"Ever since I was a busboy at the General Wayne Inn, I wanted to make a place where a community could feel happy," says Hunter. "Not so much about serving alcohol and getting people to drink. But having a place that becomes special, a pillar."

A lofty notion should come with a lofty new name, Raven, and with lofty quotes painted onto its upstairs walls, where during several weeknights the smallish room hosts open mics on its tiny stage. This live vibe makes the upstairs vibrant with its habitués nestled on big velvet sofas and suede ottomans.

Downstairs, the bright red walls are offset by dim lighting and a glow that emanates from an overhead skylight. Groups of necktie-and-Izod types have several options depending on the night: They can sit against the opera-windowed front and watch muscle-bound sports on big plasma TVs, or they can enter the backroom and talk to a tarot card reader or play vintage Atari.

Late into the night, people wander in from neighboring hotels like Sofitel or restaurants like Brasserie Perrier, looking, perhaps, to get their Poe on. Evermore.