The neon martini glass still flickers to life each evening at 307 Travis Street, just as it has since 1953. Inside Warren’s Inn, the dim lighting catches the brass rail of the original mahogany bar, worn smooth by seven decades of elbows and stories. The jukebox, loaded with everything from Sinatra to The Stones, hums in the corner. Tonight, like every night, it feels less like a bar and more like a living room frozen in time.
“My father always said a good bar should feel like coming home,” says Carolyn Wenglar, daughter of founder Warren Trousdale and the bar’s current owner. She’s perched on the same barstool where she used to do her homework after school in the 1960s. “He never wanted anything fancy. Just good drinks, good music, and good conversation.”
The Early Days
When Warren Trousdale opened his namesake bar in 1953, downtown Houston was a different world. Oil money was flowing, the Ship Channel was booming, and Market Square was the beating heart of the city’s nightlife. Warren’s quickly became a favorite among courthouse lawyers, newspaper reporters, and theater crowds from the nearby Alley Theatre.
“Back then, you’d see judges sharing drinks with janitors,” recalls Tom Wilson, 82, who’s been coming to Warren’s since 1958. “Warren didn’t care who you were. If you could tell a good story and mind your manners, you were welcome.”
The original location was actually across the street, in what is now a parking garage. The bar moved to its current home in 1978, with Warren insisting that every piece of the original bar – from the Victorian bar back to the ancient ceiling fans – make the journey across Travis Street.
The Magic Formula
What’s kept Warren’s alive while countless trendier spots have come and gone? The answer might lie in what hasn’t changed. The drinks are still strong and reasonably priced. The bartenders still know most customers by name. The Christmas lights still twinkle year-round, and the clock behind the bar still runs exactly 15 minutes fast – a quirk Warren introduced to help downtown workers catch their trains home.
“We’ve never tried to be anything we’re not,” says longtime bartender Mike Shapiro, mixing another perfect Manhattan. “No craft cocktails, no small plates, no theme nights. Just honest drinks and real people.”
Surviving the Changes
Downtown Houston’s evolution hasn’t always been kind to its historic establishments. The oil bust of the 1980s emptied out the office towers. The 1990s saw much of the area’s nightlife migrate to Midtown and Washington Avenue. More recently, the pandemic threatened to do what economic cycles couldn’t.
But Warren’s endured. When downtown began its renaissance in the early 2000s, younger crowds discovered the bar’s authentic charm. Today, you’re as likely to see tech workers and artists as you are the old-guard regulars.
“The kids these days, they’re looking for something real,” Carolyn says. “They’ve got their fancy cocktail bars and rooftop lounges, but there’s something about this place that speaks to them. Maybe it’s because everything else moves so fast now.”
The Next Chapter
As Warren’s Inn celebrates its 70th anniversary this year, there’s a palpable sense of both history and continuity. Carolyn’s daughter Marie has begun taking on more responsibility at the bar, representing a third generation of family ownership. The original recipes for their famous martinis and Manhattans have been carefully preserved.
“People ask me all the time if we’re going to update things, maybe add some craft beers or update the décor,” Marie says. “But why mess with perfection? This place is a piece of Houston’s soul.”
Indeed, in a city often criticized for paving over its history, Warren’s Inn stands as a defiant reminder of what endures. The neon martini glass still beckons, the jukebox still plays, and the stories still flow as freely as the drinks.
As midnight approaches on a Wednesday, the bar is comfortably full. A group of young lawyers trades war stories with a retired judge. A couple on their first date discovers the magic of the jukebox. At the end of the bar, Tom Wilson raises his glass in a quiet toast to absent friends.
The clock behind the bar still runs 15 minutes fast, but at Warren’s Inn, time has a way of standing wonderfully still.
Note: This article will appear in the November 2024 edition of Houston.com’s Nightlife section.
