For almost 18 years, the empty lot on Decarie and Kenmore sat silent and empty but for over two decades prior to that, the same geography hosted one of the city's most legendary strip joints, a reflection of its loud-and brashy boss.
Alfie Segal was the city's best-known stripper impresarios of his times and the bar he operated on Decarie from 1975-1996 was a reflection of his quirky character.
Segal's bar was known as Le Strip but was only known as Alfie's, a reflection of his larger-than-life character. The Cadillac-driving Segal didn't shy away from attention and once described himself to a reporter as a “nightclub operator, entrepreneur and actor” and even made a failed bid city council bid in 1982.
Alfie was not a quiet man, and would often greet people with, “Hey howya fuckin' doin'!?”
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His bar had walls adorned with vinyl records from the 50s, unpretentious dancers who were not always drop dead gorgeous and the songs were often famously short.
The music was from the 50s and 60s and was played quietly on an inadequate sound system. When a song ended it, one could hear conversations from other tables easily.
Alfie was so well-known that a female fiend of mine, then a teenager called up as a prank to to ask for an audition. "Sure doll, just come up and bring your funky disco tapes.” Her comic imitation of his cackling intonation and corny phrase became her go-to funny yarn for years.
Although I never frequented the bar or ever even spoke to Alfie, data-mining suggests that the dancers deemed to be the wildest were the most fondly remembered by patrons: Jamie aka Tara, sisters Charmaine and Kelly, Latina sisters Carolina and Cassandra, a dancer in an American flag or Budweiser bikini, loudmouth Bobbie with slicked back hair, Afro-Canadian Amber, a bodybuilder stripper, Greek Voula, Jane, aged 40 and the frequently-inebriated Brandy.
They would give $5 dances to songs such as Stupid Cupid, Age of Aquarius, In the Ghetto and these Boots were Made for Walking.
Staffers included Warren the dwarf doorman, Brian, who enjoyed getting to know the dancers and his brother Earl who moved to Ottawa and married a dancer, as well a janitor frequently dressed in red that looked like the wrestler Moon Dog.
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Customers' fond memories include a night when the place improvised in silence and darkness during a power outage. Another claimed that the urinals were a useful place to have intercourse with dancers, although officially such things were shunned and nobody else in this decade-old nostalgic discussion seemed to recall such shenanigans.
In late 1982 city officials attempted to shut the place down because police noted that Normand, Roland and Maurice Dubois of the famous St. Henri crime family were spotted there.
Maurice Dubois once walked out with a wad of $1,500 cash hidden in a rag in 1981, so they were either the secret owners or were collecting some sort of extortion. And about 10 other known criminals were said to hang out there, according to police.
Segal was pretty honest but cryptic when asked to explain. “I'm caught in a bind between you and them. There is not much I can do about it.”
The bar lost the ruling but survived nonetheless, only closing for good when the building was set afire and destroyed by arsonists on December 9, 1996. Propane canisters and a can of gasoline were found nearby, so there was never any doubt of the cause of the blaze.
Neither Segal nor building owner Normand Tousignant said they had a clue of who might've targeted the property, which also housed a pawn shop on the ground floor and a pool hall on the third floor.
Alfie attempted to open another club called Gentleman's Choice on St. Catherine near Drummond from about 2000-2010, employing his two sons and many of the same dancers.
Alfie Segal was the city's best-known stripper impresarios of his times and the bar he operated on Decarie from 1975-1996 was a reflection of his quirky character.
Segal's bar was known as Le Strip but was only known as Alfie's, a reflection of his larger-than-life character. The Cadillac-driving Segal didn't shy away from attention and once described himself to a reporter as a “nightclub operator, entrepreneur and actor” and even made a failed bid city council bid in 1982.
Alfie was not a quiet man, and would often greet people with, “Hey howya fuckin' doin'!?”
His bar had walls adorned with vinyl records from the 50s, unpretentious dancers who were not always drop dead gorgeous and the songs were often famously short. The music was from the 50s and 60s and was played quietly on an inadequate sound system. When a song ended it, one could hear conversations from other tables easily.
Alfie was so well-known that a female fiend of mine, then a teenager called up as a prank to to ask for an audition. "Sure doll, just come up and bring your funky disco tapes.” Her comic imitation of his cackling intonation and corny phrase became her go-to funny yarn for years.
Although I never frequented the bar or ever even spoke to Alfie, data-mining suggests that the dancers deemed to be the wildest were the most fondly remembered by patrons: Jamie aka Tara, sisters Charmaine and Kelly, Latina sisters Carolina and Cassandra, a dancer in an American flag or Budweiser bikini, loudmouth Bobbie with slicked back hair, Afro-Canadian Amber, a bodybuilder stripper, Greek Voula, Jane, aged 40 and the frequently-inebriated Brandy.
They would give $5 dances to songs such as Stupid Cupid, Age of Aquarius, In the Ghetto and these Boots were Made for Walking.
Staffers included Warren the dwarf doorman, Brian, who enjoyed getting to know the dancers and his brother Earl who moved to Ottawa and married a dancer, as well a janitor frequently dressed in red that looked like the wrestler Moon Dog.
Customers' fond memories include a night when the place improvised in silence and darkness during a power outage. Another claimed that the urinals were a useful place to have intercourse with dancers, although officially such things were shunned and nobody else in this decade-old nostalgic discussion seemed to recall such shenanigans.In late 1982 city officials attempted to shut the place down because police noted that Normand, Roland and Maurice Dubois of the famous St. Henri crime family were spotted there.
Maurice Dubois once walked out with a wad of $1,500 cash hidden in a rag in 1981, so they were either the secret owners or were collecting some sort of extortion. And about 10 other known criminals were said to hang out there, according to police.
Segal was pretty honest but cryptic when asked to explain. “I'm caught in a bind between you and them. There is not much I can do about it.”
The bar lost the ruling but survived nonetheless, only closing for good when the building was set afire and destroyed by arsonists on December 9, 1996. Propane canisters and a can of gasoline were found nearby, so there was never any doubt of the cause of the blaze.
Neither Segal nor building owner Normand Tousignant said they had a clue of who might've targeted the property, which also housed a pawn shop on the ground floor and a pool hall on the third floor.
Alfie attempted to open another club called Gentleman's Choice on St. Catherine near Drummond from about 2000-2010, employing his two sons and many of the same dancers.