Security Bank Building

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.