Shaking down the rich and famous to keep them out of the gossip pages has long been part of the dirty world of gossip: In the early 1920s, the publisher of New York's Broadway Brevities and Social Gossip got six years in jail for extorting money from railroad kingpin W. Averell Harriman and banker Otto Kahn, among others.

	Gossip columnist Walter Winchell fell from favor after supporting Sen. Joe McCarthy. Click photo for larger image.

That a reporter from the New York Post -- which helped revive America's obsession with celebrity and gossip three decades ago -- is facing similar charges should not be a surprise. Gossip is by its nature a scandalous thing and so is the Post, the rough-and-tumble paper whose very founder, Alexander Hamilton, was shot to death in a duel 202 years ago.

A writer for the Post's "Page Six" gossip column, Jared Paul Stern, is facing allegations that he shook down billionaire investor Ron Burkle (a part owner of the Penguins) for more than $200,000 in "protection" money to keep false stories about him out of the newspaper.

If the accusation proves true, Stern, besides facing criminal charges, may have committed one of journalism's cardinal sins: making himself bigger than the story. That kind of hubris seems fitting, since the same thing happened to Walter Winchell, the creator of the modern gossip column and the forefather to Page Six celebrity journalism.

The New York Post gossip writer Jared Paul Stern is accused of trying to extort $200,000 from a billionaire in exchange for positive coverage. Click photo for larger image.

As historian Neal Gabler notes in "Winchell: Gossip, Power and the Culture of Celebrity" (Knopf, 1994), the American "penny press" of the early 19th century carried news of family scandals, as did small-circulation "yellow sheets" such as Broadway Brevities and Town Topics decades later.

At mainstream newspapers, editors for years kept a lid on salacious material, until the debut of Winchell's New York Graphic column in 1925. He talked openly about sexual peccadilloes, drinking problems and other secrets.

As Gabler notes, Winchell "not only broke long-standing taboo; he suddenly and single-handedly expanded the purview of American journalism forever."

Journalism's old guard hated it, but Winchell became too big to stop. In 1932, the editor of Editor & Publisher, Marlen Pew, called his columns "borrowed from gigolo society" and "a dirty business." In his punchy style, Winchell, Gabler says, referred to him as "Peeyew" and took "frequent, gratuitous shots" at his critic.

	Hedda Hopper's column made her a star. Click photo for larger image.

Gossip reporting went on to make stars of New York's Ed Sullivan (a columnist long before he was a TV show host) and, in Hollywood, Hedda Hopper and Louella Parsons (who began writing columns in 1914). The tradition continued through many other celebrity columnists, such as the Post's Liz Smith, the late Irv Kupcinet of the Chicago Sun-Times and the San Francisco Chronicle's late Herb Caen.

By the 1970s, after the Vietnam War and the Watergate scandal, American newspapers were back in a hard news phase and Winchell-style celebrity dirt-slinging had retreated. Then in came Rupert Murdoch, publisher of London tabloid The Sun, who introduced Page Six the same week he took over the New York Post in 1976.

Along with Hollywood stars, the column covered rich and powerful Wall Street financiers, media dons and music promoters, making stars out of people like Donald Trump and the owners of Studio 54. Just like Winchell, Page Six helped resuscitate gossip reporting and clear the way for the glossy celebrity magazines that dominate today.

Page Six was "a meaner brand of gossip, and more personal," wrote Post reporter Steven Cuozzo in 1996's "It's Alive," a modern history of the paper.

The newspaper also used Page Six to settle scores. The column, Cuozzo wrote, "served a function not unlike that of nuclear aircraft carriers in the U.S. Navy: to intimidate Third World nuisances."

Winchell did much the same thing with his powerful gossip column, only for it to backfire in the 1950s for his public support of U.S. Sen. Joe McCarthy's red-baiting campaigns. His power faded and only his daughter, Walda, attended his 1972 funeral.

In some ways, ethical lapses at the gossip columns come with the territory, said Adrienne Drell, a former Sun-Times reporter and a journalism professor at Northwestern University.

"Gossip columnists have to come up with news and need to be supplied it, and how do you get it supplied but by having ins with people? One of the ways you get it is by doing favors," she said -- favors are that not disclosed to newspaper readers.

The columnists also have outsized power, due to gossip's popularity, which can tempt them down the unethical path.

"Information is money, and so is prominence and placement -- not merit -- and that's the problem," said Drell. "We live in an era that exalts celebdom, and maybe if you're desperate enough, you'll pay for it."

Or, if celebrities are desperate for privacy, there's evidently a good chance they'll pay for that, too.