasty-skinned, dead-eyed fellow with a bad haircut and a nice suit, kind of like the dorky younger brother of Dark Shadows’ Barnabas Collins with the ass-kicking powers of Wolverine from the X-Men.”
The police manage to ID a suspect through fingerprints… as a 73-year-old Rumanian immigrant who’s traveled around the globe leaving a trail of aliases and unexplained killings. But as Kolchak continues questioning witnesses and poring over volumes of supernatural lore provided by Gail, he starts to suspect that the murders are the work not of “some screwball who imagines he’s a vampire,” but an actual vampire.
The man who rants about “facts” can’t believe it, but all of his research and evidence indicates as such and so do his own eyes once he witnesses the supposed senior-citizen hospitalize a half-dozen cops and flee into the night after a poolside melee. Law enforcement initially scorns the reporter’s theory, but eventually asks him to help them track the killer… in exchange for exclusive story rights, of course the journalist instructs them on the finer points of silver crosses and wooden stakes, alerts them to the vampire’s very vampire but very un-Vegas residence in a turreted Victorian mansion and, when he arrives early to get the scoop, winds up dispatching the creature himself.
However, instead of being able to revel in the reception of the story that would make his career. Kolchak is summoned by the chief of police and told it will never be published — it would make the cops look incompetent, the government looks silly, and it’ll drive away tourists. Gail has already left town and, if he doesn’t get out too, he’ll be arrested for murder. And so the story comes full circle, back to the rumpled bedding and half-light of the motel where Kolchak clicks the “off” button on his incredible tale.
The offices where Kolchak attends police press conferences and hassles the D.A. is located in what is now the Mob Museum. ABC Circle Films. ABC/Disney
“First and foremost, The Night Stalker (and the sequel and subsequent TV series) were meant to be pure popcorn thrill rides. Both the producer Dan Curtis and screenwriter Richard Matheson loved working in the realm of TV because they liked the less-is-more approach,” says Amanda Reyes, author and film historian. She adds, “Inevitably, that meant that they rested on a thickly gothic ambiance, which was sort of in contrast to the bright lights of Las Vegas – that kind of contrast of aesthetics was jarring and distinctive. Also, it was humorous. Thinking of a vampire walking through streets that are as bright as day was funny… and a little scary too.”
The locations are a time capsule of early 1970s Vegas. As Kolchak drives around the city, ferreting information out of cocktail waitresses, coroners, and compulsive gamblers, one can bask in the shimmer of vintage Strip footage. The gorgeous neon signs of long-gone legendary spots like the Sands and the Pussycat-A-Go-Go glow, along with glimpses of the El Moroccos Motel before it was swallowed up by the Convention Center, the Bonanza Gift Shop when it was still the Big Wheel Casino, and Caesars Palace when it had Paul Anka and Joey Heatherton headlining and was about a fifth of the size it is now.
As always, a few locations cling to their coordinates on the map, but most have disappeared. The vampire strolls about the Sahara Casino, eyeing victims outside of the Casbah Theatre. The offices where Kolchak attends police press conferences and hassles the D.A. are located in what is now the Mob Museum — the interior is likely a Burbank set, but he dashes down the same steps that museum visitors walk up.
The offices where Kolchak attends police press conferences and hassles the D.A. is located in what is now the Mob Museum. ABC Circle Films. ABC/Disney
However, the aqua-accessorized, breeze-blocked pool at the Dunes where Kolchak tries to get information out of the city’s PR flack is now the Bellagio parking garage, while a Strip used car lot where he questions the guy who sold the vampire a sedan is now the site of a Walgreens. At one point, a police radio refers to tracking the vampire to “Hustles and Okay,” which is amusing in that they went to the trouble to find a fairly obscure local intersection, but didn’t bother to find out how to pronounce ”Houssels” or “Oakey” correctly.
“While the vampire running loose in Las Vegas is an outrageous fantasy (right…?)The Night Stalker gets a lot right about the city’s reality. The first victim’s 3 a.m. walk home from a late shift, with its street hassling under the lights of the Fremont Casino marquee and purse-strap-clutching duck around a dark corner are experiences local ladies know in their bones. Kolchak’s peripatetic work history, a series of fuckups and failures that lands him in Sin City would feel familiar more than one real-like resident of Las Vegas, as is Gail’s “not quite sure what she does” employment status. And, of course, Kolchak’s certainty that he’s finally hit the story jackpot only to have the house win is nothing if not the spirit of Las Vegas.”
The movie was extremely successful, drawing 33 million viewers — the biggest audience for a TV movie up to that time — so naturally there was a sequel. The Night Strangler found Kolchak in Seattle, once again working for a newspaper and investigating the murders of a series of young women. This time he discovers that a doctor from the Civil War era has been using alchemy to create a life-extending elixir and the blood of young belly dancers is a chief ingredient.
While the location shooting in Seattle didn’t have the same visual impact and sense of place that The Night Stalker’s Las Vegas setting did, it managed a few evocative moments. The city’s “Underground”— a few square blocks of 19th-century city that still exist below the modern streets — made for an appropriate lair for the villain as well as a great setting for the climactic chase. Margaret Hamilton lends her Wicked Witch of the West cred as a sharp-tongued history professor, while ex-Dracula John Carradine plays an imperious newspaper publisher. Like its predecessor, The Night Strangler drew praise from viewers and critics and, most essentially, again pulled major ratings. There had been talk of a third movie, but the decision was made to go for the big money and turn Kolchak into a series.
The first victim (that we know of) walking home from Fremont Street. ABC Circle Films. ABC/Disney
A new episode every week meant a new menace every week, as Kolchak: The Night Stalker featured the intrepid reporter on the trail of ghosts, aliens and all manner of monsters. Kolchak’s employer was now the I.N.S. aka International News Service, housed in an office that was straight out of a 40s film with oversized wood desks, frosted globe lights and the El Train rattling past the Venetian-blinded windows. Perennially aggrieved editor Tony Vincenzo was back in charge, the reporting staff rounded out by tetchy, three-piece suit-clad society columnist Ron Updyke and “office mother and author of joke of the week columns”/ unexpected “gray panther” activist Miss Emily, both foils for the crass, cranky Kolchak.
Vincenzo and Kolchak’s mutual affectionate contempt was the closest thing to a personal relationship that the reporter had. After his girlfriend disappeared at the end of the first movie, never to be mentioned again, Kolchak had no life outside his job. He had no weighty backstory, and no character arc. He had no family, no friends, no regular hangouts, not even a home beyond his battered yellow Mustang convertible. Perhaps it was because there just wasn’t room for extra plotlines, but there was also the sense that Carl Kolchak had no room in his life for anything but his work.
Like the movies, the show featured a rogue gallery of interesting characters played by two generations of character actors — Phil Silvers as a wisecracking informant and Carolyn Jones as a nosy university registrar, Tom Bosley as an anxious executive and Jamie Farr as a cranky schoolteacher. And along with three generations of established talents, Kolchak presented several rising stars. Erik Estrada appeared as a grocery store bagger-turned-millionaire playboy-turned-Aztec sacrifice wearing a giant feathered ritual headdress with the insouciance of a Vegas showgirl. Tom Skeritt played a young senatorial candidate whose surface is part JFK/part Magnum P.I. but whose soul is wholly owned by Satan in an episode that neatly predicted 1976’s film, The Omen down to the possessed Rottweiler…
Inspiration for the series’ bestiary came from a variety of sources, some taken from classic film or literature, others drawn from history or folklore and some fully fantasized from the writers' imagination. Launce Rake, a former Las Vegas reporter and at present an employee of a federal disaster-response agency, recalls being fascinated by the show and its creatures. “I knew it was cool. It referenced all the Old Gods but always maintained a sense of humor,” he says. “It was what I would come to learn was ‘post-modern’ in its hip references to past horror tropes.”
“The Zombie” was about a young man whose grandmother resurrects him to wreak vengeance upon his killers; the Black vs. Italian gangs subplot was straight out of Across 110th Street, while the “woman summons zombie to get revenge on the gangster who killed her loved one” was out of Sugar Hill. The blaxploitation vibe was made even stronger with appearances by Antonio Fargas and Scatman Crothers. The zombie’s “place of the dead” is not a cemetery but an auto graveyard; Kolchak and the creature hunt each other through piles of twisted metal beneath a full moon has as much gothic atmosphere as a Byronic hero and Shelleyan monster stalking about a ruined castle.
It wasn't the only episode whose premise seemed to be inspired by the plotlines of contemporary films. “The Trevi Collection” is about a witch knocking off her rivals at a fashion house — a hybrid of the ballet school coven classic Suspiria and Dario Argento’s haute couture Giallo, Blood and Black Lace. A publicity-hungry young model draws Kolchak into investigating a murder at a fashion show… Nina Foch (of An American in Paris and Spartacus) brings old movie star cred as a couturier who may or may not lead a coven. With murderous mannequins, public denunciations, and a drowning trial in a vat of dye, it had enough plot twists and world-building, for a feature-length film, crammed into an hour of television minus nine minutes for commercials and station breaks.
Carl Kolchak in his signature porkpie hat. ABC Circle Films. ABC/Disney
Some episodes were based on legends created in the writers’ room. “The Knightly Murders” concerned a black plate-clad medieval warrior who dispatches his victims with an array of medieval weaponry such as crossbows, lances and maces — it’s enraged that the museum where its spirit dwells is being turned into a discotheque. Childhood fears inspired “The Spanish Moss Murders,” which is about a version of the rougarou, a bogeyman of the Louisiana bayous that seems to be emerging from the dreams of a fiddle player who’s part of a sleep experiment. Kolchak’s investigation has him shifting between the worlds of overeducated research scientists and underpaid itinerant musicians, his persistent questions and brusque manner invoking the suspicion and snobbery of both.
“Horror in the Heights” was one of the show’s best takes on a folk legend as well as one of its strongest episodes. In a predominantly Jewish neighborhood that has seen better times, senior citizens are dying. The authorities dismiss it as natural causes, albeit “eaten by rats” but when painted swastikas begin appearing on walls and the number of deaths accelerate, Kolchak senses something more to the story. One elderly gentleman brushes off the graffiti as “Kids. Kids don’t just go around killing people” before turning down an alleyway he won’t emerge from.
It turns out that the swastikas are drawn by an elderly Indian as good luck symbols to keep away the beast that is attacking the residents — which is not a gang of Nazis, but a Rakshasa, a beast that considers human flesh to be the equivalent of a Kobe or Wagyu. The Rakshasha entraps its victims by appearing in the guise of whoever that person trusts the most — policeman, rabbi, parent, or friend. If two people see the monster at once, it can even appear in two different guises simultaneously, as in, “Whaddya you mean, that’s your mother? That’s Sergeant DeVito!” Once the prey draws close enough to grab, the Rakshasha literally devours them.
Kolchak believes he is impervious to the monster because, as a bone-deep cynic, he insists, “there isn’t anyone that I trust.” Of course, he discovers that there is someone he apparently trusts… but fortunately not enough to keep him from firing a holy crossbow bolt into the Rakshasa wearing their guise. The terror in “Horror in the Heights” may have been a mythical South Asian bogeyman, but it also touched on other fears that are unfortunately all too real: racism, anti-Semitism, gentrification, classism, the discrimination against/economic difficulties of seniors. When I first watched Kolchak: The Night Stalker as a kid, this was the story that stuck with me — the idea that someone you trust could literally devour you, the question of whether you could kill something that looked like someone you loved… little did I know that these were probably the most benign of the episode’s terrors.
"Rather like a werewolf when hit by a silver bullet or a vampire struck by the light of day, Kolchak: The Night Stalker came to a sudden end. The series’ ratings had always lagged far behind the stellar ones of the movies. Also, star Darren McGavin had taken on the duties of an executive producer without receiving the credit or the money and was tired of rewriting scripts and fussing about sets on what he was beginning to dismiss as a “monster of the week” show. When he asked to be released from the show with two episodes left in the season, that was the end of Kolchak.”
Or was it? The Kolchak: The Night Stalker series gave Academy Award-winning director Robert Zemeckis and Sopranos creator David Chase their starts in the biz. And the creatives of the future weren’t just on the Kolchak set — they were also in the audience as the show headed into reruns. Chris Carter has frequently cited Kolchak as one of the chief inspirations behind The X-Files and even asked Darren McGavin to appear as Kolchak in The X-Files and, while McGavin was happy to appear on the show, he did not want to revisit the character. Thus, while his role was indeed as “the father of the X-Files” who had cracked the first case, the name was “Arthur Dales,” not “Carl Kolchak.”
Kolchak has a poolside chat to ask for help sourcing information about a serial killer he suspects is pretending to be a vampire.
It was inevitable that the show would be rebooted and so it was in 2005. Kolchak was no longer a crusty, middle-aged reporter on the slide with no life outside his job, but a handsome thirty-ish journo grieving the murder of his wife and seeking her killer. The roster of eccentric characters Kolchak encounters in his pursuit of the story were largely cut out to make room to develop his personal issues and those supporting roles that remained were filled not by veteran character actors but by younger, conventionally attractive performers. The new Kolchak’s camera-readiness and emotional availability, as well as the extended story arc, suited 21st-century television storytelling, but they were entirely contrary to the originals’ mojo. Kolchak 2.0 was canceled halfway through the first season.
About a decade ago, Johnny Depp was in talks to revive the character for a Disney-produced movie, but it went nowhere. The focus now seems to be on celebrating the original series, which recently enjoyed its fiftieth anniversary. Respecting what was gotten right the first time…what a novel idea.
“One thing that’s seldom considered is that Kolchak, despite being a middle-aged guy of no great size in no great shape, was an absolute tank when it came to dispatching supernatural beings. At the conclusion of every show, whatever the creature, Kolchak mercilessly dispatched that motherfucker to whence it came.”
Yet he was never painted as a warrior, but rather just trying to save his ass. In the course of his investigations, some research librarian or restaurant fortuneteller would explain to him how to dispatch the nightmare in question; Kolchak would dutifully pack the white candles and salt or holy water and silver bullets in a brown paper bag and trudge off to take care of business with the frightened yet beleaguered air of a man facing an exceptionally rough day at work. He never wanted to be part of the story, he simply wanted to tell it, with the byline being the only place his name appeared.
But, for every victory, there was a defeat: Like the monsters, the stories were usually killed. Sometimes due to ruined film or sabotaged tape recordings, more often because of nervous bureaucrats or angry politicos, Kolchak’s stories of the supernatural threats lurking in our everyday lives would never see the light of day or feel the printing press’ ink. “All my life! All my life I’ve waited for a story like this and now I can’t get it printed!” Kolchak lamented in his first movie and the anguished cry would carry through, as essential to the character as his battered hat.
“When you think about how Kolchak goes up against a corrupt government, I think a lot of people related to the growing distrust in authority figures,” explains Reyes. “That the [first] film predates Nixon’s Watergate scandal.” That’s where we were at that time in the United States. And, to have Kolchak ultimately lose everything was probably also relatable. It’s like we felt we couldn’t make a stance or a change without punishment, but we could feel the dissatisfaction growing.”
Kolchak driving past the iconic signs for the Morocco and Stardust. ABC Circle Film/Disney.
Despite the show’s cynical take — or perhaps because of it — Kolchak has long been a favorite of journalists and writers in general. Barton acknowledges that the show may have “possibly planted a seed of what's become a 35-year career as a journalist. I can also say that after 25 of those years as an editor, I appreciate what Kolchak's editor had to go through. ‘Vampires? Zombies? Ghosts? Rakshasas? None of this is covered in the AP Stylebook!’" He adds that he’s never encountered anything otherworldly while covering a story, “unless you count the experience of your soul leaving your body somewhere during hour three of a school board meeting,” he says.
"And Rake notes that Kolchak has influenced his “stylistic preferences,” saying, ‘I will always be a fan of the seersucker suits I first saw Darren McGavin wearing as the Kolchak character. I've worn a few myself.’”
Veteran investigative reporter and radio host George Knapp recalls that he first watched The Night Stalker movie as a college freshman. “I had no idea at the time of that broadcast that I would one day live in Las Vegas. I had no idea that, like Kolchak, I would have a career in journalism,” he recalls. “ And yet, seven years after Kolchak tracked down that vampire in Las Vegas, I moved to Nevada and landed a job in television, By the late 80s, I started chasing seemingly preposterous Kolchak-worthy stories about aliens and flying saucers, and like Kolchak, I slammed into a buzzsaw of doubt and ridicule from fellow journalists and assorted public officials.” He notes that now “stories about crashed saucers, dead aliens, and deep dark secrets” are being covered by mainstream news organizations, adding, “Kolchak would get a kick out of how things worked out.”
While I can’t specifically say that my childhood viewings of Kolchak: The Night Stalker reruns inspired me to a journalistic career, he likely did have an influence. Even without the zombies, the vampires, and the aliens, Kolchak still met lots of unusual people and found out all manner of interesting information. I recall that appealed to me, as did the amount of time he seemed to spend wandering around alone at night, taking on whatever came out of the shadows with more curiosity than fear.
Lissa Townsend Rodgers is a native of New York City who has lived in Las Vegas for two decades. She has worked as a journalist in both cities for publications including New York Magazine, Food & Wine, Desert Companion, Vegas Seven and Culture Trip. She has given lectures and appeared on panels at the Mob Museum and the Clark County Library. Her book, Shameless: Women of the Underworld, is a series of biographies of gangster ladies that recently came out on Huntington Press.
