Profile

The old neon sign out front speaks of unforgiving Times Square like that in 1957’s Sweet Smell of Success: a town where anything can happen and, overnight, successes and failures are made. But this ain’t the 21 Club. Even the snappy bartenders in shirt and ties look like relics from a black-and-white photograph, and the harsh lighting betrays their age. And just like the good old days, they start pouring the rye at 7 a.m. without glancing sideways; after all, sometimes the kindest thing this town can give you is a stiff drink. — Carla Spartos