I worked at the Inquirer building for 30 years, and I loved it. In the old days, when it really felt like a newspaper, you could stand in a glass-walled passageway overlooking the cavernous composing room and watch the papers speed off the giant presses. It gave me goose bumps every time.
When the presses were cranking up, the whole building shook. The ink-stained pressmen—yes, they were all men—wore folded newspaper caps. It was right out of The Front Page. The pressmen left when print operations moved to Conshohocken. The composing room was rebuilt into a giant newsroom for the Inky.
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