WOODWARD and Bernstein, just in case you are not aware, didn't have it all their own way.
The ceaseless search for the facts by those ace hacks led to the interruption of the American dream and the near impeachment of a president, Richard Nixon.
But without "Deep Throat" it would not have been possible. This was the dissident who didn't like what was happening in the Nixon White House when the president's chief of staff, H.R. Haldeman, and a key adviser, John Ehrlichman, ruled with an iron fist.
Not averse to bending the rules, they regularly helped to mangle them. "Deep Throat" had the inside track on what Nixon and his cronies were doing.
Around the Nixon presidency a strong sense of self survival was not necessarily a bad thing, and the Woodward and Bernstein informant certainly had that. Why wouldn't he, given that Nixon's Oval Room tape recording system was in full flow the moment anybody was ushered into his presence?
"Deep Throat" wasn't taking any chances. When he wished to speak to the reporters he did it by flower pot. A nice arrangement of something or other on his window ledge meant that he would have a message for the Washington Post that night - usually bringing them closer to the Nixon administration's complicity in the bugging of the Democratic Party offices in the Watergate Complex.
So what has this got to do with Southern Report? Well, it so happens that in the mid 1970s a person in Cork whose identity must never be revealed, neither for a pint of stout nor under the hot irons, came to The Irish Times with a story to tell. Not a flower arrangement in sight, this person wanted to spill the beans about the sad stated of a long established Cork company - Murphys Brewery.
The brewery was in serious trouble. The accounts were in a shambles, no one seemed to know what was actually going on; and up front nobody seemed to be taking responsibility. If this wasn't a flower pot on a ledge story as the crisis accelerated towards disaster, there never was one.
The informant began to come through documents showing the extent of the problem, documents from around the table in the inner sanctum, documents that were supposed to have been shredded. It was gripping stuff.
As the file in The Irish Times library began to grow fatter and fatter, a colleague on the newsdesk saw the connection. One day he asked, "What should we expect from `Deep Stout' today?"
Although the forces that descended on Nixon didn't quite come down on the Cork office of The Irish Times, there was a period during which officials of the company expressed an interest in knowing who "Deep Stout" was. Politely, it was pointed out that private detectives and bugging devices were easily obtained.
Cheques paid to pensioners of the company had started to bounce. Old hands, who had given a lifetime of service, found that a piece of paper with numbers written on it was no good. It was a scandal, and a scandal in a company that had been out of control for some time.
That was why "Deep Stout" got in touch with The Irish Times in the first place. Accountability had gone out of the window - ask any of the vintners in Dublin and Cork who put their own cash into the dying brewery in an attempt to save it.
To put it succinctly, by the time two prominent Cork publicans went to Amsterdam in 1982 to ask Heineken if it would take over the troubled Cork brewery things were in a mess and there wasn't much hope. Cheques were honoured, cheques were not honoured.
Morale was at an all time low. A receiver had been called in. Staff did not not know what to believe. "Deep Stout" felt he had a duty to bring the mess into the public domain, and risked a lot to get the information to this newspaper.
Later, he said that by publishing we were instrumental in saving the old Cork brewery, and getting the cheques of those pensioners paid.
In any event, that was all long ago. The same brewery today is unrecognisable. A disaster was averted and out of seeming chaos has come a great Irish/Dutch success story.
Put away the flower pots on the ledges. "Deep Stout" can rest easy now. The modern brewery has been rebuilt, to all practical purposes, and instead of low self esteem among the staff, insert upbeat confidence.
Heineken is a world player in the brewing business, and the Murphys Brewery part of that empire is more than holding its own. There's a proud welcome for visitors to the Lady's Well site, which has been humming these years to the sound of tills ringing out record returns.
Nowadays the company has only good news to report. Once it couldn't pay its pensioners. Now it has glossy brochures proclaiming that its staff in Cork has risen to 385 and that turnover grew last year by 12.4 per cent to a record £140 million.
The Heineken involvement has revitalised an old - and perhaps a decaying - brewery that after 130 years needed a leg up. No one working there today would complain that it happened.
But booze is big business. And nowhere more so than in Cork. Not far across town, Beamish & Crawford isn't looking for any favours either.
In 1994 B&C reported losses of £2 million. Last year the brewery, which employs 200 people, turned over £50 million and posted a profit of £1 million. And one of its proudest boasts is that Beamish stout - no matter where in the world you may drink it - is brewed in the South Main Street premises where the whole thing began in 1792.
Drink a pint of Guinness or Murphys in the UK and there is a sporting chance that it was not brewed in Ireland. But a pint of Beamish - that's a Cork pint.
In 1995 B&C was acquired by Scottish and Newcastle - now the largest brewing organisation in Britain. That move copper fastened the future of the Cork brewery.
Last year Beamish won the biennial brewing industry international award at Harrogate in England, being voted "Beast Stout in the World" by jurors from 16 countries.
And then there's Irish Distillers, with before tax profits last year of £49.2 million on a turnover of £616 million. The old distillery complex in Midleton is a one of the most unusual industrial archaeology sites in the Republic.
Its main product - Jameson - takes the honour of having achieved the highest whiskey - growth rate in the worlds 17.6 per cent a year.
Nowadays a tourist attraction, the complex dates back to 1796. Last year, for the first time, one million cases of Jameson whiskey were produced at the distillery - mainly for export. Employing 125 people, it is one of Ireland's export successes and has carved out an enviable reputation.
The Jameson Heritage Centre is a must on the tourist map of east Cork and is a fine testament to the skill of Irish craftsmen.