City Center today is downtown Minneapolis’ biggest mistake. But remember the block’s good old days?

There’s talk of a new basketball arena for the Timberwolves and Lynx, and that immediately raises the question, why?

People who pay little attention to these matters might wonder why the Target Center, which is the NBA’s second oldest venue, needs replacing. Didn’t it get a $140 million face-lift that was completed only in 2017? And didn’t that bring additions of a skyway from Ramp A and a two-story atrium? Another stadium? Again?

But then when the idea that a new stadium could be built on the site of the City Center complex was floated by the website Axios, it ignited an interest.

People who have walked past the blank, dull bunker walls of the complex, made up of the 51-story 33 South Sixth Street tower, a Marriott hotel and three-level interior court with retail, for decades might offer to start hacking down the downtown Minneapolis structure with a pickax. It’s a dun-colored hunk, inert and depressing, and has been an aesthetic black hole on the mall since it was built in 1983.

Older readers may recall what the block was like before City Center. It was everything we supposedly want a city block to be. Dense, but not overwhelming. Architecturally diverse, but still consistent within the styles of prewar commercial design. A block where a stolid 1910s office space could coexist with a sleek 1930s streamlined storefront, and a spindly tower bedecked with ornamental frosting could be friends with a broad, tall hotel. Here’s a look at the City Center’s four fine faces:

On the Nicollet side, there were variety stores like W.T. Grant Co., whose windows were jammed with dishes, electronics, card tables, vases and bath towels.

On the Hennepin side, the complex housed a shoe store, a restaurant where tired shoppers could get a jolt of java at the counter, a Chinese restaurant and a movie theater with a marquee blaring the word “Gopher.” The name was chosen by a contest, and came from the University of Minnesota’s Golden Gophers football team.

On the 7th Street side, there were more movie theaters, including the Century Theatre. It morphed into the Century Cinerama in the mid-1950s, becoming the midcentury version of an Imax theater.

There was also the old Strand Theater. It was converted in 1930 to the fabled Forum Cafeteria, a riot of late Art Deco interior design where you could have a humble slice of apple pie in a mirrored wonderland straight out of a Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire movie set.

On the 6th Street side, one of the great old hotels was the Dyckman. When it opened in 1910, it featured a lobby wall made of marble, large murals, gilded ceilings with mosaic designs and a fancy wrought-iron marquee. The impressive structure with a famous Parisian-style restaurant was the place for countless anniversary dinners where Mom and Dad could dress up for a fancy night downtown.

The ordinary, glorious urbanity of the block was unparalleled. People still reminisce about Block E, the part of Hennepin Avenue between 6th and 7th streets. It had a tawdry vibe by the time the wrecking balls swung. The City Center block was different. We wouldn’t let it go today. We would regard its demolition as urban murder.

At the time of its destruction, of course, mauling a core block was progress. Cities tried to jump-start downtown vitality with indoor malls, with mega-projects that had office towers, a hotel and an anchor department store.

City Center opened strong, and for a while it hummed and buzzed. But as with Gaviidae Common across the street, and Gaviidae Common II between 5th and 6th streets on Nicollet Mall, and the Conservatory between 8th and 9th streets, and the Block E mall, it staggered, sagged, emptied and failed.

Its loss today would mean nothing to anyone.

The sticking point to this plan might be that the office tower 33 South Sixth, which originally was at 52 stories, would seem to require incorporation.

But it is such an unimaginative dullard that its omission from the skyline would not be missed in the slightest. It would be too much to ask, but if the proposal for the City Center site stripped the building down to its frame and adorned the girders with neon, signage and programmable LEDs, it would provide more interest and excitement in a single night than it has provided in its 42 years of existence.

An arena on the block would not solve the day-to-day problems of the street, and would only provide vitality on game days. But it would be an audacious rethinking of the site, and transfer some of the pre- and post-game energy to the moribund Nicollet Mall. The block will never be what it once was.

Razing City Center, however, and filling the block with a structure that would truly be a downtown destination is better than what we have today.