Chic-N-Coop & Indian Room (Montreal)

1. Overview

Set in the heart of the commercial strip on Sainte-Catherine Street, at the corner of Drummond and near Stanley, the Chic-N-Coop / Indian Room complex embodies the new urban sociability of the postwar years: quick or festive meals, after-theatre cocktails, long musical evenings, all staged in a spectacular décor that banked on exoticism. Contemporary advertisements present the Indian Room as “Canada’s most unusual cocktail lounge and bar”, attached to “Canada’s most unusual eating place,” the Chic-N-Coop itself.

The venue operates both as a high-volume family restaurant, busy well into the night, and as a night-time meeting place for out-of-towners, theatre people, athletes and the central-city demi-monde. From 1949 onward, the creation of the Indian Room gives the complex an extra dimension: a themed lounge inspired by the Indigenous nations of the Prairies, conceived in the promotional language of the time as a kind of “living museum”, but clearly falling today into caricature and cultural appropriation.

2. Origins: Frolics, El Chico and the Hill family

The story of the Chic-N-Coop is rooted in the trajectory of the Hill family, a dynasty of restaurateurs and cabaret operators. In 1929, brothers Eli, Cécile, Victor and Louis Hill opened a cabaret called Frolics on Saint-Laurent Boulevard, later described as the first large modern cabaret on the Main. It notably hosted New York celebrity emcee TEXAS GUINAN, whose catchphrase – “Hello, suckers!” – would remain associated with the venue.

In 1933, the Hills launched El Chico, a cabaret with Mexican accents that consolidated their reputation as pioneers of themed establishments in Montreal. Drawing on the experience gained in these venues – in both entertainment and food – they devised, in the late 1930s, the concept of a more accessible restaurant focused on chicken and ribs, capable of high-volume service by day and night while retaining a touch of worldly chic.

3. The Chic-N-Coop restaurant

The Chic-N-Coop opened in 1939 at 1196 Sainte-Catherine Street West, in the former home of Thomas D’Arcy McGee whose façade would gradually be pushed out to the sidewalk line. The concept revolved around a simple but effective menu: BBQ chicken, ribs, generous side dishes and ample desserts. Chef Dillard “Smitty” Smith, already working at El Chico, is often credited with perfecting the signature sauce and mastering the rotisserie, said to have been built in Brooklyn according to family lore.

The restaurant very quickly drew line-ups late into the night. Testimonies recall crowds stretching out “until five in the morning” on busy evenings. During the Second World War the Hills helped structure the Quebec poultry sector by partnering with producers and opening a processing plant on Rachel Street, in collaboration with bodies such as Veterans Affairs, Ogilvie Mills and Macdonald College.

By the early 1950s, the Chic-N-Coop employed more than one hundred people, serving lunchtime and evening crowds of office workers, families, theatre-goers and tourists. Many advertisements highlight the speed of service and the “moderate” prices, making the restaurant a compromise between accessibility and status.

4. Birth of the Indian Room

In late 1949, the Hills opened a new cocktail lounge called the Indian Room in an extension of the building and in the basement. Full-page ads in the Montreal Star and the Gazette announced a venue “inspired by the saga and romance of the North American Indian,” with décor designed by German-American artist Winold Reiss. Reiss had previously spent time on Blackfoot reserves in Glacier National Park (Montana), where he produced a series of portraits and camp-scenes from life.

The lounge murals depicted everyday scenes on the Blackfeet Reservation: for example, Chief “Middle River” hosting visiting Blood Indians, characters named “Falling Over the Bank”, “Yellow Kidney”, “Chief Eagle Calf” and “Swimming Under”, as well as a little girl nicknamed “Walking Child” and her mother “Morning Star”, described as the daughter of “Long Time Pipe Woman”. Other advertisements refer to a Kiowa warrior performing a “Sun Dance” or to an Indigenous archer rendered in Italian mosaic at the lounge entrance.

In addition to the murals, the Indian Room featured a dramatic new street entrance separate from that of the restaurant. A promotional drawing shows a glass façade decorated with stylized Indigenous motifs, topped by a neon sign reading “INDIAN ROOM” and the profile of a feather-headdressed chief. The ad explains that the new lobby offers a more direct and elegant entry into the lounge, while the restaurant’s reputation for “chicest foods, expertly served” remains intact.

5. Décor, Indigenous imagery and present-day perspective

Period advertisements present the Indian Room décor as a kind of artistic tribute to Indigenous peoples: they stress that the models are “Full Blood Blackfeet Indians,” that the portraits were “painted from life” by Winold Reiss, and that the mosaics are original works of art contributing to a “luxurious, comfortably relaxing atmosphere.”

From today’s standpoint, this visual universe is clearly a stereotyped representation: Indigenous nations are reduced to romantic or warrior figures frozen in a mythicized past, used as décor for a bar frequented by a largely non-Indigenous public. The advertising language – which speaks, for example, of “full-blood Indians,” or coins pseudo-Native phrases like “Tamawimino Otinikawin!” to welcome guests – reveals the exotifying appropriation typical of North American theme restaurants of the 1940s–1950s.

The Indian Room thus offers a telling case study in the representation of Indigenous peoples in Montreal’s popular culture: it combines genuine portraits painted on site by a recognized artist with an intensive, often caricatured, commercial use, in a venue where the communities depicted had no role in either management or storytelling.

6. Music programming and shows

The Indian Room functioned both as a fine-dining restaurant and as a music lounge. Its layout allowed for different experiences: quiet dinners, conversation at the bar or dancing near the stage.

Background music and Mexican trio

A column titled “Pianist, Trio at Lounge” describes the atmosphere in the late 1950s: pianist Max Chamitov, described as one of Montreal’s favourite lounge musicians, plays dinner music with a repertoire covering both popular tunes and light classics. His command of the instrument and his ability to respond to audience requests are emphasized.

After dinner the evening continues with Mexican trio Los Tres Compadres, who had been performing at the Indian Room “for the past several months.” The column underlines their skill as both individual soloists and as a tight ensemble, offering a varied programme that works equally well for dancing and for close listening.

Los Indios Tabajaras and American television

A full page in Le Devoir in September 1959 announces the appearance at the Indian Room of Brazilian guitar duo LOS INDIOS TABAJARAS, presented as “two Indians of pure blood.” The text recalls their appearances on Ed Sullivan and Arthur Godfrey’s TV shows in the United States and stresses that this is their first appearance in Canada, in what is described as “the most appropriate place” to receive them: the famous Indian Room. The ad notes that the lounge is fully licensed, with no cover charge or minimum, and invites patrons to come “after the theatre.”

Basil & Harris and the introduction of a dance floor

A piece dated 6 March 1962, titled “New Idea Displayed at Lounge,” reports on a recent innovation: a section of the floor near the stage has been cleared to create a dance floor. The initiative quickly proves popular with regular customers. Music is now provided by the piano-violin duo Basil & Harris, described as accomplished musicians able to supply both dance music and a discreet background for conversation. The writer stresses the flexibility of the setup: whether one wants to dance, listen or simply talk at the bar, the music never overwhelms the room.

7. Food, service and restaurant reviews

While the Chic-N-Coop became famous for its chicken and ribs, the Indian Room acquired its own international gastronomic reputation. In 1953, American travel magazine Holiday awarded it a Dining Distinction prize, ranking the restaurant among the 75 outstanding eating places in North America. The advertisement reproducing the certificate notes that in the same issue Holiday named Montreal one of the twelve most exciting cities on the continent and offered congratulations to the Indian Room’s patrons “coming from all over the world.”

A column in the “Gourmet Guide” series in the Gazette, devoted to “Dining at the Indian Room,” calls the venue a “superlative restaurant” whose quality has been “scrupulously maintained” since opening. The critic highlights the variety of the menu, which changes daily: from lamb shashlik caucasian served on a flaming sword, to more traditional steaks and roasts, to chicken curry or shrimp in East Indian style.

Appetizers are a point of pride: chopped chicken liver, marinated herring, smoked salmon, French-style onion soup au gratin. Desserts receive special mention: banana flambée, crêpes suzette, cheesecakes, French pastries, and an extensive selection of Canadian and imported cheeses. The column praises a well-stocked wine cellar and a full bar, noting that the Indian Room is fully licensed.

8. Clientele, sociability and reputation

Like Frolics and El Chico, the Chic-N-Coop attracted a very diverse clientele: families from the city, shopkeepers, American tourists, servicemen and pilots, baseball players, journalists, politicians and figures from the demi-monde. Society columns often located star-studded evenings there, as well as impromptu gatherings after shows at the major Sainte-Catherine theatres.

Advertising presents the Indian Room as a place “dedicated to the art of better living”, offering a “relaxing atmosphere,” “excellent cuisine,” quality beverages and gracious service. Copywriters stress that guests may find an ambiance appropriate for conversation, dancing or simply listening to music. Ads also emphasize very concrete perks for motorists, such as free indoor parking after 5:30 p.m. at the Tilden and Drummond garages.

Over time, the venue became a symbol of Montreal’s modern nightlife. A series of ads plays on the slogan “If you knew us when, you know us now,” highlighting the spectacular growth of the business since its early days: a staff of more than one hundred, expanded facilities, but a promise that the quality of the food on the plate remained the same.

9. The building, Thomas D’Arcy McGee and the “Irish Stones”

The Chic-N-Coop / Indian Room complex occupied the former home that admirers had presented in April 1864 to Irish-born politician and Father of Confederation Thomas D’Arcy McGee. The house, then located at 4 Montmorency Terrace, would later become 1198 Sainte-Catherine Street West. Above the second-floor windows, a series of shamrock-carved lintels – soon nicknamed the “Irish Stones” – recalled the orator’s Irish origins and served as a landmark for passers-by for decades.

During the Second World War an extension was built to bring the façade flush with Sainte-Catherine Street and to house the Indian Room restaurant on the ground floor. This transformation partially buried the Irish Stones behind a new storefront. An “Ourtown” columnist in the Gazette reports that after a major fire ravaged the Indian Room, the building remained half-abandoned until the mid-1960s, when the Hills, by then operating the Stage Coach Inn, decided to convert it into an office building with shops at street level.

Aware of the stones’ symbolic value, the Hills offered them to Loyola College. The massive blocks – one measuring more than 11 feet long – were carefully removed from the façade and hauled to the campus, where they were reinstalled as a bench at the entrance to the Vanier Library, accompanied by a plaque explaining their link to D’Arcy McGee. Two “Ourtown” columns, titled “Irish Stones” and “Homecoming”, recount this transfer and stress that the stones are a rare physical relic of McGee’s presence in downtown Montreal.

10. Fires, closure and conversion

The history of the Chic-N-Coop / Indian Room is marked by several fire-related incidents. A feature from the mid-1960s notes that “some years ago, fire gutted the Indian Room and the building remained more or less abandoned until early this year,” suggesting that an earlier blaze had already forced a partial shutdown of the lounge.

The best documented fire occurred on Saturday, 17 November 1962. That evening, around 5:10 p.m., a fire broke out in the basement of the Indian Room, 1198 Sainte-Catherine West. An initial article, headlined “Store Patrons Are Rescued by Firemen”, describes a three-alarm blaze at Drummond and Sainte-Catherine that forced patrons of an entire row of businesses out into the street. Firemen evacuated dozens of people from the Indian Room, the Chic-N-Coop restaurant, the Playland Coffee Shop and Wanner’s beauty shop; four firefighters suffered minor injuries.

A second article in the Gazette, by Grant Johnston and titled “$250,000 Damage in Fire”, details the damage: the blaze – the city’s third three-alarm fire of the year – virtually destroyed the Chic-N-Coop and caused heavy damage to the Indian Room and neighbouring shops. The piece notes that losses were estimated at around $250,000, that traffic on Sainte-Catherine had to be rerouted for several hours, and that the shamrock-decorated stones associated with D’Arcy McGee were still above the second-floor windows at the time of the fire.

In the wake of these events, the complex never recovered its former lustre. Society writers report that instead of reopening the lounge, the owners ultimately chose to convert the building into offices with shops at street level, bringing the story of the Chic-N-Coop / Indian Room as a restaurant and entertainment venue to an end.

11. Legacy

In Montreal’s memory, the Chic-N-Coop is closely associated with the rise of BBQ chicken and with the birth of a high-volume restaurant culture capable of serving enormous crowds into the early hours of the morning. The Indian Room, for its part, stands as a case of the postwar craze for themed lounges, the internationalization of the restaurant scene and the exoticizing appropriation of Indigenous cultures.

Seen from today, the venue concentrates many of the tensions of Montreal’s cultural history: the desire for modernity, the quest for tourist distinction, fascination with the “Other,” and the persistence of racialized stereotypes. The most tangible material survival of this story now lies in the Irish Stones of D’Arcy McGee – turned into a commemorative bench on Concordia University’s (former Loyola) campus – and in the many advertisements and newspaper pieces that allow us to reconstruct the atmosphere of a vanished establishment once billed as “Canada’s most unusual eating place.”