Since 1961, when the first building in Peachtree Center was completed, Portman and various partners have acquired at least 15 blocks of downtown Atlanta. As an architect, he certainly has in mind a specific role for the downtown: a place to work, to shop and perhaps also to recreate. But he wants people to perform these activities in a comfortable and safe environment. He envisioned this environment at a much larger scale than a single building could satisfy. This is where his commitment to being a developer paid off. The Merchandise Mart, the largest building in the Southeast when it was built, has doubled in size and two more marts have been added to the complex called the Atlanta Market Center. By controlling both architecture and development, as Jonathan Barnett has pointed out in The Architect as Developer, " Portman has found new ways to give amenity and coherence to our everyday environment."

No one can ignore the influence that Portman's innovative architectural features have had on the everyday activities that take place in Atlanta's downtown. As Paul Goldberger recently pointed out in his article "Atlanta is Burning," Portman filled Atlanta with buildings that brought the suburban mall to the center of downtown. Goldberger is highly critical of the activities generated by Portman's buildings, especially the ones that are in the form of multi-tower groupings. He finds it natural that this kind of architecture was born in a city in which "the suburban mentality predominates, a city in which making daily life feel smooth is generally a first priority, and where people are most comfortable sticking to their own." Goldberger implies that Portman's architecture creates racial segregation by providing a safe and controlled environment for Atlanta's middle-class. Many critics have even called these buildings "urban fortresses," accusing Portman for "creating death in the heart of our cities" (Arthur Frommer, 1987).

Despite Portman's conviction that "we are not turning our back on the city; we want to pull things together and make them work," his "mega-structures" are seen by many to "reflect the designer's hostility to the cities he professes to save." These critics claim that the everyday activities of Atlanta's downtown are controlled by the atriums and pedestrian corridors and the end result is anti-city. But these critics also have a preconceived idea about the function and form of a city-center. Like Portman, they too expect and demand specific activities in a downtown. While Portman considers the space within the building as a refuge from the harsh environment of a downtown, for his critics, it is this harshness that defines the character of a downtown. Golderger notes that "when it comes to a choice between dogwoods outside the window or a good symphony downtown- well, sophisticated Atlantans would like to have both, but if forced to choose, there would be no contest." At the heart of this criticism is a pre-conceived idea that most people have about how life should be in a city and more specifically within a city's downtown, at least for the sophisticated middle-class! Moreover, this argument completely ignores the existence of Atlanta Symphony Orchestra and does not appreciate the fact that the inhabitants of Atlanta have creatively combined their love for "dogwoods" with their desire for sophistication by taking the Symphony to the park. (During the summer, the centrally located Piedmont Park hosts several free concerts.)