CLEVELAND, Ohio -- It was 2 a.m. Tuesday, and the glowing sign said OPEN. But the picture revealed a very different story at TOMO Sushi and Hibachi Restaurant in Cleveland's Warehouse District.

Inside, the lights were on, the tables set. But there was not a soul to found anywhere.

Even the staff was gone -- drinking beers at a table on the patio, the only table with anyone around it.

"The RNC has been horrible for business," said Velimir Lucic, owner of the multilevel bar-restaurant as he waved his hands down West Ninth Street. "Not just mine, just look around."

Indeed, West Ninth was largely empty. Just like West Sixth Street. Just like the entire Warehouse District.

Cleveland bars would usually be closing anyway at 2 a.m. The arrival of the Republican National Convention has extended that time to 4 a.m.

As it turns out, they could've moved it up to midnight.

"It's a ghost town here ,and I'm not saying this to be political -- because I'm supporting Trump," said Lucic. "And it started last Friday, when they started blocking traffic into the city."

Most bars in Warehouse District had cleared out by 11 p.m. on Monday and Tuesday -- creating what looked like a scene out of some post-apocalyptic film where the sole survivors are the bartenders and a small pack of dedicated drinkers.

"The RNC definitely hasn't lived up to expectations," said Jeff Hassan, owner of Nauti Mermaid. The West Sixth spot upped its order in the belief that the convention would bring out droves of attendees, media and curiosity-seeking locals. "I'm staying open until 4 a.m. because I wouldn't want someone to show up thinking they could get a drink - but there's really no reason to."

Most downtown spots were slow hours many before that.

The biergarten was empty and the bier hall hosted 30 diners at Hofbrauhaus Cleveland at 7 p.m. - usually a prime time for the popular Bavarian-themed spot in Playhouse Square. There were two people at Porcelli's Bistro at 8:45 p.m.

Down the street, there were a handful of people at Moriarty's Bar.

"I hired a cop to work the door and bought extra drinks," says owner Morgan Cavanaugh. "I figured the big boy would make the money and the little people get the crumbs - but we're not even seeing crumbs."

Cavanaugh has gotten the occasional walk-up in for the convention. The problem is that not many people are walking - at least down this street.

"I look out the window and see a lot of cops," says Cavanaugh. "They're doing a fine job, but when you have such a large police presence it's intimidating to customers."

Heading into the convention, bar owners feared added security measures would make getting in and out of the city difficult and would scare away drive-in locals. It's a key demographic for Cleveland, where the downtown population (13,000) cannot not sustain such a large bar-restaurant scene.

Restaurateurs also point to the media coverage of protests as a reason for declining business.

"The media is scaring people away," says Cavanaugh. "I'm having people asking if there are protests all over - and in reality there's nothing going on. Actually, everyone's been pretty friendly down here - that being the police and the few other people down here."

Fears of protesters, amplified by social media, have even scared people away from West 25th Street and have hurt business during the RNC, says Sam McNulty, co-owner of Market Garden Brewery.

"I'm telling people, 'No, we don't have a bunch of protesters down here,' " he says. "Come on down and see for yourself."

East Fourth's strategic location between The Q and many hotels makes it a natural walkway for attendees - which has helped business for locales such as Pickwick and Frolic. Especially considering that many of its competitors on the street have been "taken over" by media companies during the duration of the convention.

"We were packed all day Tuesday with walk-ups," said Pickwick owner Nick Kostis as he surveyed the action at 10 p.m. Tuesday. "There's a lot of excitement - at least on this street."

The crowds have spilled out onto Euclid Avenue and into spots such as Chocolate Bar, but the activity is concentrated.

It definitely didn't hit TOMO on West Ninth Street.

"Downtown is dead, and now I am just drinking beer here with my friends," said Lucic. "Hey, maybe the protesters can come and drink with us."

As his friends laughed, he surveyed their beer bottles.

"Look, it's empty," said Lucic. "Look, we still have to stay here for a while - you guys want another beer?"