A Monument to Shopping—The Rise of Southlake Mall
The land was open, flat, and waiting. Before 1974, what stood at the intersection of U.S. Route 30 and Interstate 65 wasn’t much—just stretches of undeveloped space in Ross Township. But Richard E. Jacobs had a vision.
His firm, Jacobs Visconsi Jacobs, saw something others didn’t: a shopping complex that could pull in not only local residents but customers from Chicago’s south suburbs.
The plan was bold. The company broke ground in 1973, promising an enclosed shopping mall with two massive anchors—JCPenney and Sears—attracting national brands under one roof.
When the doors opened in 1974, shoppers arrived in force. It wasn’t just another mall—it was the biggest retail center in Northwest Indiana.
JCPenney stood on the west end, Sears on the east, and between them stretched a gleaming commercial hub filled with department stores, shoe shops, and jewelry counters.
Early tenants included Woolworth, The Limited, and Chess King, catering to a mix of families and fashion-conscious teens.
The tile floors gleamed, escalators hummed, and the air smelled of warm pretzels.
But malls don’t stand still. In 1978, L.S. Ayres arrived, another anchor in an already growing lineup.
It wasn’t just about adding stores—it was about keeping shoppers inside, giving them more to see, more to spend on, and fewer reasons to leave.
By the early ’90s, big-box names began appearing outside the main structure. On March 12, 1993, Kohl’s opened a two-level store in the parking lot.
That same year, Target Greatland took over a prime spot east of Sears. In 1994, Gander Mountain moved into the southwest corner.
These weren’t just new stores—they were strategic plays, matching the way people shopped.
By 1995, Southlake was thriving. It was the region’s retail anchor.
The Home Depot arrived in July of that year, another heavyweight in the growing cluster of national chains.
The mall wasn’t just about fashion anymore—it was a one-stop destination.
It became a common response to the weekend question: “What’s there to do?” The answer: things to do in Merrillville, Indiana, almost always included a trip to Southlake.
Ownership Shuffles and Retail Expansion
The name on the front changed, but the business stayed the same. By the late ’90s, Richard E. Jacobs was ready to move on.
Southlake Mall had been his firm’s project for over two decades, but in 1999, it went on the market.
No one bit right away. The sale didn’t close until 2002, when the Westfield Group took over, adding the property to its growing portfolio of shopping centers.
With new ownership came a rebrand—Westfield Shoppingtown Southlake. No one used the full name, though. To shoppers, it was still just Southlake.
Westfield had money to spend, and in 2006, they put it into the mall. A new expansion brought in Dick’s Sporting Goods and Borders, stretching the mall’s footprint even further.
The bookstore, which sat near the entrance, became a draw for weekend browsers and coffee drinkers.
Out in the parking lot, new buildings popped up—Chipotle, Potbelly, and Buffalo Wild Wings giving visitors more places to eat.
On the eastern edge, AMC opened a 12-screen theater, turning Southlake into an all-day destination.
The mix worked. The mall stayed busy.
The bookstore didn’t last, though. By 2011, Borders was in trouble. The entire chain was going under, and Southlake’s location shut down with the rest.
A few months later, Books-A-Million moved in, keeping the space from sitting empty too long.
Meanwhile, Westfield had its own plans. In 2013, the company sold Southlake to Starwood Capital, shifting focus to other markets.
The sale meant another name change, though this time, it was a return to the original. Southlake Mall was back.
Retailers kept coming. In 2014, Forever 21 took over the old Books-A-Million space, and a year later, H&M opened in the same wing.
Even as department stores struggled nationwide, Southlake still felt like a stronghold.
Anchor Store Closures and Changing Retail Strategies
Then the exits started.
Carson Pirie Scott, a name that had been part of Southlake for decades, was the first big loss.
In April 2018, its parent company, The Bon-Ton Stores, announced bankruptcy. That summer, the store shut its doors for good.
It wasn’t just another empty space—it was one of the mall’s anchors, a store that had once drawn in steady traffic.
A year later, another pillar fell. In August 2019, Sears confirmed what felt inevitable—it was closing. The brand had been unraveling for years, its once-packed aisles now a shadow of what they had been.
Store after store had vanished nationwide. Now, Southlake’s location was next.
Southlake’s Sears had been there from the beginning, one of the mall’s original two anchors when it opened in 1974.
But by November, the signs were gone, and another anchor space sat vacant.
Then Dick’s Sporting Goods left—but not because of financial trouble. In September 2021, the company announced it was moving to a standalone location across the street at the Crossings at Hobart.
Retail was shifting. Brands no longer saw enclosed malls as their best option. Instead, they wanted their own buildings, bigger parking lots, and more visibility.
By 2022, Southlake had three empty anchor spots. The closures left gaps, both physically and financially.
A mall that had once been fully occupied now had darkened storefronts where major retailers used to be.
The remaining stores kept business going, but foot traffic wasn’t what it used to be.
The mall wasn’t dead, but it wasn’t the powerhouse it once was.
Reinventing the Empty Spaces
An empty storefront doesn’t bring in revenue. After Carson’s, Sears, and Dick’s Sporting Goods left, Southlake Mall had more than 300,000 square feet sitting idle.
That’s a lot of unused space—and a problem for any mall trying to stay relevant.
The traditional department store model wasn’t working, so new ideas had to take its place. CubeWork saw an opening.
In November 2022, the flexible workspace company announced plans to turn the vacant Carson’s into something completely different: a mix of pop-up retail, co-working offices, and sports event space.
The concept launched quickly—just two weeks later, the doors opened to businesses looking for short-term leases and remote workers tired of home offices.
Kids Empire moved in around the same time. The family entertainment chain took over part of the old Dick’s Sporting Goods, transforming it into an indoor playground and party zone.
Bright colors, climbing structures, and slides replaced the aisles of athletic gear.
It wasn’t retail, but it brought in foot traffic, and that was the priority.
Even with the changes, Southlake wasn’t immune to more closures. In April 2024, Express shut down, part of the retailer’s nationwide bankruptcy.
Green Fields Trading Company, a longtime tenant, followed soon after.
Southlake Mall at 50—A Celebration, A Crossroads
The banners went up, and the speeches were made.
September 18, 2024, marked a milestone—Southlake Mall had reached its 50th year—a half-century of shoppers, seasonal trends, grand openings, and quiet closures.
The event brought out a mix of longtime visitors and new faces, some looking back on what the mall had been, others wondering what it might become.
Inside, the energy felt familiar. General Manager spoke about resilience—how the mall had adapted, how it would keep adapting.
But even as balloons hung from the rafters, some storefronts told another story.
Green Fields Trading Company, a fixture for more than 30 years, has announced its closure.
Shelves once crammed with incense, tie-dye shirts, and ’60s throwbacks now sat bare.
Green Fields Trading Company was finished—another casualty of a retail world that had moved on.
Its departure left more than an empty storefront; it was a reminder that Southlake’s identity was still shifting, whether it wanted to or not.
That shift wasn’t all loss. New events kept drawing crowds, including KixCon, a sneaker convention that turned Southlake into a hub for streetwear and collectibles.
It was a different kind of traffic—less about casual browsing and more about destination shopping.
The question hung in the air: Was this a new chapter or just an effort to hold on?
The mall had seen waves of change before. But at 50, it stood at a crossroads, half museum, half experiment, waiting to see what the next wave would bring.