Whenever people ask me how I got into the newspaper business, I want to say that I was inspired by Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, the famous Washington Post reporters who broke the story of Watergate.

But the truth is it was Dustin Hoffman and Robert Redford, the hunky actors who played those journalists in the movie "All the President's Men."

I was 16 when that film came out in 1976, and I went to see it 14 times. That's 14 times before the invention of home videos.

I was gripped by those pen-toting reporters, defending democracy like a couple of superheroes, with nothing but electric typewriters and a passion for the written word.

Notebooks stuffed into their back pockets, and cigarette smoke streaming through their perfect hair, they dashed through the newsroom and tussled with sources over the telephone, and I knew that's what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

I wasn't the only one they inspired, either. Journalism schools across the country saw their enrollments swell because of that movie, the same way the TV show "CSI" has kids flocking into forensics right now.

So, when the special 30th-anniversary DVD of "All the President's Men" came out recently, I bought it, took it home, and watched.

Redford looks young and beautiful — his golden retriever hair, his strong jaw. Hoffman is intense and jittery in an oh, so appealing way. And the story itself holds up fine, which, of course, it should, seeing as how it was one of the finest moments in American journalism.

But there are a lot of things about the film that feel tragically dated.

There's not a single computer in the newsroom. The telephones are rotary. And, above all, there is an overwhelming, almost naive sense that newspapers actually matter.

Who knew so much would change in 30 short years?

I don't have to tell you, these are troubling times for newspapers in America, and unsettling times for my newspaper, the Philadelphia Inquirer, in particular.

The Internet has stolen young readers, and Web sites like Craig's List have made classified ads almost obsolete.

Wall Street detests the midlevel profits that newspapers pull in, so it demands budget cuts, and layoffs, and corporate takeovers. As a result of last week's sale of Knight Ridder, the staffs of both the Philadelphia Daily News and the Inquirer have found themselves floating in professional limbo.

Back when I graduated from journalism school, 25 years ago, nobody ever could have convinced me that I might become the last generation of daily journalists working in newsprint.

But the world is a different place now.

People want their news fast and short. They want it to fit on the screens of their cell phones. They want to know if Angelina is going to marry Brad, and who is wining "American Idol."

For someone like me, that makes watching "All the President's Men" not just nostalgic, but bittersweet.

I'd like to think newspapers are not a thing of the past. But, I wonder, who are they inspiring now?

Tanya Barrientos is a columnist for the Philadelphia Inquirer.