The landmark eatery was opened in 1958 and taken over two years later by 36-year-old Moe Sweigman,
Sweigman, from Halifax, worked the night shift while the El Morocco (later the Moustache) sat next door and the Canadiens played across the street, winning 10 Stanley Cups in the 18 years Sweigman ran it before selling out in 1978.
His clients ranged, "from the Westmounters to the down-and-outer, the show people, the kids from the discos, waiters, barmaids, cops, taxi drivers, insomniacs and ladies of the night"He posted 8 x 10 framed glossies of celeb visitors such as Sophie Tucker, Jack Carter an Jackie Mason but he tired of cleaning them and took them down.
He was philosophical about his departure.
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Though they have been there for about 37 years, I am thankful that I only have a memory of Eddie and his wife as sparkling young teens with bright, hopeful eyes and a kick-ass car.![]()
(I later learned that there was already much tragedy in the family, as two sisters were claimed in the flower of their youth, a story that only underlines the bravery of small shopkeeper family in my eyes.) The two became parents of a brilliant and clever daughter who I do not know but have chatted with on the Internet occasionally.
Nobody's indispensable. People will still come here after I'm gone. As long as you sere good food at good prices, you can put a baboon behind the counter with a cigar in his mouth and they'll still eat. That's life.
Lee Thomas, a Greek, took over and brought his son Eddie Thomas and his blonde haired girlfriend. They parked their red Corvette in my father's parking lot next door where I worked. I was about 15. They were barely older than myself.
I gobbled down a hundred bacon and egg breakfasts with my father at the place, a spot where the noisy din kept him more subdued than usual, limiting his usual customary lengthy oratories.
Sometimes at the parking lot we'd have an issue with keys. We wanted to close up but still had customers' keys.
So we'd leave the keys at the cash at Moe's or the Texan for the customers to fetch. I was always amazed that the cashiers never complained about being burdened with this thankless task of giving the keys back.
Later memories
In later years I'd come by on the occasional drunken post-clubbing moment or with my then bro-in-law Pierre Fortin, who lived nearby for a while.
One time I saw a guy falling asleep while eating and chewing, Both dozing off and eating. Unforgettable multitasking.
Another time a staffer went to the bathroom for too long and his colleagues teased him that he was "painting the walls in there." Being a proper kid from Westmount it took a while for me to figure out the unappetizing reference.
A meeting with a pair of excellent cops brought me back in the 90s, as an Asian crime squad specialist named Livesey got me to meet him at the spot he affectionately called "the Eat and Puke." Thanks to those meetings I got what would become one of the biggest local news scandals of that year.
Though they have been there for about 37 years, I am thankful that I only have a memory of Eddie and his wife as sparkling young teens with bright, hopeful eyes and a kick-ass car.
(I later learned that there was already much tragedy in the family, as two sisters were claimed in the flower of their youth, a story that only underlines the bravery of small shopkeeper family in my eyes.) The two became parents of a brilliant and clever daughter who I do not know but have chatted with on the Internet occasionally. Kevin Vahey, the brilliant Boston cameraman and observer of life, recently laid tribute to the longstanding eatery upon his latest visit. His enthusiasm for the place underlined the fact that sometimes people don't appreciate the good things in their own hometown until it's too late.