Mo' better Zanzibar Blue.

The wall above the toilet may seem like an odd place to hang beautiful art. But that's precisely where you'll find Leroy Campbell's "No Man's Band," a captivating print of several black '20s-era musicians - all women, dressed to the nines, attitude-for-days, stunning.

Somehow, at Zanzibar Blue, the hottest jazz cafe Philadelphia has ever known, the ladies room seems the perfect place for this piece. Like Zanzibar Blue itself, "No Man's Band" - even in the commode - leaves a lasting impression.

"When I go somewhere that pays that much attention to detail in the ladies room, I know they pay attention to everything else," says Wanda Daniels, a Zanzibar Blue regular.

As vice president of finance and administration for Philadelphia's Convention and Visitors Bureau, Daniels is a seasoned patron of the city's restaurant scene. And she knows that, for all its niceties, the restaurant business is tough. To succeed, you need a great location, great food, great service and constant traffic. Even with all that, profit margins are slim and good help is hard to train - and harder to keep. Customers are finicky and demanding and their tastes are ever-changing. To keep them loyal, you have to stay a step ahead. Consistent quality, impeccable service and small details - right down to the bathroom decor - never cease to be essential.

Robert Bynum and Benjamin Bynum Jr. know this all too well. The young brothers, both in their 30s, have joined the ranks of Philadelphia's most respected and successful restaurateurs. Their sleek and sophisticated Zanzibar Blue supper club and jazz cafe is still packed on weekends, even after six years and a move across town. Many fine restaurants never even live that long. Sixteen months ago, they tested their success by opening Warmdaddy's, which couples the blues with good old-fashioned Southern cooking. Despite some skepticism, it took off immediately. Like Zanzibar Blue, Warmdaddy's gave Philly something it needed and, apparently, wanted.

Aside from serving up good mood and food on a daily basis - no easy task in and of itself - the Bynums are being credited with breathing new life into Philly's live music scene. The cost and headache of booking national and local acts on a regular basis hardly seems worth it, but it has given their businesses a competitive edge and earned them a loyal following. Their in spots have become best known, however, for being perhaps the only multicultural social centers in Philadelphia. Apparently, before the Bynums came along, black and white professionals rarely hung out together in the City of Brotherly Love.

No doubt that's why Romona A. Riscoe, executive director of the city's Multicultural Affairs Congress, says the Bynums have played a crucial role in earning Philadelphia top honors as a travel and tourism destination for African Americans by the U.S. Travel and Tourism Administration. "The perception of Philadelphia has been that it's a historic, conservative, even stoic, city," says Riscoe. "The Bynums' places have helped people shift their thinking. [Zanzibar Blue and Warmdaddy's] are the epitome of what we want to be from a promotions standpoint - a happening city."

At the root of such accolades are two refreshingly low-key entrepreneurs. What they may lack in flash, they more than make up for in commitment. And that's good. Because Robert and Ben's success depends on an intense level of personal and professional involvement in their businesses. The payoff so far has been significant, but the best may be yet to come. For if their savvy, luck and stamina hold, they may one day rank among the most successful black restaurateurs - and perhaps franchisors - in the nation.

IS YOUR LOCAL "BLACK"

RESTAURANT BLACK-OWNED?

African American culture is heavily rooted in our distinctive, rich food and music, and its appeal to white America is legendary. So, the Bynums' formula, which combines the two, seems unbelievably obvious. And yet, African Americans own a mere 4,571 eating and drinking establishments out of 407,824 nationwide, according to the U.S. Census Bureau. Translated into a percentage, that barely registers 0.5%. And the list of black restaurateurs who have achieved national acclaim is short: There's Sylvia Woods of Sylvia's in New York, Brad Johnson of Georgia in L.A., Barbara Smith of B. Smith's in Washington and New York, and a few others to round out the handful. But Smith, like many prominent restaurateurs, black and white, is not the majority owner of the bistro that bears her name. Capital for African Americans is tough to get, and the high-risk reputation of the restaurant industry doesn't help.

That reality is a source of deep frustration to Michael Vann, a co-founder and co-owner of New York's popular upscale black hangout, The Shark Bar, as well as a new spot, Soul Cafe. "What we own in a $220 billion industry is minuscule to nonexistent," says Vann. "Black people spend $30 billion a year dining out. That's 13% of the demand, and we own little more than 0% of the supply side. Meanwhile, our cuisine and culture are extremely underrepresented." Where bankers and venture capitalists tend to see a valley of risk, Vann sees a mountain of opportunity going untapped. This industry represents a "final frontier" for African American entrepreneurs who have the right recipes as well as a high degree of management and marketing know-how, he believes.

The Bynum brothers had no such grandiose visions in mind when they launched their first venture in 1990. Their bottom line was the same as any serious entrepreneur's: They wanted to make money. Launched in the heart of Center City - a busting business district where blue-chip companies commingle with the University of the Arts - Zanzibar Blue offered a cozy setting and sumptuous food, a blending of French, Italian Mediterranean and Caribbean influences. But by all accounts, the average $30 per person tab is worth it.

Zanzibar Blue's style is elegant and sophisticated, while its mood is intimate, friendly and what its many regulars refer to as "jazz cool." Its walls are lined with vintage photos and African American prints on consignment from, local galleries. Zanzibar Blue grossed $1.7 million in 1995; this year it expects to break the $2 million mark. That take, relative to its size, is quite impressive, based on National Restaurant Association measures.

The Bynums' second venture, Warmdaddy's, opened in late June of last year in Old City, on Center City's waterfront. A 150-seat soul food joint where they play the blues the way they should - loud and unrelenting - Warmdaddy's is Zanzibar Blue's bigger, much wider sibling. And, having grossed $1.7 million in its first year, Warmdaddy's future looks no less promising.

"A lot of the time, you see people become very successful with one place and open a second, and before you know it, they're both closed," says Jerry Etter, food editor for the Philadelphia Inquirer. With high praise for the brothers' restaurants, Etter says they "did the right thing. They took their time, they've trained their help - the service is excellent - and they took a very hands-on approach."

Jonathan Takiff, popular music writer for the Philadelphia Daily News, agrees. "Philadelphia has such a rich jazz history. John Coltrane and Dizzy Gillespie had roots here. Yet the typical jazz club was dark, smoky and smelled like beer. These guys took it upscale. They've made it much more sophisticated and date-friendly. They've really done a great job." As admirable as the Bynums' goals may be, executing them takes guts, says Takiff. "It's hard to do food and live music. It seems to be the undoing of a lot of places."

The Bynums concede that maintaining the live entertainment side of the business is both costly and tough, but it's essential to their appeal. They are fortunate, Robert notes, to be in a city "where there are so many quality jazz and blues acts performing on a local level." For Ben, the bottom line is that "it's a difficult business. You have to devote your life to it. If you do that, you minimize the risk." Of course, you also limit yourself to a life that revolves almost entirely around the business. Both single, Robert and Benjamin have begun to consider changing that. But doing so will probably involve changing the way they do business as well.

Therein lies the Bynums' dilemma. Much of their success is linked to the fact that they have been completely in control of every aspect of the business, from creating the menus to decorating the spaces to managing the money and checking coats at the door when necessary. At the same time, they are busily refining Warmdaddy's, which they hope to franchise, while also exploring new restaurant concepts and other avenues for growth. In the midst of all this, the question remains: If they delegate more, can they expand their success, or even maintain it?

ALL IN THE FAMILY

It's hard to put a finger on what exactly can undo a restaurant. What is clear, however, is that many come close each year. According to Dun & Bradstreet Information Services, 3,750 U.S. eating and drinking establishments failed in '95. While that number may seem large, it represents just under 1% of the 407,824 venues tracked. However, Lawrence Mielnicki, a Dun & Bradstreet economist, notes that restaurants are 53% more likely to fail than general businesses.

Why? Most significant is the fact that restaurants operate on an exceedingly tight profit margin, says Wendy Webster, spokesperson for the National Restaurant Association, headquartered in Washington. According to her most recent figures, in 1994, full-service establishments with an average check of under $10 averaged a 4.7% profit margin; their more expensive counterparts reported an even narrower margin at 3.7%. What that means is that a few slow nights a year can shut an otherwise fine restaurant down. Something as random as the weather can cripple an eatery for good. The Northeast's record-breaking snowfall last winter did just that to a few of the Bynums' competitors. But they stood strong, even with the complicating cost of live entertainment, which, at about $150,000 a year for Zanzibar Blue, knocks their profit margin down to around 2%.

How were they able to succeed while others failed? Like Etter, Takiff believes that the Bynums' core advantage lies in their hands-on approach. "There's so much delegation in the club business, and that's where you lose it," he says, citing an example of a Philly bartender-turned-manager who recently bled a business to bankruptcy. "You have to keep it tight and only delegate to people you really trust. Why are so many Asian and Indian and Greek families successful in these businesses? They keep it in the family."

Indeed. "Many restaurant owners are absentee owners," Robert explains. "We escort people in, clear tables if necessary. Our customers and employees like that. We've been able to generate a family environment. We're here. You have a problem? Call us over to the table. The staff is struggling? We're in there with them. That means a lot."

LIKE FATHER, LIKE SONS

Although they have generated a good deal of local attention, the Bynums don't overplay their success. "It's just food," Robert will say, shrugging off a question. Ben's retort: "It's a job." Their well-grounded approach is born of a completely realistic view of the business they grew up in. Their father, Benjamin Bynum Sr., ran several nightspots, including the Cadillac Club, which featured Gladys Knight and the Pips in its last show before it burned down in the '60s. Bynum Sr.'s Club Impulse, a discotheque well known to Philly's black residents, was sold just last year.

Both brothers worked for their father at various times and, for years, the family even lived above one of his bars, which was tended by their mother. So the restaurant business held none of that mythical glamour that lures so many others. They knew it best as an often difficult means of putting food on the table.

Still, they were drawn to it. And, together, they had the balance of experience that they knew could make it work.

Ben, 33, is the food aficionado. Trained at the Restaurant School in Philadelphia, he served as chef at a few local spots before going into business with his brother in 1990. He is quiet, even shy, largely deferring to his older brother during interviews. Robert, 38, earned his bachelor's degree at the Wharton School of Business. Although on the surface he appears to be as easygoing as Ben, he is a driven perfectionist, the type, one employee observes, "who has to be busy constantly."

Where Ben confesses to being disorganized and has to be reminded of appointments, Robert is hyper-organized and effectively keeps his hands on a dozen details at once. They share a reputation for being exceedingly calm in a high-stress business. They have an easy rapport and by all accounts there is no rivalry. According to their father, who books the blues acts for Warmdaddy's, that's the way it's always been with them.

"With a lot of brothers, there'd be an issue of, `well, who's in charge?' With them, there's never a question. Ben is real laid-back and he just relinquishes that to his big brother. Robert is more aggressive," Ben Sr. says, shaking his fists. "He is especially determined to show white folks that we can do it just as good as they can."

FROM TOGO TO PHILLY

It was Robert who first brought the idea of opening a club to Ben. In the early '80s, Robert was working for an import-export company and traveling a lot. During his travels, it occurred to him that the nightlife in small African countries such as Togo was richer than the one back home. He and Ben started talking about what they could do to change that.

The Zanzibar Blue concept struck them quickly enough. The name combines that of an African country with a mood. Both were integral to the overall theme. "There was no place that combined jazz and fine dining," says Robert. "Baby boomers were getting older and looking for something beyond nightclubs. Jazz also appealed cross-culturally."

Concept in hand, they faced the hurdle that kills most great business ideas before they can even be born: capital. They were fortunate enough not to have to took any farther, literally, than their own back yards. "We saved," Robert explains. "We figured we'd need $100,000 to start. Between savings and refinancing a house that our mother transferred into our names, we came up with $125,000." That independence has been important to the Bynums. In a business that leans increasingly toward corporate or celebrity backing, they have also declined to take on any additional partners, even deep-pocketed ones, for fear of muddying up a process that is uncomplicated and understood by them both. "So many of the decisions we make are instinctual," says Robert. "We don't want to sit around with a group of people discussing why we make them." Certain deals, though, are too good to pass up. Last spring, American Express Financial Advisers put $40,000 into a concert series at Warmdaddy's.

From the beginning, the brothers agreed that drawing an integrated crowd would be essential to the bottom line. Although they wanted their restaurants to have a distinctly black cultural feel - and they do - they wanted the general public to be drawn in - and they are. Key to achieving that was getting the right location. Most existing black-owned restaurants and clubs, including their father's, were in black neighborhoods. The brothers aimed for Main Street.

After six years in a hip but not great location, in September, they took over a space in the Bellevue Hotel, a cornerstone Philly local. With an extrance on Broad & Walnut they now live on Restuarant Row. But even at its original address, Zanzibar Blue quickly gained a reputation as one of the few places where black folks and whites enjoy a good time under the same roof. Oscar Smith, a senior account agent at Allstate, has been a weekly fixture at Zanzibar almost from the day it opened. "Initially I was drawn by the fact that I knew them and their father and wanted to support them," Smith says. "I go back because it is comfortable. It's a place where I can meet a lot of my professional friends - a lot of black folks come through there. But I can also meet white clients there, and everyone enjoys it. It's black-owned, but not necessarily a black place, if you know what I mean. That's pretty rare."

Robert and Ben put together a multiracial staff geared almost entirely toward service. "You can go to a lot of places and get good food or entertainment," says Ben. "But if you go and you don't feel special and you don't feel really appreciated, then you may not go back."

Training their employees was their toughest challenge. Typically, restaurants are staffed by people whose ultimate goal lies elsewhere - they're aspiring actors, artists, writers, etc. "Getting them to feel committed and connected to your business is very difficult to do," says Robert. "We accomplish it by letting them know we care. We expect a lot from them, but we treat them fairly."

That's an understatement, according to some of their employees. Donna Ashby, day operator at Warmdaddy's, says: "You're respected here. You don't feel that your job is minimal. You want to do the best you can because they do the best that they can by you."

Harry Hayman, Director of Operations for Warmdaddy's, agrees that the Bynums are an exception in an industry not known for fairness or caring. As an example, he points to the investment club Robert and Ben started with Zanzibar Blue employees. "Robert is concerned about the fact that waiters and waitresses make a lot of money and never have a lot of money," says Hayman, who invests with the club.

WARM WHO?

For more than a year after they opened Zanzibar Blue, neither Robert nor Ben took a single day off. Not one in 365. Zanzibar is one of the few restaurants that is open for dinner seven days a week, plus brunch on Sundays. One or both brothers is on the premises during each of those meals. These days, Ben takes Mondays off, Robert takes Tuesdays. Ben has even managed to slip in a few four-day vacations in recent years.

Zanzibar Blue, one of the city's few real late-night dinner spots, prides itself on staying open to the bitter end, even if just one table is occupied. A typical workday begins at 4 p.m., or noon if there's a weekly staff meeting, and doesn't end until 3 or 4 the following morning. "It's such a rigorous pace," says Ben. "I'm sure each year is taking years off our lives. From the time you wake up until the time you go to steep at night, you're consumed with it."

By year four at Zanzibar Blue, the brothers had begun pursuing their next idea: a blues and soul food spot. The menu is built on the food they grew up on. The music, they felt, was a natural match with the down-home cuisine. And, on a more important note, it was music they wanted to reclaim as African American although, again, they knew attracting a multiracial crowd would be a must.

"The blues has gained a large white following in recent years, much larger than the black following," says Robert, shaking his head in frustration. Just check out any of the House of Blues restaurants that have opened up in several cities. Of Warmdaddy's, whose name is that of a fictional character Robert dreamed up, he says, "It's good to see black folks come in for the food and get into the music."

But Warmdaddy's was in many ways less of a sure thing than Zanzibar Blue. With a strong track record and reputation in hand, the Bynums sought some bank financing for the $100,000 they would need to start up. "Several bankers were happy to see us walk in the door," recalls Robert. "They knew who we were, they knew Zanzibar Blue. But when it came to getting a loan, they wouldn't give us anything that wasn't fully collateralized They wouldn't take a risk on us. So we said, forget it." They opted to use their Zanzibar profits and a few loans from close friends instead. They haven't sought help from a bank since.

Space was also an issue. They were looking for a larger, more club-like facility, and, again, the location had to be right. They found it on the waterfront, at the base of I-95 bound from New Jersey and New York. A western-themed bar/restaurant called Montana's had closed down, leaving great furniture and some usable artifacts behind. It's in a high-rent area with several night-time destinations that draw tourists, but one not as central as they might have liked.

Daniels, of the city's convention and visitors bureau (on whose board Robert sits), admits, "I was worried about Warmdaddy's. A lot of clubs have not been successful in that location. But it has worked. Warmdaddy's is a place people want to go. They pull in a great crowd."

They have been smarter about offsetting the entertainment cost at Warmdaddy's. For starters, there's a cover charge for entertainment. There's also a concession stand by the door that sells Warmdaddy's T-shirts, caps, mugs and the like. The merchandise moves, helping to boost Warmdaddy's profit margin to around 5%.

Validation for Warmdaddy's came early. Another African American-themed restaurant opened at roughly the same time. Called Heritage, it was well financed and preceded by a good deal of media fanfare. But it was not black-owned, and not well perceived or received by the community - black or white. After four months, it closed. Before closing, the owners offered the Bynums a deal to operate but not own it. They passed. Ultimately, the Bynums sought to buy them out completely, says Robert, but the deal fell through.

IT'S A PRIDE

THING

Where Zanzibar Blue has a hold on their hearts, in Warmdaddy's, the Bynums have found more of a straight business, and one that they believe is easily duplicated, because of the lower price and simple style of the food. They are still working on the staff (they recently sent them all to dinner at Zanzibar Blue to see service done right), and on standardizing the formula so they can pursue franchising.

They also have other ideas - for an upscale black dance club or a place that combines Caribbean food and reggae entertainment. They have considered getting into the management side of the entertainment business, since they have relationships with so many local and up-and-coming musical acts. Of course, turning their attention to such ventures would mean taking time away from what they have. They have reached the point where, with 100-plus employees, they have people in place to whom they can, and do, delegate - operations managers Harry Hayman and Zoe Ashby in particular, and, of course, their dad.

In the meantime, though, they show no signs of easing up. In fact, their hands are beyond full, leaving them little time to reflect on what they've accomplished so far. It's not really their style to do so anyway.

When pressed, though, they acknowledge having achieved their initial goat. "We never set out to be considered good in the context of black restaurants," says Ben. "We wanted to be considered good in the context of all restaurants, and we are."

At the same time, Robert adds, "It's very important to us that people know unquestionably that we're African American-owned. It says to white people, `we can do it on our own.' And it says to black people - well, it's a pride thing."