Dallas City Hall, the iconic brutalist building that served as the dystopian corporate headquarters in the 1987 sci-fi cult classic RoboCop, is facing a critical crossroads. The imposing structure, designed by acclaimed architect I.M. Pei, now requires between $50-100 million in deferred maintenance and repairs, according to city leaders. What was once envisioned as a symbol of civic pride and forward-thinking design may now be at risk of demolition or repurposing.
Unlike New York City's Empire State Building or Los Angeles' Griffith Observatory, both celebrated landmarks with rich Hollywood histories, Dallas struggles with maintaining its architectural claim to fame. The seven-story building, which opened in 1978 after a $70 million construction project that began in 1972, has suffered from decades of neglect and deterioration. City officials describe a cascade of problems including a roof that needs complete replacement, an outdated air conditioning system, and a reflecting pool that leaks into the underground parking garage.
Reagan Rothenberger, a member of the Dallas Landmark Commission who authored a letter requesting landmark designation for the building, points to additional issues such as dirty windows, burned-out lighting, poor signage, and outdated bathrooms. The situation became particularly embarrassing last summer when city councilmember Gay Donnell Willis got stuck in an elevator. "The plaza is literally pulling away from the building," said councilmember Chad West, who represents Dallas' District 1. "The building is a mess of our own doing," Rothenberger added. "We have failed to demand the maintenance of this building appropriately."
City officials explain that the deterioration stems from prioritizing residents' needs over municipal building upkeep. West and others say they have focused funding on public safety, parks, and infrastructure rather than city hall maintenance. "It's like when you're a mom," said six-year councilmember Paula Blackmon, who represents the city's District 9. "You take care of everything else and forget to take care of yourself." Additionally, the structure has proven inadequate for housing all municipal offices, despite Pei's original design accommodating southward expansion that never materialized. As a result, some Dallas city services are scattered throughout the city.
The building's origins trace back to one of America's darkest moments. On November 22, 1963, shots fired from the sixth floor of the Texas School Book Depository killed President John F. Kennedy and seriously wounded Texas Governor John Connally as their motorcade made its final journey through downtown Dallas. The assassination left the city with the painful moniker "City of Hate." Several years later, as part of concerted efforts to rehabilitate Dallas' reputation, Mayor Erik Jonsson recruited I.M. Pei, a rising architectural star whom Jacqueline Kennedy had chosen to design her husband's memorial library in Boston.
"A dark cloud loomed over Dallas for many years," explained Greg Johnston, board chair of Preservation Dallas, a nonprofit promoting preservation and revitalization of historic city sites. City leaders hoped the new municipal structure would symbolize "the city's strength and resilience." The resulting building became a fascinating architectural statement with its seemingly gravity-defying facade that slopes outward at a 34-degree angle, with each floor more than nine feet wider than the one below. The mayor's incredulous reaction to the building's top-heavy form reportedly prompted Pei's team to add three cylindrical pillars that appear to bear the load while actually providing only visual support.
Architecture Week described the completed structure in 2009 as "a fascinating amalgam, equal parts raw truth and magic." However, public opinion remained divided. While Pei went on to design renowned landmarks including the Louvre Pyramid in Paris and Cleveland's Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Dallas City Hall became a love-it-or-hate-it affair. Some consider it art, others view it as a monstrosity, though one publication ranked it among the nation's most beautiful city halls.
The building's imposing appearance as an "architectural bully," as the Paris Review once characterized it, "dwarfing the individual and threatening to crush all who dare enter," made it perfect for Hollywood. Filmmakers selected it as the stand-in for Omni Consumer Products' fictional Detroit headquarters in RoboCop, a cautionary tale about a cyborg police officer in a futuristic corporate police state. "In RoboCop, it's even more dystopian," observed Blake Kimzey, whose 2022 short story about a retiring Dallas City Hall maintenance worker gifted a replica RoboCop suit was published in D Magazine. "It's not a beautiful building, but it's memorable."
Kimzey, now Dallas-based executive director of a creative writing school program, grew up in small-town North Texas during the 1980s. "We thought we were going to get snatched by satanists or die from killer bee stings," he recalled. "RoboCop seemed to tap into those bad headlines. It hammered home the point of the city being more foreboding and that things were going to get worse."
Now city leaders face difficult decisions about the building's future. In recent interviews, West, who chairs the council's finance committee, has openly wondered whether officials should consider relocating operations and "repurposing" the site. Some fear this could lead to the building's sale and even demolition to accommodate new development, particularly given the ongoing $3.7 billion renovation and expansion of the nearby convention center, a voter-approved project that will free up land for development as part of reimagining downtown Dallas.
"City Hall could be utilized in addition to part of that, either to be part of the expansion or for the land to be used for something else," West told USA TODAY. "It's not for the city council to decide on demolition. Our job is to determine whether the city needs to stay in this building." The council's finance committee is scheduled to meet on October 21 to review potential maintenance and repair costs and discuss possible next steps.
The available options likely won't prove popular, West acknowledged, whether involving a bond election or tax increase. While the city could sell some unutilized real estate holdings, that would only partially cover the costs. "We may have to find other offices," Blackmon said. "There's tons of real estate downtown. I'm going in with an open mind. But if we're going to stay here, we need to fix it up."
Local opposition to potential demolition is growing. Katrina Whatley, a local realtor and community organizer who ran against West for the District 1 seat, believes the building has significant architectural and symbolic value. She describes talk of repurposing the site as "nothing more than Dallas City Councilspeak for enriching developers." Rudy Karimi, a member of Dallas' park and recreation board and another civic activist expressing cynicism about the site's possible sale, hopes city leaders can balance preserving Dallas City Hall's significance while modernizing it for contemporary operational needs. "With thoughtful planning, it can serve the city effectively without losing what makes it unique or demolishing it entirely," Karimi said.
While the building holds special meaning for RoboCop fans worldwide, they acknowledge the reality of the situation. Johan Hoff, the Sweden-based moderator of two related fan sites, told USA TODAY: "We are not oblivious to the fact that time moves on. Movie locations come and go. If Dallas City Hall is ultimately torn down, it will be a sad day for Robo fans, but the building will live on onscreen."
Preservationists are fighting to prevent that outcome. Rothenberger said when he asked the commission to act, "I did so with an eye toward this very day." The landmark designation process began in March. Dallas, he noted, has a long history of moving on to the next shiny project. "Dallas City Hall looked like an easy target," Rothenberger said. "I hate to say that I was right. The greatest historic buildings survive today because someone spoke out for them. The future residents of Dallas deserve an iconic building for their seat of government – not an office tower."
His January 15 letter to Dallas' office of historic preservation argued that the structure, while only 46 years old, meets multiple landmark eligibility criteria. Rothenberger noted that Boston City Hall, another brutalist-style building with its own share of detractors, will soon receive Boston landmark designation. "There's the old phrase, 'You can't fight city hall,'" he wrote. "Perhaps it's time to fight for city hall."
