While I'm on a Jewish roll, how can we possibly forget about him?  How can we forget about the brief, witty exchange between Alvy and the girl at the political rally (herringbone coat time?)?  Come on, you NYC-loving Ivyists, tell me you dig him.  Ah, if only we had that Ivy time-machine: back to the era of Rothko, the cold water apartment, the deli on the corner selling pastrami and pickles...  No Starbucks...  no blandinsky... 
There's a scene in 'The Sopranos', towards the end, when Tony and Paulie take themselves off and try to find a free and easy motel they once stopped at.  Now it's poshed-up and they don't serve bottles of whisky in the rooms.  As the late, great Julian Symons said, the United States offers about fifty different types of bread, none of it fit to eat.  Is that true? 
Would Ben find a safe haven in today's world?