Canadian politics is replete with real and alleged scandal. The latest alleged scandal was the CBC Disclosure item that seemed to be implying that Paul Martin, while minister of finance, knew of all the dealings of his Canada Steamship Lines ships though they were being held in a blind trust.

The Disclosure item was brisk, fast and efficient. Its intended aim seemed to be the toppling of Paul Martin in one fell swoop; its clear hope was that enormous public reaction would keep the Martin-CSL story alive for a long, long time.

It didn't happen. Instead, neither the public nor the media responded to the item. The public and media simply felt that Martin had been caught in a fiendish media morality play of no substance. The net result was a wave of public sympathy for Paul Martin.

The media sat on the Martin story for years. In media circles, nervous jokes about Martin's navy were common. But the media sat on Martin's navy story because they accepted there was really nothing to it but innuendo, revisionism run amok and idle, bizarre speculation.

The media also sat on the story because they knew that, above anything else, Paul Martin was an honest and dedicated businessman, and a first-class politician from day one of his entry into politics. Integrity, complete solid integrity, both in business and in politics, was the Paul Martin trademark.

There was also a kind of journalistic snobbery in the handling of Martin. His sin seemed to be that he was rich and, like all rich men, kept a keen and constant eye on his possessions. The implication was that the journalists doing the CSL story were fairer and more objective on Martin simply because they were God-fearing, fearless journalists and seekers of truth.

This journalistic snobbery is a recent trait in Canadian politics. Wealthy men and wealthy politicians have been with us for decades. Take R.B. Bennett, the Tory prime minister of Canada from 1930 to 1935. He was the proud owner of the E.B. Eddy Match Company in Ottawa. Every Canadian lighting a match in Canada owed something to Bennett. Mitch Hepburn, the jovial imbibing Liberal premier of Ontario, got a lot of laughs – and a lot of votes – when he dubbed Bennett "Lord Match Box."

Arthur Meighen, twice a Tory prime minister, was a man of great wealth. His word was his bond. King's minister of finance, Charles Dunning, was a grain trade giant before he took on the finance portfolio. No one ever questioned the integrity of these men; no one asked Dunning to step aside when wheat sales were discussed in Parliament.

Actually the only politician affected by a serious conflict in modern times was Mackenzie King, and he was in Opposition at the time. (The media played very little role and essentially sat on that story as well. It was a House committee that broke it.)

The Liberal government had given concessions to Quebec's Beauharnois Power – a large Liberal party contributor – when King was prime minister. King's Beauharnois business friends were all named in the inquiry. It turned out they were even paying his laundry bills. King then issued his famous "valley of humiliation" speech.

The irony here was that King recovered to win the election of 1935 on the slogan "King or Chaos." Chaos was R.B. Bennett.

In those days the press sat on stories out of respect and admiration for politicians' integrity and honesty; the press always gave politicians the benefit of the doubt. The press has also sat on some interesting stories in more modern times.

For example, the press knew all about the Gerda Munsinger-Pierre Sevigny relationship, but accepted Diefenbaker's view that Sevigny as cabinet minister hadn't compromised the government, even though Munsinger had been dubbed a security risk by the RCMP.

Years later, when a Liberal minister, angry at Conservative accusations of security lapses, asked Diefenbaker "What about Munsinger?" the press jumped in right away. I was dispatched on a labour of love to Sevigny's door. My reward was a caning that outraged the nation's moral fibre.

When no one could find corrupt labour chieftain Hal Banks (except Robert Reguly of the Toronto Star), I got the first footage of Banks for This Hour Has Seven Days. Labour reporters knew where Banks was and sat on the story because Canadian labour leaders wanted it that way. Having worked in labour, I knew that Banks, a fugitive, had a Brooklyn phone number publicly listed. I was right. I found his number easily.

Perhaps we can take solace that the media sat on the John Manley leadership bid for such a long, long time. Now that he's in the leadership race there will be tons of stories and very few indeed will be sat on. One can only hope.