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Phoenix MetroCenter

By Jessica Testa
December 17, 2020
Excerpts from "Auctioning Off a Dead Mall"

Two weeks ago, in Phoenix, auctioning began at the vacant Metrocenter mall, which closed in June, and will continue on a weekly basis through January. By then, the auctioneers expect to have listed about 1,000 lots.

So far their catalog has included a collection of 37 fire extinguishers (sold for $140); a neon Wetzel’s Pretzels sign ($750); a large mall directory ($275); a security system of cages so large they can only be described as multi-human size ($325). Upcoming items include 25 food court tables; the plexiglass bins that held candy in a candy store; the contents of an empty Victoria’s Secret; a lot of nine mannequin torsos (six female, three male).

When it opened in 1973, Metrocenter was Arizona’s largest mall, a symbol of new affluence in a suburbanized desert. Inside, families skated on an ice rink; outside, teenagers cruised around the parking lot (and, as adults, were inspired to cruise again — “one last cruise!” — when they heard Metrocenter was closing).

In some corridors of Metrocenter, the floors are covered in plastic BBs from a recent airsoft game — which is similar to paintball (without the paint) and simulates military combat. At an auction preview last week, small white balls crunched underfoot.

Somewhere in the mall, a radio played the Cranberries’ Linger, which echoed eerily off the walls, stretching as far as it could through 1.3 million square feet. While most Metrocenter stores were stripped of anything but lights and displays (and those mannequins), their back rooms look ransacked, as if they’d been quickly abandoned.

Documents were thrown on the floor or left forgotten on a desk. Here was someone’s résumé: a 2014 graduate whose skills included self-motivation and graphic design. There was a letter from the corporation commission, informing a jewelry store that its article of organization had been approved.

Some people remember the ice skating rink. Others remember the huge fountain that did timed shows, spitting water up and up, as high as the second floor, before it came crashing down onto tile with loud splats. The fountain was covered years ago.