A sweet blend of aromas hangs in the air as owners Matt Krimm and John Anderson chat over a display case that holds rows of ornately decorated pipes. The massive wooden shelf behind the main register is much older than both of the men standing in front of it, having been purchased over 120 years ago from another tobacco shop that had closed its doors. The walls are decorated with gifts from customers over the years, including NFL memorabilia, a guitar, and the stuffed head of a cape buffalo with a cigar hanging out of its mouth. Huge glass containers of loose tobacco with labels like Trump, Cuban Coffee and Oxford are lined up on a table like jars of jellybeans in a candy store.

Founded in 1887, Draper’s is the seventh-oldest tobacconist in the country. Krimm and Anderson are the latest in a surprisingly short line of employees to inherit the keys to the shop. The duo is only the fifth ownership group in over 120 years of business.

Anderson, 42, and Krimm, 38, met while working in a D.C. coffee bar during the early ‘90s. Anderson was a Draper’s customer until the former owner, John “Duke” Cox, offered him a stake in the business in 1999. Krimm was a Draper’s employee for seven years before becoming a co-owner in 2005 when Cox retired.

It’s a small, personal operation. In addition to the two owners, there’s only one other full-time employee. But some of the regulars are around so much, one could easily get the impression that they work there.

“Everett, are you an employee?” Krimm asks Everett Williams, a club promoter who says he hangs out at Draper’s five or six days a week.

“I’m…” Williams responds, searching for the right word to finish his thought. “Family.”

Draper’s isn’t the type of place where customers just walk in, make a quick purchase, and walk out. Krimm and Anderson are firm believers in the power of personal relationships. Even if they don’t know your name, they know what type of cigar you like. The shop is designed to encourage socializing, with a lounge area located front and center where customers are encouraged to sit down, puff on a cigar, and shoot the breeze.

Anderson described the typical scene: “You can walk in here, and see 20 guys sitting around smoking a cigar. From all walks of life. You got your bike messenger in the tattered bike clothes to the presidents of banks.

“And they’ll be talking one-on-one. They’re having a minute. When two guys are smoking a cigar in there together, playing fields are even.”

But, as society becomes increasingly unfriendly to smokers of all types, Krimm and Anderson feel their industry has come under attack through a litany of tax increases and regulations.

“I feel like we have a big target on our back,” said Anderson.

On April 1, the industry underwent the largest-ever federal tobacco tax increase, which was passed in order to fund an expansion of SCHIP, a program that helps fund health insurance for children. Taxes on large cigars went from around 5 cents to 40 cents per cigar, an increase of approximately 700 percent. The federal tax on cigarettes also went up by 158 percent. The tobacco product hardest-hit was  “roll-your-own” tobacco, which faced an increase of 2,159 percent.

In late July, the D.C. Council approved a fiscal 2010 budget that would raise local taxes on cigarettes and small cigars from $2 to $2.50 per pack in order to generate revenue to help plug a budget shortfall of $666 million.

Ted Hoyt, the editor of Smoke Magazine, which called Draper’s “one of the handful of gentlemen tobacconists left in the industry” in a 1997 feature about the D.C. cigar scene, says the cigar business is going through a tough time.

“The main public battle has traditionally been against cigarettes, and for years cigars weren’t necessarily dragged along, but that’s changed significantly in recent years,” Hoyt said. “The government has unfairly burdened this small industry that was once a very prominent part of American culture.”

When the intentions behind anti-tobacco legislation and higher taxes are brought up, Anderson jokes with Krimm about getting up on a soapbox. At Draper’s, the term takes on a literal meaning. The lounge features a small wooden box standing about 2 feet high that bears the inscription “Draper’s Soapbox.” During the course of the daily conversation, if a patron has a particularly strong opinion on politics, sports, or any other topic that may come up, he or she gets up on the soapbox and lets it fly.

“I have a big problem with legislating choice,” said Anderson, opting to stay behind the counter. “That’s what we’re doing. And we’re becoming a very sterile society because of that.”

“In a city that screams about taxation without representation… there was no public thought or debate given to a tax increase,” Krimm said, referring to the D.C. tax hike, which is scheduled to take effect in October.

The owners say the tax increases are forcing their customers to buy fewer or less expensive cigars, but most of them will likely keep up the habit anyway.

“The guy that enjoys a cigar is using it for relaxation and just to have a moment with friends,” Anderson said. “They’re going to smoke… but they’re going to do it less.”

Williams, the ever-present member of the Draper’s family, says he notices the higher tax, but it won’t stop him from buying the cigar he wants to buy. The family feeling and friendly conversation are enough to keep him coming back.

“It’s like an old barbershop,” Williams said. “It’s a great spot.”

Krimm and Anderson say something has got to change if places like Draper’s are going to survive. They both feel that the recent tax increases are just as much about getting rid of tobacco altogether as they are about funding government programs.

“If you’re going to tax us to death, do it,” Krimm said. “If you want us to go away, just tell us to go away. But you can’t have it both ways.”

Anderson says society has got to reach a happy medium between taxing tobacco and leaving people free to choose their own hobbies and hangouts. He hopes to be able to continue the Draper’s legacy by passing ownership of the shop down to the next loyal employee or customer. He’s even got slim hopes that one day his daughter might take over the business, but at 10 years old, right now she’s more interested in becoming a scientist than a tobacconist.

In the end, the owners at Draper’s feel that they provide a product and an environment that brings people together for a few minutes of relaxation and conversation during the course of the day, and that’s a tradition that needs to be preserved, not eradicated.

“It allows for great conversation and great camaraderie among a group of men,” said Anderson. “So I have a real problem with losing that.”