What Providence is going through is an unusually visible example of a problem facing many cities, especially since the COVID-19 pandemic: What combination of carrots and sticks can officials use to turn unwanted office space into something that suits a changing city’s needs?

Even if the building cannot be revived to its former glory, when office workers once poured out of the stunning marbled lobby during lunchtime to create a downtown buzz, surely developers and political leaders can do better.

“This becomes a symbol of this anxiety about Providence and its economic strength,” said Marisa Angell Brown, executive director of the Providence Preservation Society. “It raises that question: Has Providence turned the corner? Are we going to turn the corner?”

For years, the plan has been to redevelop the empty office tower into about 300 apartments, 20 percent of which would be below market rents, set aside for low- and moderate-income Rhode Islanders, along with commercial space on the ground floor. Ongoing squabbles about the size and scope of tax abatements from the city and state have delayed the project repeatedly. The redevelopment now hinges on a low-interest loan of up to $236 million from the US Department of Transportation, green lit for eligibility under former president Joe Biden then held up by the Trump administration.

Adding to the recent troubles, David Sweetser, the principal of High Rock Development and owner of the building since 2008, died unexpectedly last summer. The developer tapped its legal counsel, Michael Crossen, to continue with the project. A spokesperson for High Rock, Bill Fischer, told the editorial board that the firm is focused on finalizing funding details and remains “optimistic the project will proceed.” Fischer said once financing is in place, construction will be complete within 24 to 30 months.

Providence Mayor Brett Smiley is urging patience. “I think it’s fair to say that the situation is frustrating and probably that many people, myself included, are anxious to see something happen, but big historic complicated buildings sometimes require complicated solutions,” Smiley told the Globe’s editorial board.

It’s a scenario playing out in commercial spaces across the nation, with office towers selling at deep discounts as owners struggle with low occupancy rates. If Providence can find a path forward to address a housing shortage while also reviving such a high-profile building, it could become a model for cities across the nation.

Transforming office space into apartments is notoriously tricky. Office configurations come with little interior natural light and plumbing that’s largely incompatible with residential layouts. Still, studies have shown that single-room occupancy units that ring the edge of the building — with shared kitchens, bathrooms, laundry, and living rooms in the center of the building — can work.

This type of low-cost downtown housing has traditionally carried a stigma, but it could be an option for students, young professionals, new arrivals to a city, or retirees. It could also reduce homelessness. Yes, it would not be a huge money generator for a landlord hoping to charge higher rents, but public subsidies could make it work.

Most agree: Tearing down the Superman building is not a great option. In 2017, former Providence mayor turned developer Joe Paolino floated the idea of replacing it with a modern office tower for an anchor tenant, a concept that sent shudders across the city and still reverberates.

“To tear down that building in the middle of city, it would be an absolute sin,” Michael Sabitoni, the president of the Rhode Island Building and Construction Trades Council, told a Globe columnist in 2021.

Construction on the Art Deco building began in 1927. The building featured plaster, bronze work, and the very latest in modern elevator mechanics.

In 2019, the building was listed on the National Trust for Historic Preservation’s annual list of America’s 11 Most Endangered Historic Places.

The plight of the building has captivated Providence for too many years now.

In 2020, seven graduate students studying adaptive reuse at the Rhode Island School of Design reimagined uses for the Superman building. Ideas included several theaters and performance spaces, senior housing, a vertical farm, laboratories, and even an amusement park.

A recent op-ed in the Globe suggests: Stop trying to solve, and pay for, the whole building renovation at once. Activate the bottom four floors with a civic space, then let the apartments above follow.

Locals commonly ask why nearby Brown University, which has a massive endowment and needs building space, including graduate student housing, can’t make something happen.

Mayor Smiley said he thinks it’s best to stick with the current developer’s vision for apartments. “There’s a lot of external factors that unfortunately, and somewhat coincidentally, have complicated the timeline. But that doesn’t mean that it’s still not the best plan for the building.”

The mayor says he’s in regular touch with the developer. But few others seem to know what’s going on as they walk past scaffolding in the heart of downtown, and tolerance after more than a decade of delays is running thin. If the the building’s owner can’t get things moving, it should move on and let somebody else take a try at building something.

“It’s a shame that it just sits there and nobody is taking care of it,” said Behrouz Sarlak, owner of Loominous Rug Gallery, which sits a few blocks away from the Superman. “A lot can be done. You just have to be creative.”

Editorials represent the views of the Boston Globe Editorial Board. Follow us @GlobeOpinion.