With a twist of the wrist and a yank of the wrench, Allan Godshall wrangles out another rusty screw. He peels the sheet of metal bars away from the large window that faces 12th Street. It reveals what lies inside Neon's Bar in Over-the-Rhine:

A long, beautiful bar and shiny rows of bottles.

Bright beer signs that glow in the night with "Burger on tap" and "Guinness Draught."

Hope.

The thick metal grill that sheathed the windows was installed during April 2001's riots. They've since imposed themselves on the place, standing like rusted armor in front of Neon's - protecting the bar from the city, from the street, from the people.

New owner Godshall, 26, didn't like that.

"A bar with bars on its windows is a little uninviting," he said. "It reinforces the fear about downtown."

Godshall loves Cincinnati.

"There's no other entertainment district in the city that has as many bars and the variety of places that downtown has," he said. "That's the thing I love about it."

For him, the Main Street bar district is the sound of rock music wafting into the steamy summer air. It's the sinking of a pool ball into a pocket with a solid thud. The energy that rises as giddy people travel in packs from one hot spot to another.

"It blows me away how scared some people are of the heart of a city," he said.

Jamey Molloy says Godshall's decision shows his appreciation for the customers.

"Before, it looked like we were afraid to have people here," the Walnut Hills resident said while moving the panels of metal from the window to a storage area.

Tony Brooks, 41, who lives in Over-the-Rhine, said he does not feel anxious about the district after dark.

"Now police are patrolling the streets a little more. The city is looking for a change," he said. "We have the men in blue down here, and the message is getting out."

Brooks sees this all from his window. It's a different crowd in OTR now. Younger. More professional. More eager to see and be seen than to delve into trouble.

"More people are coming through here now," Brooks said. "They're just looking for a nice time. Have a drink. Enjoy some nice bands."

The numbers bear out his observations. Police say crime is down this year in the inner city.

I've been living in Cincinnati for eight months. I read about the riots in a newspaper, from the comfort of a living room far away. Downtown seemed a scary, gritty place.

My friends joked that I would need to tote a bulletproof vest, possibly some tear gas, along with my going-out gear of lip gloss and cab fare.

That couldn't be further from the truth.

I now love the lively undercurrent that thrives downtown, especially the downtown that exists long after the sun sets. The bright, looming buildings. The artwork, furniture and knickknacks that glimmer from quiet storefronts. The groups of stunning people who dress with a sophisticated bravado. The panhandler with the kitten.

I gather with other young professionals. Sometimes for coffee. Sometimes cosmos.

We've never felt unsafe, vulnerable or threatened.

There's beauty here. Cincinnati holds my friends. My career. My hope for the future.

Thank goodness Godshall has that vision, too.

E-mail mdowns@enquirer.com