Titletown taboo: Inside the Packers’ recurring flirtation with a Lambeau Field dome

Imagine Mona Lisa wearing a hat.

Imagine the Pyramids of Giza with an escalator.

Imagine Lambeau Field with a roof.

Well, for almost as long as the Packers’ hallowed stadium has stitched together the grand football citadel of Green Bay, Wisconsin, that taboo notion – erecting a dome over The Frozen Tundra – has loomed as a subterranean secret.

Over many decades, indeed, the iconoclastic idea has resurfaced periodically, like mushrooms in a damp forest. The team has taken the possibility to various lengths – from idle boardroom chatter and conceptualising whispers to active planning, formal feasibility studies and architectural renderings. 

The unthinkable has never happened, of course. The Packers still play outdoors. But the heretical whim has never quite died. The mirage of a domed Lambeau Field persists in the Green Bay ether, a figment of Cheesehead fascination, and the phenomenon warrants further scrutiny. 

The first seed was actually planted more than 80 years ago, in 1943, when Packers founder Curly Lambeau predicted that, within five years, following the end of World War II, pro football owners would build roofs over their stadiums. (1) The Packers had rain insurance back then because their finances were so dependent on gameday walk-ups rather than advanced ticket sales, and Lambeau brainstormed aloud to reporters who queried the policy. (2)

Ever the visionary, Lambeau was correct – if only a little overzealous – in his prediction. Houston’s Astrodome, the world’s first domed sports stadium, opened in 1965. Dubbed The Eighth Wonder of the World, the futuristic monolith inspired awe among fans and executives alike. As Lambeau predicted, team owners yearned to join the bandwagon, titillated by the prospect of guaranteed revenues without rainouts and year-round usage beyond sports.

Compared with the Astrodome, City Stadium II in Green Bay seemed bohemian at best and rudimentary at worst. Opened in 1957 as the Packers’ third home, the 32,500-seat venue was functional and utilitarian – if a little unforgiving. The Packers traditionally split their home schedule between Green Bay and nearby Milwaukee, seeking to attract fans from a larger catchment area, but their first home sellout did not come until 1960. It was almost as if playing football outdoors, through autumn and winter, in a conurbation famed for snow, was a recipe for discomfort. Those early Packers were a tough sell. 

Nevertheless, rechristened Lambeau Field in 1965, following the death of Curly, the spartan facility on Highland Avenue provided a real home-field advantage to the Packers, led from 1959 on by Vince Lombardi, another modernising maverick. Green Bay won five championships – including the first two Super Bowls – under Lombardi’s command, and Lambeau Field became a fortress to his grandiose ambition.

Fittingly, perhaps, in August 1966, Lombardi said the Packers were considering building a dome – or a partial roof – over that fortress. “It’s just in the talking stage,” said the head coach and general manager, before sharing his vision of a retractable covering with openings at either end. (3) (4) Such an addition would take two years to build, Lombardi ventured, and the team reportedly had $3.2 million in liquid assets to expend on such lavish schemes. (3) (5)

In the end, Lombardi’s roof never came to pass. A year after he floated the idea, Green Bay beat Dallas, 21-17, in the fabled Ice Bowl – an NFL Championship Game played in -25°c conditions at Lambeau. The vignettes of frozen glory became embedded in the Packers’ mystique, and talk of a dome fizzled out as Green Bay’s climate became a distinguishing asset. 

The amorphous concept of a Lambeau dome never quite died, however. In fact, the nebulous, shimmering idea became a common cudgel brandished by opportunistic schemers grappling for leverage. In the 1970s, for instance, a group of businessmen approached the Packers’ board of directors with elaborate plans for a domed stadium. (6) Those plans were seemingly dismissed, but a roof – or at least the transient possibility of a roof – continued to animate team executives.

The Packers’ own 1977 yearbook mentioned a dome, though only to say it ‘appears to be well into the future,’ amid Lambeau Field renovations. (7) The following year, during a stadium tour, Alderman Eddie Bodart mentioned ‘spending a couple of hundred dollars’ for a roof, only to be chastised by Stadium Commission officials who managed Lambeau Field. (2) Still, the hypothesis was discussed semi-regularly in board meetings, and different camps emerged within the team’s hierarchy – as within its fanbase.

The Astrodome welcomed an NFL team – the Houston Oilers – in 1968, and mutually beneficial ambition among team owners drove football stadiums into a new, commercially savvy realm. Stylish and sophisticated, Texas Stadium gave the Cowboys a partially covered canvas made for sponsorship. Cavernous and versatile, the Lions’ Pontiac Silverdome welcomed Led Zeppelin as part of its money-spinning remit. Then came the Superdome in New Orleans – a colossal megalith conceived to outdo the Houston original.

Amid that architectural arms race, in the early 1980s, whispers about the potential for a Lambeau dome grew loud enough to warrant comment from John Torinus, a member of the Packers’ executive board. “It would make more sense to put a dome over the stadium in Milwaukee since the Packers play only four or five games in Green Bay,” said Torinus, rubbishing the idea. (2) Behind the scenes, however, team officials had reached out to architects and engineering firms for initial proposals on how a roof could theoretically be added to Lambeau. Moreover, Packer personnel toured the Pontiac Silverdome to see how that facility operated, commencing due diligence. (8)

Subsequently, in August 1982, Geiger Berger Associates – a New York firm of architects specialising in air-supported roofs – delivered a feasibility report to the Packers outlining potential solutions to the dome question. (1) In addition to renderings of a cable-restrained fabric roof, Geiger Berger outlined how executives should consider ‘trade and travel shows, exhibitions, concerts, rodeos, horse shows, etc, as offseason users of the facility in determining the cost-effectiveness of encapsulating Lambeau Field.’ (8) Seemingly, any such cost-effectiveness calculation nixed the idea, because little was heard of the engagement again.

Indeed, while reported in passing by the Green Bay Press-Gazette contemporaneously, actual details of the feasibility study were only revealed years later by sheer serendipity. Glen Christensen, a Packers memorabilia collector, happened upon an old copy of the Geiger Berger report – complete with drawings and measurements – at a local garage sale. Christensen bought the sequestered document for $5, and only his going public provided a glimpse behind the curtain into just how serious the Packers were about at least exploring a Lambeau dome. (9)

Christensen leafed through the report for a video published by ThePostGame, but to my knowledge, the full document has never been accessed by journalists or made available for public consumption. (9) Until now. While delving into the Packers’ dome dilemma, I reached out to the renamed Geiger Engineers and liaised with David Campbell, a principal who joined the firm in 1979. Hillary Oliver, a Geiger administrative assistant, then searched the firm’s paper archives and provided a scanned copy of the fabled feasibility study for my nerdy delectation.

Consisting of 28 pages, and replete with stunning detail, the Geiger report is a rare time capsule of a relatively unknown chapter in the life of America’s most storied football stadium. Evocative sketches – authored by The Eggers Group, another New York architectural firm – depict Lambeau Field with a tapestry-like roof, and the study is divided into 10 sections, with consideration of stadium upgrades, project phasing and indicative costs. (10)

“Geiger Berger Associates, P.C., has been retained by the Packer organisation to study the feasibility of encapsulating Lambeau Field with an air-supported cable restrained fabric roof,” says the report, prepared with help from Tom Miller, assistant to Packers president Robert Parins. “Concomitant with the roof study, Geiger Berger analysed additional alternatives to improve the serviceability of the stadium. (10)

“At Lambeau Field, encapsulation will be accomplished with a double skin roof of Teflon-coated fibreglass fabric with a layer of translucent insulation between layers,” the report states. “The roof is supported by air pressurising the stadium and restrained by a steel cable net. The fabric and restraining cables are suspended from a precast concrete ring beam of funicular plan configuration carried on paired steel columns above the existing seating. The side walls of the stadium are enclosed with precast concrete panels carried on the same columns.

“The encapsulation of the stadium with a fabric roof allows significantly improved climate conditions compared to open stadiums. Precipitation is eliminated, yet the translucency of the waterproof roof material allows natural and uniform illumination levels inside during daytime hours that are ideal for sports activities.

“Encapsulating Lambeau Field necessitates the replacement of the natural playing surface with synthetic turf. The climactic advantages of encapsulation are many, both for the players and the spectators. The most salient advantage is the opportunity for the players to exhibit their talents and mastery of the game under the best possible playing conditions.” (10)

Geiger provided a total cost estimate – prepared by Huber Hunt & Nichols – of $36,465,100 for the entire renovation project. The ‘stadium roof, thermal and moisture protection’ accounted for $8,727,000 of that quote. Evidently, such a figure was deemed prohibitive, and the Packers decided to incrementally tweak Lambeau Field – adding seats, upgrading amenities and carving out private boxes – rather than redraw or replace it entirely. (10)

As the venue morphed more into a contemporary hub while preserving its nostalgic authenticity, talk of a dome returned periodically, but logistics – as much as any supposed football religiosity – always got in the way. “It’s been discussed for a long time,” the Packers acknowledged in their own 1987 yearbook, for example. “It could still be done, even with the private boxes. But we have found it difficult to believe with just six dates a year, a dome would be the answer.” (4)

Still, the prospect of an enclosed Lambeau Field was often used as a lever in negotiations between the team and city for renovation packages and blue-sky discussions about a potential replacement stadium altogether. Amid such chatter, in 1992, the Press-Gazette polled readers on sentiments surrounding a dome versus a new stadium. “Forget it,” one fan, Julie Farah, said. “If you want a dome, move to Houston.” (11)

That view was echoed by some senior Packers executives. “To do that to Lambeau Field would be a sin,” said team president Bob Harlan of relentless roof paranoia. “To me, football is meant to be played outside. If I talked about putting a dome on the stadium, I’m not sure I could walk to the office building from my car and still be alive.” (8) 

That said, the Packers ended their split home schedule arrangement with Milwaukee in 1995, making Lambeau their exclusive home, and a boom in stadium design kept possible redevelopment on the agenda. Harlan had the unenviable task of continuously searching for novel ways to wring value from the Packers’ fan-owned business model, and doing so without altering the sacred stadium beyond recognition remained a ubiquitous challenge.

To that end, in 2000, the Packers proposed a $295 million renovation package that would add more premium seating, luxury boxes, concessions upgrades and a centrepiece atrium to Lambeau Field. In theory, the scheme would be funded – partially – by the introduction of personal seat licenses, while stimulus would also come from public money, raised by increasing the Brown County sales tax by 0.5%.

That plan did not sit well with Tom Dobesh, a Green Bay real estate broker who put forth an alternative proposal via the Citizens for Responsible Government group. Dobesh called for the replacement of Lambeau with a new domed stadium, entertainment amenities and residential complexes. Armed with renderings of a hypothetical arena, Dobesh lobbied at local public meetings, arguing that his ‘Plan B’ would be cheaper and generate new revenues from the sale of naming rights. (2)

In all honesty, few took Dobesh seriously, but he vowed to petition for support, regardless. In October 2000, though, his eventual petition was struck out by a city court, which ruled that too many of its signatures were from non-Green Bay residents. And besides, Dobesh sought support for actions over which the city had no control. His proposed scheme was bonkers, to eschew legalese in favour of layman language, and a Brown County referendum passed the sales tax increase to enable the Lambeau renovations. (2)

Since then, and with additional rafts of subtle upgrades, Lambeau has remained steadfast as a feted landmark. This century, little serious effort has been made to revive calls for a dome – save for occasional snarky blog posts and satirical sports talk radio calls whenever the Packers lose in cold weather. Ultimately, though, the concept of a dome withered on the vine – an uncomfortable relic of a bygone age. 

Nowadays, it may not even be structurally possible to add a roof to such an ageing building that has been renovated in an incremental fashion. Besides, revenues generated from those renovations – chiefly the private boxes and atrium, which houses stores, restaurants and the Packers’ Hall of Fame – have helped close the gap to glitzier rivals. Assuredly, the Packers would ideally like to make more money from the bolder commercialisation opportunities inherent within modern stadia, but they do a whole lot better than most NFL teams, and that should not be overlooked.

Overall, however, good old-fashioned culture is the reason why Lambeau Field is still without a roof. In the 1990s and 2000s, we learned to treasure the past, and an appreciation of nostalgia was baked into vogue stadium design. Fenway Park became America’s Most Beloved Ballpark™ with a sellout streak of 820 consecutive games attributable to carefully curated ambiance. Similarly, Wrigley Field became a cherished destination, with clocks suspended in a happier time. Even new ballparks had a retro feel, as exemplified by Camden Yards in Baltimore, and a collective yearning for authentic idiosyncrasy trumped the outmoded quest for identikit monetisation.

In that regard, leaning into Lambeau Field as a rustic jewel – rough and ready, cold and brutal, with the same steel vomitories your grandpa shovelled snow off – burnished the Packers’ lyrical mystique. The hyperbole of a more innocent era mythologised past snow games and imbued the Ice Bowl with fresh, sacrosanct meaning, to a point where outdoor winter games at Lambeau became synonymous with the team’s bohemian miasma.

Sure, ticket prices were raised to exorbitant levels as team officials lured with Wisconsin snow the same tourists who ogled Fenway’s Green Monster and Wrigley’s patented ivy. Diehard fans were undoubtedly priced out amid such a commodification of sentiment, and that sucks. Taken together, though, the notion of a dome atop Lambeau Field eventually became the incongruous and insulting provocation we feel today, and if expensive tickets are the price we must pay to preserve the stadium’s sanctity, the trade-off is at least understandable.

In an alternative universe, of course, the Packers could be playing in a swanky new arena that still gauges fans, as punters in Buffalo, San Francisco and Dallas will attest. On another plane entirely, meanwhile, Lambeau Field could today be encapsulated in Teflon, with a rotating schedule of events – exhibitions and concerts, rodeos and horse shows – traversing the artificial turf.

There is plenty to be grateful for, then. Not everything is about money. The Packers’ counter-culturalism is worth more than cash in the bank. Regardless of outcome, a Lambeau snow game is one of the last pure joys in sports. I, for one, am glad we still get to savour those special occasions. Some would have put a lid on them forever.

Sources

1. NBC 26 Green Bay. [Online] January 3, 2024. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0qKfI4ZVGT4.

2. UK Packers. [Online] May 5, 2025. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gnQVAZT2rVs.

3. Associated Press. [Online] August 10, 1966. https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=BCEsAAAAIBAJ&pg=PA8&dq=%22lambeau+field%22+%2B+%22dome%22&article_id=6053,1410347&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwi7167oi7SXAxW-RPEDHbDCG2QQ6AF6BAgSEAM#v=onepage&q=%22lambeau%20field%22%20%2B%20%22dome%22&f=false.

4. Green Bay Packers Yearbook. 1987.

5. Dowling, Tom. Coach: A Season with Lombardi. 1970.

6. Howard, Johnette. Sports Illustrated. [Online] January 13, 1997. https://www.google.co.uk/books/edition/Sports_Illustrated_The_Football_Vault/_RG3EQAAQBAJ?hl=en&gbpv=1&dq=%22lambeau+field%22+%2B+%22dome%22&pg=PT80&printsec=frontcover.

7. Green Bay Packers Yearbook. 1977.

8. Prestergard, Steve. [Online] January 5, 2024. https://steveprestegard.com/2024/01/05/the-lambeau-dome/.

9. ThePostGame. YouTube. [Online] November 9, 2015.

10. Geiger Berger Associates. Lambeau Field Feasibility Study. 1982.

11. Walter, Tony. Green Bay Press-Gazette. [Online] August 21, 1992.