Mac’s Mirror Room, beloved downtown bar
Published 7:15 am Sunday, March 28, 2021
Mac’s Mirror Room was a beloved bar in downtown New Iberia. It actually started as the Mirror Room, owned by M.A. (Mitch) Ackal, who also owned a loan company next door, according to Facebook poster Ron Durand. By the ‘70s, John “Mac” McKenzie had acquired it, and he and his wife Beatrice, known as “Sweet,” ran the place. Sweet was the daughter of the owner of Provost Cafe on Main Street, which later became Clementine, then Preservation, now Calabria restaurant. I first discovered Mac’s Mirror Room as a radio news director in 1981. It was a convenient-to-the-courthouse hang-out after lengthy, down and dirty Police Jury or City Council meetings, a wind down and discuss what really went on kind of place to commiserate with my fellow journalists.
Many New Iberians have fond recollections of both iterations of the Mirror Room, at 111 Iberia Street just down from Main. The facade was two large mirrors, and the interior was large and nicely appointed. By the time I got there, pool tables had taken over some of the seating featured in the photo of the interior — this was probably before the Mac’s era, but that’s not clear. I usually did not make it further inside than the bar, where I sat elbow to elbow with colleagues, talking New Iberia politics, media, and what might be for lunch the next day. Peggy Faucheaux shared with me that her dad, Robert Holbrook would bring her to the Mirror Room when she was about two years old, and sit her on the bar. The bartender would give her a bowl of cherries to eat. She said she doesn’t really remember this herself, but her parents would always tell her the story.
Annette Viator, New Iberia native and current resident of Baton Rouge, has a similar story to relate, although it doesn’t end quite as well. She says that Mitch Ackal, first owner of the Mirror Room, Nick Vuillemot and her dad, E.J. Viator were buddies in the National Guard. Their friendship extended to the other aspects of their lives — they were in real estate together, and most importantly, on Saturdays, when their wives would shop, they would bring their children to the Mirror Room. The kids would visit, and the bartender, nicknamed ZooZoo, would sit them at high tables. She served them martini glasses filled with 7-Up and olives. One such Saturday, Annette’s mother was walking back to her car with her purchases, and happened to see her children in the Mirror Room looking like they were drinking liquor. Annette says this was the last time she ever went there. Lisa Viator McGee recalls she had her first Coke with peanuts in the Mirror Room, and Suzanne Vuillemot Sloan had her first Shirley Temple there — on one of those Saturdays, no doubt.
Unfortunately, the Mirror Room is long gone. The building has housed many different businesses along the way, including Ja Ja’s Old Mirror Room Antiques, run by the late Gale Louviere Soileau. The mirrored facade has been lost to progress. No more green beer on St. Patrick’s Day, no more shooting pool or enjoying the extensive cigar lighter collection. What are your memories of this New Iberia watering hole?
For many children in the 1940s, ’50s and ’60s, a trip to an adult restaurant or lounge often meant ordering a Shirley Temple. It was an impressive mixture served in a tall glass, sometimes with an umbrella if a kid was really lucky. It made those bellied up to the bar sitting on a phone book feel so much more grown up. So, what’s the recipe for a Shirley Temple?
8 ounces of lemon lime soda or ginger ale
Generous splash of grenadine
Lime juice (some recipes have this, VERY optional)
As many maraschino cherries as you can fit in the ice filled tall glass (to stab with the umbrella and make a cherry-kabob before devouring)
A cocktail umbrella (see above)
Pour soda into a tall glass of ice. Add grenadine and lime juice if using, cherries and umbrella. Serve to nearest child in the bar or restaurant. (You can drink it yourself if you’re home.)
For the record, Wikipedia says Shirley Temple herself HATED Shirley Temples. “Too sweet,” she said. She even filed suit in 1988 to prevent a bottled soda version of the drink using her name from happening.