In the late 1950s in Baltimore, I was sent by my school newspaper to interview a famous opera star, a graduate of our school.

I had to take public transit to get to a point where her driver could meet me and take me to the singer's mansion. At the last stop, there was a huge sign that read in large print, "No Negroes, Jews, or Dogs." This was the moment I determined to try to change the world.

I had lots of company in the '60s - but by 1968, our heroes, Jack and Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr. had been murdered. Dark years were to follow, and then there was Watergate, where the heroes of our youth became Bob Woodward, Carl Bernstein, the Washington Post, and of course, Deep Throat.

But I had lots of growing up to do. I had to learn that those profiles in courage who most affect our world don't give a hoot about fame and fortune. I also had to see that those hungry for power, above all else, are able to keep their true selves hidden for a long time, even from themselves.

A case in point: my ex-hero, Bob Woodward, recently was all over the tube promoting his new book and treated like a messiah. Only Jon Stewart didn't act like he should kiss Woodward's ring. He introduced Woodward and Bernstein (who often accompanies Woodward as his second banana) as if they were a returning nostalgia act, like the Supremes.

Woodward has made millions via Deep Throat, and though he gave his solemn oath to Mark Felt that his identity would not be made public until after Felt's death, he broke his word when Vanity Fair revealed it.

The only ethical response to this story should have been: "A journalist keeps promises." Instead, his word broken, Woodward rushed his own book into print.

The true Mark Felt story is a pitiful one, and as a person who deals professionally in human motivation, I think I finally understand it. Previously a loyal FBI company man, Felt contacted Woodward when he became incensed that Richard Nixon did not choose him to replace J. Edgar Hoover. His commanding role in the book version of "All the President's Men" and subsequent film only happened when Bernstein and Woodward were told by their editor that their initial matter-of-fact draft wouldn't sell.

Felt was apparently so angry at Woodward for this portrayal that he didn't speak to him for years, and though he fell on very hard times - legally, financially, personally and medically - Woodward never contacted him.

By the time Woodward found the courage to reach out to Felt, his impairment was so great that he didn't even remember his role in the downfall of Richard Nixon. (Felt's daughter has made no secret that a prime motivation of the disclosure was "to pay the bills," especially for the education of her children.)

Reporters are not supposed to reveal the identities of sources or to pay them for information. But wouldn't it have been far more ethical and decent to discreetly set up trust funds for Felt's grandchildren than to break a promise to a broken man? Tom Hanks has bought movie rights to this story, and he's such a lovable guy and gifted actor that the real Felt probably won't be seen here, either.

I think there's also a message here for a more contemporary story. Hanks is so charming that he could even make weakling Time reporter Matt Cooper look like a mensch. Cooper wrote about the alleged outing of CIA operative Valerie Plame to get back at her husband for exposing the White House bunch as a bunch of liars who got us into a war by scaring us to death about uranium in Africa for weapons of mass destruction.

Cooper was so terrified of jail that he caved. Sure he had the rug pulled out from under him by his sell-out boss Norman Pearlstein, CEO of Time-Warner, who turned over Cooper's notes, and who should be hung by his toes till he apologizes for that.

But Cooper could have recovered from his ordeal with a book deal and speaking engagements. And both he and Woodward could have kept their integrity intact - as well as protected investigative reporting, and therefore the public - by keeping their professional word.

Here's the thing about true profiles in courage. They act with principle, even when it means sacrifice, because their honor is their life's promise.

SaraKay Smullens is a Philadelphia family therapist.