February 4, 1966 was a day just like any other day to Jim Bishop, reporter, but for one fact. Today unto him a book was born. Bishop was happy but not excited. This was after all his sixteenth book. Just recently he had published his honeymoon diary, an intimate travel book that seemed to have been hastily typed on his lap between cities. Bishop is terse. His stock-in-trade is the present instant. He usually gets close enough to his subjects to play pat-a-cake. In his new book Bishop would be mixing it up with Presidents and Popes, entertainers, rapists and reporters. Thirty-five years at the game, Bishop never rewrites. The story lies where it drops. Still, the present is not really sufficient territory for Bishop. On occasion he has had the temerity to cover the Nativity in Bethlehem. In the balcony in Ford's theater, he stood about four feet closer to Lincoln than Booth got. Bishop enjoys dishing up the Instant Past, but takes most pride in fulfilling himself as a reporter's reporter. His longest story in his new sheaf was in his best ""the night that style and covered the night that Marine D.I. Sgt. Matthew McKeon led his charges into the swamps of Parris Island and several drowned. He covers the race problem, odd characters, human interest incidents, and even does a portrait of his own family...As Bishop thumbed his new baby, he pondered two questions: Had Capote moved in on ""the method""? And what had Kirkus meant by the phrase ""The story lies where it drops""?