Captains of industry could gird the country in railroad, etc, because they were able to comfortably collude in opulent cigar dens -- no one ever industrialized the nation from a hookah bar. Light up like a robber baron, at the Johnson Club Room.
Open to both members and day-passers, JCR's a private puffer's haven located underneath Nat Sherman -- tobaccanists "since 1930", back when the cure for cancer was "walking it off". Step into Nat's elevator, and descend into a dimly-lit, slate-floored lounge stocked with premium liquor and plush chairs/sofas; adjoining is a wood-paneled, climate-controlled room honeycombed with rentable humidors, each holding up to 300 cigars, a few already reserved for luminaries like Joe Torre, Robert Downey, Jr, and SPARTAAA!!!! Roll down with anything from Sherman's stash: from Padron Anniversario, to Macanudo Vintage, to private label blends made special for Nat by venerable Caribbean cigar-making families -- whose decision to stick with their ancestral vocation was confirmed when all the Pirates roles went to skinny men in eyeliner, and octopi.
Even without so much as a day-pass, you can still take advantage of JCR's daily continental breakfast (smoke & eggs), and its rentable, teleconference-equipped meeting room, where you can partake of that most baronesque of prerogatives: gesturing lewdly with your cigar while on handsfree mute.