Sioux Falls Audio Tour: Echoes and Icons of Downtown Legends

Now, take a deep breath and imagine you’re standing here in the 1870s, when Sioux Falls was just a sleepy little frontier town. The very first church building in the whole city was built right where you’re standing—or, well, close by, because that original little church got moved (imagine the clatter and rumble as the building rolled down the street on wooden beams! ). In those early days, the Reverend W.H. Ross led services, and the church buzzed with the excitement of a new prairie community coming together. Fast forward a few years, and along comes John Jacob Astor III—a man with enough money to fill every pew twice over—and a heavy heart after losing his wife, Charlotte Augusta. Seeking to honor her memory, Astor sends generous gifts, and suddenly Sioux Falls is about to get a cathedral unlike anything the Dakotas had seen. On a chilly December day in 1888, the cornerstone was laid. The whole project cost $21,000—a jaw-dropping sum back then, enough to make even the bravest banker shake! The new cathedral opened in 1889 and was named after Astor’s wife, St. Augusta’s Church. But don’t blink, or you’ll miss the name changes—soon it’s St. Augusta’s Cathedral, then back to Calvary Cathedral, as if the building just couldn’t make up its mind.

Alright, let’s step back into early 1900s Sioux Falls. Imagine horses clip-clopping by as Lee D. Miller opens his humble livery barn and funeral home here—now, that’s not your average neighborly combo! By the 1920s, old Lee must’ve been quite the business magician, merging two rival funeral homes into his own. Things got even livelier when he brought in an all-star sidekick—his wife—who just happened to be the first woman ever licensed as an embalmer in all of South Dakota! That certainly raised some eyebrows and, I imagine, maybe even inspired a few ghost stories along Main Avenue.

Ah, welcome! Step right up to the Washington Pavilion of Arts and Science, a place with enough imagination inside to light up all of Sioux Falls. Imagine it’s 1911, and students are rushing through these halls—it was once the proud Washington High School, and if you press your ear to the cool pinkish stone, you just might hear echoes of their footsteps. This stone isn’t just any rock; it’s Sioux Quartzite, the hometown hero of building materials, giving the Pavilion its charming pink glow. There’s even a bit of black rock mixed in—the legendary corson diabase—from an era when people thought magma rock was quartzite. That’s history with a twist! Fast forward to 1999. What was once a place for pop quizzes and prom decorations, gets a dazzling new life. The Washington Pavilion opens, taking the city by storm. Your senses might tingle as you walk in—on the left, the Kirby Science Discovery Center absolutely buzzes with energy across three rollicking floors, filled with hands-on science wonders for young and old. Just imagine the buzz when local kids build rockets here! Step further and you’ll find two grand performing arts centers. Some pretty big acts and even Broadway shows strut their stuff here—plus, the South Dakota Symphony calls this home. But don’t just listen for orchestras—sometimes, you’ll catch the tap of dance shoes or the chorus of a Broadway musical. For those who love art, wander into the Visual Arts Center, where every wall changes with exciting new national, regional, and blockbuster exhibitions—think Warhol and Adams, all the way to local creators. And here’s a secret: on Tuesday and Saturday mornings, and the magical “First Fridays,” you can wander in for free.

Take a look straight ahead for a striking stone church with two uneven towers standing tall at the corners and impressive steps welcoming you right up front. Now, imagine it’s the year 1907, horses clip-clop along the street, and the aroma of pine beams and fresh-cut quartzite fills the air as the First Congregational Church rises in all its glory. This church isn’t shy—it shows off its unique towers like a pair of old friends who can’t quite agree on who’s taller. Builders wanted it to look grand and solid, a rock in the heart of Sioux Falls where neighbors could find a bit of peace and, perhaps, the best potluck in town. If you peek around the north side, you’ll find a mysterious, tower-like entrance for those who like to make a quieter entrance. In 1955, modern dreams swept in, and a brand-new wing popped up—imagine a curtain wall of glass sparkling under the prairie sun, framed in shiny aluminum. But change has its own sense of humor, and after the 1980s, even this modern wing dressed up in a stone suit to match its 1907 sibling, copying the old and waving goodbye to the future for a while. Through storms, laughter, and even style changes, this church has remained a steady guardian of stories, each stone holding secrets from a century of Sunday mornings in Sioux Falls.

Speaking of wine, you might want to tip your cap to Parker’s for turning Main Avenue from, well, a “concrete jungle” into the vibrant downtown your feet are strolling now. In 2009, this bistro took a leap few dared, and with the clink of cocktail glasses, helped awaken the heart of the city. Picture nights filled with laughter, people rediscovering the magic of Main Avenue, a place that used to be more “meh” than memorable. Fast-forward to 2022, and the story grows. That’s when Parker’s Bistro expanded, renovating the Frye Building next door to stretch their kitchen and bar space. If the kitchen was the engine, the Frye Building was the turbo boost. And if that’s not enough, in 2023, they opened Myrtle’s Fur Vault and Bar—sounds mysterious, right?—inviting guests into even more swanky Sioux Falls history. Don’t let the elegant wine list fool you; Parker’s is a pioneer just like those quartzite builders, winning national awards and staking its claim in Sioux Falls’ evolution. This place proves you don’t need a time machine to taste history—just a reservation!

Alright, here we are at the CenturyLink Tower, where Sioux Falls dares to touch the sky, one story at a time! Imagine standing in the heart of downtown, with eleven bold stories towering 174 feet above you—proudly holding the title of South Dakota’s tallest building. But trust me, it didn’t always look this sleek. When it was first built, the tower wore a bright white stone facade. Unfortunately, it turned out to be more “crumble and tumble” than “modern marvel.” The poor exterior had to be stripped off, and out came today’s sturdy, glassy look.

Now, close your eyes for a second and imagine standing here in the heart of Sioux Falls, but it’s not just today’s buzz—step back roughly a hundred years. Back then, this corner was the city’s Grand Central Station of commerce. New shops popping up, hotels lighting up with fresh signs, and local businesses shooting for the sky—literally, as early-day skyscrapers like this one started to rise. If you squint, you might almost see the well-dressed bankers and office clerks hurrying inside, feeling proud of the city’s biggest, boldest achievement yet. The Security Bank Building, finished in 1916 after a wartime steel shortage paused construction, was the first steel-framed office building in all of South Dakota! Imagine the awe on opening day in 1917—it was an absolute showstopper. But don’t let that stately Classical Revival look fool you. Underneath the grand limestone face and towering columns, there are some wild, dramatic tales buried in the foundation. The story everyone whispers about happened here on a chilly March morning in 1934. Close your eyes again and listen—. A shiny green Packard pulls up, and out jump six members of the infamous Dillinger Gang, Tommy guns in hand. John Dillinger, Baby Face Nelson—real-life legends, or maybe, villains—right here on Main Avenue, aiming for a juicy payday. Can you hear anxious voices? A teller whispers, “Looks like a holdup car…” while a nervous finger jabs the alarm button. Bam! Four gangsters burst through the doors, two others stay out front, peppering the air with bullets—. Panic erupts inside and out. Policeman Hale Keith tries to sneak up, only to be spotted through the glass. A hail of gunfire from Baby Face Nelson knocks him down, and shouts fill the lobby. The city’s bravest officers rush to help but are taken prisoner so quickly, they find themselves lined up facing the wall—talk about “being caught off guard” at work! And here’s the twist—no one was killed in the chaos, even with dozens of bullets zipping around. Instead, the robbers forced thirty folks to march out ahead of them, a human shield between them and the police. Pregnant with drama, the whole crew piles into that Packard getaway car, five hostages clinging to the running boards, white fingers gripping chrome as the car rolls away from the chaos. People watched in awe. Sure, a few maybe thought, “Well, that was more excitement than a bank statement.” The robbers argued later whether to switch cars, finally ditching the battered Packard and their hostages on the edge of town—everyone shaken, but alive. The city never forgot what happened: gunfire peppered the limestone facade, shattered windows, and a sense that even in the humdrum of banking, trouble could swoop by like a storm. And you know what's wild? The loot—$46,000—was never recovered. Makes you wonder if there’s a Dillinger Gang treasure still hiding somewhere out there. Of course, the Security Bank Building has more to its tale than just a shootout. Over decades, it was at the heart of Sioux Falls’ financial world, merging with other banks, expanding across the state, and changing names more often than some people change socks. But through it all, those giant columns stood firm, keeping watch over downtown.

Now, let’s spin you back to Sioux Falls in 1917. World War I rumbled in the background, but here, a totally different kind of tower was making history! Picture the city buzzing as cranes hoisted steel beams high, and everyone stared upward, jaws dropped. This was the Sioux Falls National Bank—designed by the famed architects Weary & Alford from Chicago, with a couple of Minneapolis builders, Pike & Cook, making sure every brick stayed put. It shot up nine bold stories, making it the tallest building in all of South Dakota. You could say it was the skyscraper that made the rest look short!

Welcome to a real classic—the Eighth Street Bridge! Picture it: Sioux Falls, 1912. The air is thick with the sounds of early automobiles and the steady beat of horses’ hooves as the brand-new bridge opens up, linking S. Eighth Street over the ever-busy Big Sioux River. Built by N.M. Stark and Company, this concrete triple-arch wonder isn’t just a tough cookie—it’s got serious style! If you glance down, you might notice the pointed tips jutting out at the base—those are called cutwaters, capped like tiny wizard hats to keep the piers safe from the river’s currents. And don’t forget the sidewalks running alongside you, bordered by elegant, neoclassical railings and topped off by those proud, fluted lamp stands standing guard, as if lighting the way for travelers of yesterday and today.

Alright, traveler, you’ve just landed in front of the grand old Orpheum Theater, the real star of Sioux Falls—long before cinemas or Netflix, this was where all the drama, laughter, and magic came alive! Close your eyes for a second and picture the year: it’s 1913, the city is bustling, the streets are full of wagons and early automobiles, and construction crews are hammering away to finish this brand-new palace of entertainment. The air smells faintly of fresh marble and sawdust as opening night arrives—October 2, 1913. The Solari Brothers, Frank and Lawrence, are wiping sweat from their brows, having spent $63,200 (a small fortune back then!) to bring the Orpheum to life. You can almost hear the buzz as the velvet ropes are lifted and guests hurry in, coats rustling, up to a thousand people squeezing inside for a taste of the latest vaudeville acts. Did you know they even built a railroad spur right up to the back door? Imagine the clatter of train cars unloading crates of costumes, animal cages, and dazzling stage props, all to make every show an extravaganza. The stage is alive with legends—Jack Benny practicing his jokes backstage, Stan Laurel twirling his cane, and whole families like Eddie Foy and his Seven Little Foys running in circles, children ducking between props. There was so much equipment coming and going, rumor has it, a rogue chicken once made a break for it and tried to join the audience. Talk about dinner theater! The Orpheum changed hands several times, hosting glamorous shows out of Chicago and New York before being bought in 1919 by a snazzy theater company from Minneapolis. The wings on either side of the entrance were alive with all sorts of businesses—tailors, shops, and even apartments up above. It was truly a bustling community hub. But as movies became all the rage, the Orpheum transformed into a cinema in 1927. The silver screen flickered, but the seats gradually emptied. For years, the laughter and applause faded, and the old theater sat quiet, slowly gathering cobwebs. Some said you could almost hear the echoes of applause and whispers backstage, like the walls themselves missed being part of the action. Then, like a show-stopping comeback, the Sioux Falls Community Playhouse burst onto the scene in the 1950s, bringing young actors to tread the boards. Teen Theater and Children’s Theater programs filled the spaces with energy—if you listened closely, you’d hear kids giggling and lines being rehearsed behind thick velvet curtains. The Orpheum was saved, bit by bit, with careful renovation preserving those grand marble walls and tile floors. Bright murals spilled color across the ceilings—some of them original, others restored after decades of hiding beneath peeling paint. By the 1990s and early 2000s, things got dramatic behind the scenes, with dreams of expanding into a giant theater complex nearly overwhelming the Playhouse. Financial troubles loomed, but the city stepped in, buying the Orpheum for $475,000 and a neighboring building for even more to make sure the curtains would rise again.

To spot the Old Minnehaha County Courthouse, look for a massive, castle-like stone building with a towering clock sticking straight up above the main entrance, surrounded by Roman-style arches and green-trimmed windows. Alright, time for the grand tour of downtown’s most rock-solid tale! Imagine the year is 1890, horses clopping down dirt streets, and everyone is talking about this brand-new courthouse made from pink quartzite, freshly quarried right here in Sioux Falls. Architect Wallace L. Dow designed it to look like it could withstand just about anything—storms, scandals, maybe even stampeding buffalo—with huge arched doorways and a clock tower so tall that people probably wondered if it could actually tell the future. For more than seventy years, this place was the nerve center of justice and excitement: lawmen, lawyers, and nervous townsfolk all climbing those creaky stairs and glancing nervously up at the clock before facing the judge. But time ticked on, even for grand old courthouses, and in 1962, the legal business moved elsewhere. Luckily, Sioux Falls has a soft spot for history, so instead of letting it crumble, they turned it into the Old Courthouse Museum. Step inside and you’ll find three floors packed with everything from Native American arts to railroad tales and, believe it or not, an exhibit all about chairs—take a seat and soak in local history! Now a proud spot on the National Register of Historic Places, this iconic building has traded in legal drama for a treasure trove of stories, memories, and maybe a ghostly judge or two still keeping an eye on the time!

To spot the Zip Feed Tower, look straight ahead for a tall, white, rectangular concrete building that seems to be stubbornly leaning but not quite falling, standing solo above the surrounding rubble and equipment. Now, take a moment and let your imagination rewind the clock. It’s 1957, and right where you stand, the Zip Feed Tower rose up to 202 feet, towering over Sioux Falls as the tallest occupiable structure in South Dakota. For decades, this giant helped feed the region, its grain elevators and feed mill humming with the sound of progress. But every legend has its grand finale. Fast forward to December 2005—by now, the mill had closed, and city planners wanted to pave the way for new shiny offices and shops. Cue the demolition team. Picture a chilly morning, workers nervously circling the Zip, planting their charges, double-checking calculations. Someone probably made a joke about “knocking the old guy off his feet.” Here comes the big show—countdown, then boom! But instead of toppling in a blaze of glory, the Zip Feed Tower simply shrugged, slid straight into its own basement, and leaned defiantly to the side as if to say, “Is that all you’ve got?” The crowd gasped, then chuckled. The building was so tough, it took another two weeks of clang, bang, and wrecking ball swings to finish the job. Today, the spot is a reminder that even concrete giants sometimes have the last laugh. And don’t worry—nothing’s going to fall on your head!