How to bring so-called ‘zombie malls’ back from the dead
On a recent drive along Route 28, I passed the hulking shell of what was once the pride of Frazer Township: The Galleria at Pittsburgh Mills.
It was built with the promise of becoming a regional destination, a sparkling symbol of growth and opportunity. But today, as The Wall Street Journal recently reported, it’s a cautionary tale, with shuttered storefronts, weeds cracking through pavement, and parking lots that sit empty but for a few cars and the occasional security patrol.
The mall’s absentee owner, Namdar Realty Group, now faces more than $12 million in nuisance charges and fines. But the larger question is this: how long do we let zombie malls haunt our communities before we take bold, creative action to repurpose them?
As a trial lawyer, I see first-hand how accountability works — or doesn’t — in practice. In a courtroom, when someone’s negligence harms another person, the law steps in to make it right. But when corporate property owners drain every ounce of value from a shopping center and then walk away, local governments and residents are left holding the bag. Fines and nuisance designations are useful sticks, but they rarely force absentee landlords to invest in revitalization.
For too many communities across the country, these abandoned retail carcasses sit for years, eroding tax bases, dragging down property values and inviting crime.
The story of Pittsburgh Mills is not unique. Up to 30 percent of America’s malls are considered “at risk” or already dead. What was once the quintessential American gathering place is now an emblem of disinvestment. These hulks aren’t just eyesores — they’re civic liabilities. Municipalities lose millions in unpaid taxes, schools see diminished revenue streams, and neighbors live beside properties that feel more like hazards than assets. In Frazer Township, local officials are left to wage a legal battle against a multibillion-dollar New York company with no real ties to the community.
It’s an unfair fight — and it’s one being replicated in towns across America. So how do we shift the balance?
First, we need to rethink the legal tools available to local governments. Nuisance abatement is a start, but it’s not enough. Courts should be more willing to consider receivership — that is, appointing independent managers to take control of distressed properties when owners fail to maintain them. Eminent domain, though politically fraught, can also play a role, reclaiming land for public use when private ownership becomes a public burden. These are extraordinary remedies, yes. But the extraordinary decay of zombie malls demands more than business-as-usual fines.
Second, communities need to dream bigger about what these spaces could become. Across the country, we’ve seen creative conversions of dead malls into public assets. In Nashville, an old mall now houses government offices and a library. In Austin, another became a community college campus. Imagine what Pittsburgh Mills could be if we stopped thinking of it as a lost shopping center and started thinking of it as a foundation for affordable housing, a regional health clinic, or a workforce training hub. These aren’t pipe dreams — they’re possibilities, if we have the legal frameworks and political will to make them real.
Third, we must demand accountability from corporate landlords like Namdar, which has developed a national reputation for scooping up distressed malls on the cheap, cutting costs to the bone, and then letting properties rot.
Real estate speculation is not a crime, but there is a moral line where entire communities are left with the consequences of absentee ownership. That’s why local officials need sharper enforcement tools. State legislatures must empower municipalities to act, and courts must be willing to treat chronic neglect as more than just a slap-on-the-wrist offense.
The irony of zombie malls is that they embody both failure and opportunity. Failure, because they remind us of broken promises and hollowed-out tax bases. Opportunity, because their scale and location could, with the right vision, serve urgent community needs. In Western Pennsylvania, where we continue to grapple with inequities in health care, education and affordable housing, we can’t afford to let 200-acre properties sit idle for another generation.
The legal system has always evolved to meet new societal challenges. A century ago, we developed workplace safety laws when industrial accidents became an epidemic. Decades later, consumer protection laws arose to address corporate abuses. Today, zombie malls pose a different kind of challenge, but the principle is the same: when private neglect inflicts public harm, the law must adapt.
As someone who has spent his life in Pittsburgh, I think that Frazer Township and Allegheny County are right to push back against Namdar. But they shouldn’t have to fight this battle alone. State lawmakers should create clearer statutes for dealing with absentee commercial landlords. Courts should expand the use of receivership and public-nuisance remedies. And all of us, as residents, should demand that massive tracts of land in our communities serve the public good, not corporate neglect.
Zombie malls may look lifeless, but they don’t have to be. With legal creativity and political will, we can reanimate these spaces — not as shopping destinations, but as civic assets. Imagine driving past Pittsburgh Mills and seeing a thriving health campus, a technical training institute, or even a mixed-use community where families live, work and gather. That vision is within reach, but only if we stop waiting for absentee landlords to do the right thing, and start using every legal tool at our disposal to make it happen.
The Galleria at Pittsburgh Mills is more than a ghost story — it’s a test case. How we react to it will say a lot about whether communities like ours get swallowed by corporate neglect or rise to build something better.
Jason Matzus is an attorney with three decades of experience handling complex personal injury cases.