Benny Blanco's Leaving Cap Hill for the ’Burbs Isn't a Reflection on Denver

Fans of New York-style pizza were saddened by the news that Benny Blanco's was closing its longtime spot on East 13th Avenue. Yes, it's a shame that the joint's slice savvy will be missed in Cap Hill. Yes, it's sad. Yes, it's the end of an era.

What it's not is a sign of something more dire for Denver.

The usual take when an old favorite shuts its doors: much lamentation, all the sturm and drang, a wallowing in the self-flagellation of the longtime Denver residents who feel as though perhaps they were in some way responsible. Not patronizing the places important to us. Not ordering enough extra-large pies (with garlic, please), couched in the oily cardboard of one of the coolest pizza boxes in town.

At least those mourners shoulder the blame themselves. Others take the opportunity to blame the city of Denver, or capitalism and the free market, or the homelessness issue plaguing pretty much every city of size in the nation. Or something vaguely awful somewhere in the political and social mix. One Facebook post went so far as to suggest that "Denver is imploding."

It can feel like that. With Benny Blanco's leaving Denver proper at the same time the Mercury Cafe finds itself back up for sale and Mutiny Cafe is moving to Englewood? All this on the heels of Tattered Cover being sold to Barnes & Noble? A certain segment of Denver is understandably reeling.
But here's the thing: It's just that group of people who lived and worked on the streets of Denver for the last few decades who will really feel it. For those of us aging out of the group that used to more or less run the streets, it's natural to panic a little when we see those places fade away. The ones we feel will and should last forever. But nothing ever does. Nothing gold can stay, Ponyboy.

It's not a pleasant thing to realize, let alone accept, that you're no longer your own city's primary audience. But it happens most often because those people who started and own and operate our favorite places are aging, too. What we once wore as a badge of pride — surviving the streets and thriving despite all its challenges — suddenly becomes something we feel as though we shouldn't have to put up with so much anymore.

As evidence: the closure of Benny Blanco's, which isn't so much a closure as it is a retreat to the suburbs. Owner Holly Martinez admitted as much: "We don’t feel comfortable in the area any more due to homeless and the decline of the neighborhood,” Martinez said, a discomfort that clearly stems from her husband, Mike, reportedly being attacked and Maced near its location on 13th. So they're moving out of Denver and into Arvada, like any number of families do as their lives change, right along with their priorities. They'd already opened a Benny Blanco's location there in June.

It's totally natural, the cycling of eras in a city. It's happened here in Denver more times than those of us still aboveground can count. The closure of Celebrity Sports Center and Cinderella City. The wiping out of all the White Spot restaurants (one of which many won't even know was what became Tom's Diner, also gone now). Paris on the Platte disappearing in a puff of smoke. The loss of Dixons, Goodfriends and finally Racines. The closure of The Market on Larimer Square. And so on, ad almost infinitum. All watershed moments for some; understandably meaningless for those Denverites who follow after.
Is Cap Hill any less safe than it ever has been? Not according to statistics. On the contrary, violent crime is trending down, according to Denvercrimes.com, which reports over 25 percent fewer crimes in Cap Hill in 2024 compared to the same date in 2023. Not only that, but Cap Hill doesn't even break the top twenty in terms of crime rates for Denver neighborhoods.

So it's not the street that's changed significantly. It's the perception of the area by those living and working within it. It's the world as seen by a couple who've run a city-center pizza joint for nearly a quarter-century and no longer want to put up with the crap they've had to put up with for that whole time. And, hell — it's a good bet that a significant portion of their former customer base has already beaten them to it, moving to whatever outlying community in the metro area is closest to their job and their kids' schools. A place where sidewalks are a little cleaner, a little better lit, and there are regulations about the colors of houses and the height of the grass. In other words, "the neighborhood is declining" is just coded language for "I want these kids to get off my lawn."

And that's okay. It's a personal decision on the part of the Martinez family, who deserve every happiness (and all the customers who will undoubtedly make the occasional trip northwest for their garlic knot fix). There's a reason Food & Drink Editor Molly Martin reports that when news broke of Benny Blanco's vacating its spot on 13th, she received not one, but two emails from aspiring pie-makers interested in moving in.

Because this isn't the tolling of the bell for Denver. Just the end of yet another era and the start of another.