It's way out! 1960 Beatnik hub El Cortijo on Clarke

By Bill Banley, photos by Mike Gravel

 The sign across the door, slopped there in white paint, says in French: "don't be afraid this isn't a funeral parlor."

  And man, it isn't. It's way out. Like it's jumping, daddy-o.

 The street is dark and you walk up, then down a flight of stairs into a cellar- and you come beard to beard with Montreal's beatnik set.

 This is El Cortijo, the place where the beats meet. It's a place where patrons are encouraged to paint on the walls; to spend hours over a 15-cent coffee; to read poetry aloud; play the piano or guitar, exhibit their paintings.

 It's a meeting place for those who haven't arrived and for those who live for the moment.. 

 "They are docile people," says co-owner Auspicio Ruiz., a Spanish one-time manufacturer's agent and designer turned boite operator. "It is only dirty tongues who say that narcotics are used by some of our patrons." 

Lecor

 Seated there in the dimly-lit cellar, many of them look as if they're in a different world. A girl with long uncombed hair sits doopy-eyed, oblivious of the noise and the crush of people about her. A  youth with a beard and a shirt that he hasn't changed in weeks reads poetry to himself. 

One by one they arrive to rehearse their rituals of revolt and nonconformity.

 But, as Ruiz says, they are a pacific lot. 

 A discussion by a group about Sartre gets out of hand and Ruiz approaches their table, containing half-empty cups of espresso coffee gone cold. 

"You will quieten down or you will leave," the swarthy Ruiz commands. 

"Oui, patron, oui," says one of the bearded ones. 

 And the debate resumes, in quieter tones. 

 "Narcotics? The very idea is ridiculous," Ruiz continues. "Many times they cannot even afford the price of a cup of coffee. I have to give them credit."

 Ruiz launched El Cortijo (pronounced L-KOR-T-) and meaning a farm in Andalusia where bulls are bred) in August, 1958, with a partner, Antonio Rios, a machinist originally from Cordoba. 

 They did little to decorate the place, a former garage and warehouse on Clarke St. The floor, in fact, is still bare cement. The patrons themselves, led by Paul "Tex" Lecor, the uncrowned prince ofthe pad, provide the atmosphere. 

 Here and there a bull was painted on the wall. An old red cloth became a matador's red cape. Portraits of pretty girl habitues were sketched on the walls alongside a cat (the real kind) and marked "pussy
Beatnick." The misspelling apparently bothers none of the beatniks. 

  A yellowed bullfight poster was glued to a wall. 

Other walls became a makeshift art gallery.

 "Unknown artists begin to sell their work," says Ruiz. "Exhibitions became so popular that the walls are booked until February." 

Among the exhibitors: an anemic-looking youth who said he painted while another under the influence of "the brain fever," whatever that may be.

 And so the place has thrived - not as a big money-maker, says Ruiz - but as a place where the bat meet their fellows. 

 Mostly, they drink coffee- one of five brands: espresso, cappuccino, Viennese, Spanish or American, varying in price from 15 to 25 cents. Others have Italian soft drinks. Few ever order the only food available - Ruiz stopped selling meals because the beats don't eat - a sandwich known by the Spanish name of bocadillo.

 It has happened that a patron brought in a  sandwich from outside. 

"I don't mind that," says Ruiz, "but I was annoyed one day when a customer called over the waiter and demanded mustard."

Who are the customers of El Cortijo? Many are art students. Others are would-be actors and actresses. Some hope to be writers and poets. They are of all nationalities. 

 The thing they all have in common. Their scorn of the square world. 

With additional photos by Claude Fournier's article in Le Soleil 20 February 1960

 The El Cortijo was located at 2112 Clarke, west side, just south of Sherbrooke. 

 Montreal's hip artist aritst cafes from 1950 progressed from La Hutte to l'Echouerie, to the Bambou, the Riviera and then the El Cortijo. 

 Beatnik Tex Lecor (1933-2017) told Le Petit Journal reporter Alain Stanke on 31 January 1960 that the El Cortijo had been overrun by tourists and he would be opening La Poubelle on Bishop Street.

   The top beatniks of the time, Janou St-Denis (1930-2000) Pascal, Toulouse, Moustique, Michel and others, were all on board.

   Lecor said his group sold 167 membership cards with a 50-cent per month fee. The Poubelle crowd included artists Louise Forestier, Robert Charlebois, Louisette Dussault, Marion Pertlet and Nick auf der Maur who read poems for five dollars and five free beers per appearance. 

 Lecor, who got his  nickname because he a belt buckle with Texas emblazoned on it, went on to some noteriety, hosting a western TV show and other high-profile gigs on radio.