Vibe is an overused word I try to avoid using, but it is a proper shorthand for the immaculate feel of Donohue’s. Its martinis come with a sidecar of more martini, often made by Johnny, the bartender whose last name is unknown to most of the patrons, even the regulars. It has a menu that feels unchanged from its birth year, with ham that comes with a slice of pineapple, and it often has scrod as a special, written on chalkboard. There is a black landline that is, oddly, frequently in use and an electric calculator used to tally up bills. The floor is checkerboard and the paper place mats inform patrons that they are open for lunch, dinner, and supper. Outside, below the gold script Donohue’s sign, there is a small glass box window that looks onto the street and is lavishly decorated for nearly every federal holiday.