Should he follow the sound of the drums?<br > He could hear it all beginning again: the nervous rattle of<br > practicing drums， the shuffle that precedes the parade. The sound<br > was almost irresistible， because in American politics it is when the<br > parade is falling in that it is most exciting. He had followed those<br > sounds for twenty years， across the country and back， again and<br > again， and up with the crescendo to the conventions， on through the<br > rallies with pretty girls in shakos and pompoms kicking in town<br > squares and crowds yelling in big-city arenas until， suddenly on a<br > November night， there would be a new President.<br > There is no excitement anywhere in the world， short of war， to<br >match the excitement of an American Presidential campaign. He<br >had loved that excitement and had made it his profession to be a<br >storyteller of elections. Yet as summer faded in i975 and the<br >campaign for the Presidency reached speed， the more stories he<br >gathered， the more confused he became.<br > Was there more to learn in one more story of the making of a<br >President? There was something new in what Americans sought as<br >they passed on their power--but how to define it? The excitement of<br >the campaign was still there， but not the clarity that once gave the<br >pattern of history to his stories.<br > Nor was there ever more than momentary escape from this<br >confusion， behind any barricade. He would come back from his<br >forays into the insane parade of the 1976 primaries with a sense of<br >relief. For a few days， his office would be again， as it used to be， his<br >cave. There were always chores at the office， and the mail to be<br >answered---distractions he welcomed.<br >