It’s a mall – it’s a gym – it’s my dad’s old office building?
by Amber Ortiz
What happens when a Class-A office building risks slipping into Class-B? This Summer, I saw a compelling example in New Jersey at the former Bell Labs building, where my dad worked in the 1980s. His job there is why our family moved from Florida’s Space Coast to New Jersey—the Space industry was out, Telecom was in.
Today, this corporate building has gone mixed-use and is called Bell Works. I was dubious when I heard its owners are classifying it as a “Metroburb.” New concept for me. Their website says it means “a metropolis in suburbia.” The name? Not great. The concept? Surprisingly engaging.
My dad worked at this Bell Labs building for years, and families were invited to holiday parties and events in those days, so I had been at his office many times. I remember being shocked in Grad School to see my dad’s office building in an Architecture seminar! Alas, Modernism doesn’t resonate with me, so admiration for any architectural significance of Bell Labs was in one ear out the other.
Until our recent visit. People actually go to Bell Works. They talk about it. They go there to play hoops and ping pong. I went on July 3rd with my family to see some fireworks. And with degrees in Urban Studies and Architecture, I was actively assessing the built environment and seeking to understand the zeitgeist. The raison d’etre.
Designed by Eero Saarinen in the 1960s, the building is a celebrated piece of architectural history and a community hub in Holmdel, NJ. Multiple management companies oversee retail, office space, co-working, and events—keeping it Class-A through adaptive reuse.
We went for the fireworks, and so did hundreds of carloads of other people. We all sauntered through the shops, had ice cream, debated cocktails and watched the cool kids playing VR video games. The future is here, I thought. A community center inside a designer shell in a wealthy suburb opening itself to the general public. And paying for glorious fireworks! And then after the fireworks show, reality struck. As we sat in an ocean of cars waiting to exit the very large parking lot. Womp womp.
What impresses me most is the community’s embrace of the building. Friends in NJ go there regularly. And friends on Facebook recognize the building from the TV show Severance. It’s inspiring to see a singular building like this thrive through intentional, well-funded re-use that meets real community needs.
I still wouldn’t call it a metropolis. It’s a mixed-use mall. (If you think otherwise, you can wear the Metroburb T-shirt for sale on Bell Works’s website.) But it’s a great place to meet up, walk around, and enjoy civilized life. And for me, it’s nostalgic—because my dad was there in its original hey-day. And so was I.
edited w MS Copilot