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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 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 early (8am every day); after all, sometimes the kindest thing this town can give you is a stiff drink. — Carla Spartos