Whatever happened to truth in titling? No exposâ€š this; it's more of a catchall, with no direction and little of interest. We begin by touting the National Press Club, as Hoyt impresses us with the ""endless and amazing"" list of important people who have had offices in the building (he cites one FDR ghost-writer) and the number of Presidents who--not surprisingly--have stopped by. He reminisces about colorful habituâ€šs whose names ""still come up at the Press Club bar"" (Lyle Wilson, anyone?). For the rest, he surveys the Washington media with familiar descriptions of Jack Anderson, Ben Bradlee, et al. There is precious little about drinking (Bob Considine is mentioned as one of the greats), and nothing very titillating about anything else (James Reston--""one of the worst male chauvinists""--once offered to hire Mary McGrory if she would learn the switchboard.) A dry run except for those present.