The 1881 Warwick Apartments -- 184 West 10th Street

 

image via nycbuildingadvisors.com

Philip Henry Dugro (who went professionally by his middle name) was not only an attorney, a judge, and a New York State Assemblyman, he was a real estate developer and partner with Herman Raegener in Dugro & Raegener.  In 1880, the pair hired architect F. W. Klemt to design an apartment-and-store building at the southwest corner of West 4th and West 10th Streets.  (In 1881, the year the Warwick apartments was completed, Henry Dugro would be elected to Congress.  He is, perhaps, best remembered for arguing that the reputations of  Black citizens had less legal value than whose of whites.)

Construction cost Dugro & Raegener $18,000, or about $570,000 in 2026 terms.  Klemt designed the five-story building in the popular neo-Grec style.  Faced in red brick and trimmed in brownstone, its windows wore prominent lintels, each connected to the next by stone bandcourses.  The entrance was centered on West 10th Street, the stone frame of which included substantial pilasters decorated with incised, stylized flowers.  They upheld a heavy entablature and cornice.  Directly above, creative Lego-like brickwork created a framework for a stone plaque that announced "Warwick."

image via streeteasy.com

Residents of the Warwick were working- to middle-class.  George P. Gabeka, who lived here in 1884, for instance, taught in the boys' department of Grammar School No. 38 on Clarke Street.  And two young women, presumably sisters, placed an advertisement in The New York Times on November 20, 1894 that read:

Chambermaid--Lady's Maid--By two French girls, speaking English; one as chambermaid or waitress, the other as lady's maid; good city references.  184 West 10th St., Simon's bell.

The two women were apparently educated and mannered.  Both a lady's maid and a waiter (the servant who served in the dining room and drawing room) would be necessarily polished and well-spoken.

Living in the Warwick in 1895 was Lizzie Barton, who found herself in a tangled and publicized romance.  Lizzie began seeing a man named Thomas Watson, who turned out to a charming and seductive lothario.  It is unclear if Lizzie was aware that Watson was a married man (with more than just one wife).

On May 3, 1895, Antoinette Watson sued to compel Ella May Watson to provide proof of her marriage to Thomas Watson.  Ella May, in turn, sued Antoinette for $30,000 damages "for the alienation of the affections of Watson, whom both claim as a husband," as reported by the New York Herald.  The enraged Ella May initiated a divorce suit, "on the ground of Watson's relations with Antoinette and another woman named Lizzie Barton."  The two Mrs. Watsons battled it out in court, accusing one another of being a loose woman, each insisting she was the legitimate wife.  It does not appear that Lizzie Barton was ever called to testify.

In the meantime, a saloon occupied the storefront on West 4th Street.  The owner had a serious problem in December 1890, placing an ad in The World that read: "Lost--A saloon license issued for 230 West 4th st; finder rewarded by returning same."

The saloon was operated by Herman Romer as early as 1904.  That year he was targeted by the notorious domestic terrorist group, the Black Hand Society.  On September 2, the New-York Tribune reported that Romer had been marked for the society's "latest financial venture."  The article said that the previous day, Romer "received a letter inscribed with a black hand, a stiletto, a revolver and skull and crossbones."  It read:

Put this in mind and don't forget.  We want you to pay the sum of $10,000, or you will be killed before September 15.  Leave the money at Tompkins Square Park on or before September 14 12 a.m. or any time before then.

The demand would equal more than $360,000 today.

Romer took the letter to the Detective Bureau, which offered a reward of $1,000 to anyone who could identify the sender.  A reporter from the New-York Tribune visited the saloon that night.  Romer told him, "If only one of those fellows could be caught, there would soon be an end to the whole society.  I will do my best to run my correspondent down."  (It appears that Romer survived the threat.)

As early as 1913, Herman Staats owned the Warwick.  He and his family, including son Charles P. Staats, lived in the  building, as well.  Among their tenants in the post-World War I years was James Daly, who worked as a watchman in the city's Dock Department.  Early on the morning of May 3, 1921, he saw a man on the West 58th Street Hudson River pier.  Joseph Collins was a 26-year-old soldier attached to the motor transport corps at the Army base in Brooklyn.  He had most likely been drinking all night and stumbled into the river.  "He was rescued by James Daly of 184 West 10th Street," reported The Evening World.

Fred Kern ran the saloon in January 1920 when Prohibition was enacted.  He did not significantly alter his business.  On August 2, 1922, The New York Times reported, "Sixteen saloons, three groceries, a bird store and a restaurant in Manhattan and the Bronx were raided yesterday by Prohibition Agents."  Among those arrested were "Fred Kern, owner, and Tony Terangelo, bartender, of a saloon at 230 West Fourth Street."

It ostensibly appeared that Fred Kern learned his lesson.  He converted his saloon to a funeral parlor.  Notices of funeral services routinely appeared in newspapers.  But, as it turned out, not all of those who visited were paying their respects to a deceased--they were partying in the back room speakeasy.  The ploy worked until September 9, 1923, when two Prohibition agents decided to inspect a hearse that pulled up to the curb.  The New York Times reported that the hearse, "was loaded with a half dozen kegs of beer."

Charles P. Staats and his wife, Marie, still lived here on February 21, 1939 when Charles died.  Among the properties Marie inherited was the Warwick and their country home in New Paltz, New York.

The former funeral home-speakeasy was converted to Lupe's Mexican Restaurant in 1933.  By the early 1940s, the store was divided into two.  The remodeling came with modern arcade show windows.  A barbershop and drugstore now shared the space.

Originally, a cornice ran below the second floor.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The turnover in ownership of the subsequent restaurant-bar frustrated food critics over the coming years.  On November 3, 1999, the New York Post's Cynthia Killian wrote, "The sign on the building is a reminder of times past and the triad of eateries that held sway over the years on the quirky little corner of West Fourth and West 10th.  First came Joe's, then Formerly Joe's and finally, as the sign says, 'Joe's...again.'"  Killian continued saying, "the lights are on, but Joe's not home any more."  In its place, Chow Bar & Grill had moved in.  

Similarly, the next year, on September 20, 2000, The New York Times critic Florence Fabricant groaned, "What was Joe's, then Formerly Joe's, then Joe's Again, then Chow Bar and Grill is now Chow Bar."

In 2010, Comida Mercado Fresca opened in the space, replaced the following year by the Mexican restaurant Empellón, owned by Alex Stupak.  The eatery remains in the space.

image via streeteasy.com

At some point, the storefront was bastardized with a brick veneer and faux Georgian doorway, and the red brick ironically given a coating of brick-red paint.  The intact residential entrance and the idiosyncratic brickwork above it, however, makes the Warwick pause-worthy.

many thanks to reader Frank Hosticka for suggesting this post