Yeah, the Post did a 50th anniversary article last year or so and interviewed Ben and his wife, whose name escapes me, and she said something about looking around one day and thinking “Where are all the black people?” The neighborhood’s gotten pretty gentrified. When I’ve gone in, it’s usually been about 50-50.
Their sons run it on the daily basis now. Everyone black who is anyone goes to Ben’s; the walls are covered with pictures, some with commentary on the person’s favorite dish.