Ben’s Chili Bowl: A Taste of the Real Washington?
Upon reading your year-opening spread on leisure in D.C. (“New in Town?” Aug. 22), I became a bit disenchanted. Although eye-opening and consistent in format, many of the paragraphs written about local venues were written from an angle often less taken. I, as many, typically applaud the uniqueness of this liberal journalism style but this time I simply cannot. The Leisure staff writers picked Ben’s Chili Bowl as “the” restaurant to be at after late-night weekend partying. I assume this was done because staffers have previously frequented the restaurant and have been pleased. However in no obvious way was this displayed by the article that ran in this school year’s first issue of The Georgetown Voice. More importantly, the article sadly put a visit to and a meal from Ben’s up as a prime example of experiencing “a taste of the real Washington.” Although I do not deny that Ben’s is a great example and part of the Washington experience, I do wish to deny that schoolmates of mine (particularly The Voice’s leisure staff) truly feel that what was written in The Voice about Ben’s is representative of this truth. Moreover, the reference to “black music while you wait” strikes me and others as quite inappropriate for an article of this type.
Ben’s Chili Bowl is a typical neighborhood diner. It has been around for decades. The jukebox carries the best of music up from those decades through the present. The bar, booths and old-style table/chair settings depict the essence of the past. Sitting within its walls, admiring photos of great stars such as Denzel Washington and Bill Cosby, you know that you are somewhere with a storied history, a history that runs deeper and through what is black and what is white. For this reason, delineating Ben’s down to anything less than this sparks clear issues in the minds of blacks like myself. I get the strangest sense that whoever wrote or contributed to this particular section does not belong on the same block as Ben’s. I feel this way because, although a favorite, its reasons for being so are a bit misconstrued. The writer sounds like an uncultured tourist, blind to the world outside of the 10-mile radius from where he or she came. I say this because being cultured involves more than knowing four languages, all of them European. It means more than to know of and be at places ranging from riveting landscapes to foreign countries to art galleries to aristocratic restaurants. Having culture is far beyond simply playing a role. To be cultured necessitates that one be aware of the world around him or her.
By developing the aforementioned, I attempt to ascertain that eating at Ben’s Chili Bowl is indeed a cultural experience, especially for those so unaware of black life. However, it is 2002, and although at liberty and welcome at all “black” venues, “whites” (at Georgetown) need to know and understand that clubbin’ and dinin’ downtown on U Street should in no manner be reminiscent of old Harlem nights. I fear and am increasingly alarmed by the ignorance of my generation as evidenced in this particular article. Words have much power.
I am also unnerved by the last sentence pertaining to Ben’s. Might I here recant it for effect? “The jukebox on the back wall is an institution itself: Whether it’s the sweet sounds of Marvin Gaye, the funk of ‘70s-era James Brown, or the indigenous syncopations of go-go, bring a quarter or two and dance to three decades of the finest in black music while you wait.” Although I am quite aware of the various musical styles and obvious differences between the way the majority of white and black artists perform music, I am unaware of the genre “black music.” Also a weekend customer of Ben’s, I am unaware of any dancing that takes place within its cozy confines. Neither have I seen a “coffee can labeled LARD” there. If there is one, please notify me so that you may impart me with a bit of knowledge unknown to me.
