hen you're at a juncture people purposefully pass through rather than head toward, subtlety is rarely the most effective way of getting attention. Yet, subtlety is what the Library Bar is all about. Nestled surreptitiously under the wing of Fairmont Royal York Hotel, this tiny lounge is easy to walk by, but after sampling a few of the heavy-handed martinis here, walking back out may be the problem.

The platonic ideal of an old-school depression-era Chicago lounge, Library Bar’s entrance is virtually unmarked and the dark, cave-like interior with red velvet seating adds to the feeling you've stumbled on some hidden gem. Which you have. It's dark, wallpapered and classic red; a theatrical - without trying to be - space just waiting for Rita Hayworth to slink into the spotlight and sing "Put the Blame on Mame."

Yet there’s no music here. And no one notices, the lounge remains sweet and cozy each night, while staying seductively quiet, as the conversational hum flows through, infesting even the casual passersby with feelings of being an intimate member of the Rat Pack.

It’s so easy to soak up the romantic atmosphere characterized by directional decor, but what about the crowd? Let’s just say the folks that frequent Library Bar aren’t the most scintillating bunch. Expect worldly travelers, chronic loungers, local girls and their sugar daddies, which make for good eavesdropping along the corner tables.

Dim light illuminates the redesigned room (refurbished in November) with cocktail tables arranged about the room, strategically placed for couples to be, or not to be seen. Sitting amid the enticing surroundings, patrons recline or huddle together discreetly, depending on the image they want to portray. As sweet as it is, the Library Bar has it’s own illustrious past: it was in this discrete setting that was once used as a kidnapper’s drop-off point.

When, in 1934, John Labatt had been kidnapped, ransom notes went out and the whole scene of kidnapping events played forth. You give us cash. We give you Labatt. When it came time for the delivery of John Labatt, a call was made to brother Hugh Labatt’s home from the Fairmont Royal York reception clerk. The drop-off had been made; John was delivered - all scruffy and unshaven from his three days of kidnap - to the tiny lounge at the Fairmont, then known as The Royal York.

You don’t see too many kidnapper deliveries anymore, but the place still has a welcoming, vaguely cocktails-in-the-den-with-Jeeves feel to it. Library Bar’s unruffled atmosphere is classic, downbeat, and incredibly relaxing. "So far, so good," a longtime regular offered from a nearby barstool. Right.

Upshot: At the bar, the bartenders treat you like Rockefeller. In the lounge proper, the waitresses treat you like Gates.
- Don Ellis, Martiniboys.com



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Reader Reviews

Library Bar
Aryn Leacock
August 23, 2003
Assuredly the most tacitly, tastefully nostalgic bar pretty much anywhere outside of Chicago, this is one of the few genuinely classic gin joints you'll find on the continent and certainly the only one you'll happen upon in this city. Although it really is a bar made for regulars, overtly tourist types will find the service just as deferential as if they had been slouched in a corner table for the last 28 years hiding the scars of big city life under the dim lighting and in the shadow of an enormous manhattan. Some commuters, a lot of bankers, and the occasional burnt-out pseudo bohemian -- nonetheless, far from averse to the one-time drop-in. If you can spend an evening here with four martinis and not feel instinctively drawn back the following night (or early afternoon), you probably shouldn't be drinking in bars.


Damn baby
July 10, 2003
Ric Frankie, Toronto, ON
I travel a lot in the last year I have been to many lounges in every part of this country. Let me tell you this is the lounge to go - nice, sensual, quiet. l I had a great time and I will come back to this place the next time I'm in town.