Deep in the bowels of my filing cabinet — the dark corners where the work of blue ribbon committees goes to die — is a report, compiled in 1962, called "The missing link." It has nothing to do with Darwinism and everything to do with the evolution of a metropolitan area.

It also has some relevance this month as we note the 40th anniversary of the completion of the first phase of the Salt Palace Convention Center, complete with the arena most of today's teenagers never remember seeing because it met the wrecking ball 15 years ago.

That arena was the "missing link," the thing keeping the Salt Lake area from reaching its potential as a big-time player in the community of American metropolitan areas; the thing keeping it "off the map," as people are fond of saying.

That may sound vaguely familiar. We've been told about a lot of missing links through the years. The Winter Olympics was a big one. It put this area on the international map — well, at least for a season. The E Center was supposed to fill in a link for West Valley City and for hockey, which lost a good home when the Salt Palace arena left. Now the city owns 40 percent of the hockey team in lieu of debt payments.

And, of course, Rio Tinto Stadium in Sandy was supposed to be the missing catalyst for Sandy. That venture has just begun.

Bureaucrats and politicians, it seems, are trained to see more missing links than golf course architects.

But when I flip through the "missing link" report, I'm struck by how many of its arguments turned out to be true. I'm also struck by how modest the claims are.

The convention center would bring people to town who otherwise would not come, and this would "increase the flow of money into the valley." The arena could house church tournaments. Maybe, just maybe, it "one day could become the home of a professional Salt Lake hockey team." It would be a place for traveling shows, concerts and nonprofit events.

And there were predictions of intangible benefits. "It can be a landmark of pride, bringing a common sense of achievement and uniting a citizenry in their enjoyment of the facility." The committee that compiled the report didn't even consider professional basketball, which has served to do this, and more.

It's easy to look at the report and say those civic leaders long ago had the right idea. The trouble is, since the early '60s, publicly funded arenas have popped out of the ground nationwide like toadstools after a summer rain. No longer are large cities demanding them for civic pride, suburbs and team owners are, too.