Ben Benson, one of New York’s exemplars in the highly competitive steakhouse genre, has died at the age of 89. Ever familiar in his brightly colored sweaters, Ben would walk slowly through his two-story restaurant on West 52nd Street, seemingly aloof. The truth was, Ben had been legally blind since college and once said, “People think I’m a snob. It’s difficult because I can’t make eye contact.”
But if he could not connect by eye with his legion of regulars, he kept his professional eye on every aspect of hospitality and quality at his restaurant, which was decked out with folk art, antlers and brass. No one bought better beef or lamb chops. His creamed spinach was nonpareil, and fried items like onion rings were irresistible once tasted. The wine list had depth and breadth and high prices, and his service staff, many long-time veterans from Eastern Europe, could carve open a roast chicken or shell a lobster with equal parts speed and grace.
With Alan Stillman, a fellow Bucknell alumnus, Ben founded the TGIFriday restaurants, and opened Smith & Wollensky with him on the East Side, which itself grew into a franchise chain. But Ben refused to open more than one steakhouse with his own name on it, telling the Times, ”There will never, never, never be another Ben Benson’s.” Ben Benson’s Steakhouse opened in 1982 and was one of the few of its kind on the West Side, aside from the well-established Gallagher’s, which had opened in 1927. When I started frequently Ben Benson’s in the 1990s, I wrote in Esquire, “The kitchen doesn’t make mistakes. There’s no overpaid celebrity chef back there, just heat-hardened pros who know how to work an 800-degree grill. . . . There are no puny one and two-pound lobsters here. They start at three and go up from there: five, seven, sometimes ten. You can spot America’s best red meat-loving jocks. Former Yankee David Wells put away a double porterhouse after pitching his perfect game. And the leakproof doggie bags, which sport a picture of BB’s mascot, Rocky the bulldog.”
Ben Benson’s Steakhouse opened in 1982 and had a terrific run, but after the downturn in 2008, business slumped and never returned to acceptable heights. The steakhouse had also a lot of increased competition from newcomers on the West Side, including The Palm, Morton’s, Del Frisco’s and Ruth’s Chris. Add to that an intolerable hike in his rent, and Ben decided to close his restaurant, on Father’s Day in 2012, with vague plans to re-open somewhere else. But Ben was getting older and his sight wasn’t getting any better.
I have to imagine that Ben was a tough negotiator and taskmaster in
his business, but I only knew him as a very sweet, very New York kind of guy, ready to hear or tell a good story, eager to recommend a particular dish of the evening and someone who clearly loved what he did. That’s the way it is with true restaurateurs and why they stay in business for thirty years. Everybody knew Ben and everyone looked up to him. There will never, never, never be another Ben Benson.
