I sat at the bar with a row of local reporters, feeling the outsider with a capital OUT. At this point in my life I could barely afford a double scotch. There I was, however, and I sought out the Seattle Press Club as a last resort, my resumes and clippings under my arm. ![]() Heaven knows how I ended up in Seattle when I'd started out for New York from Las Vegas. Later, however, it came back to haunt me worse than any curse or poltergeist. If you are one of the fortunate few who stumbled upon an obscure paperback book with the tabloid-esque title The Night Strangler, don't worry: I didn't enter the following information into my notes, because at the time it held no significance for me. I've written about my hectic time in Seattle, Washington, elsewhere. The Kolchak Papers: A Stranger in a Bar THE KOLCHAK PAPERS: A STRANGER IN A BAR Michael D.
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