The Sioux Falls Bank Robbery of 1933

[Mason Andrews]

It was just past 10:00 am on Monday July 17th, 26th street had been relatively quiet for a Monday even in the midst of a national depression. A few customers strolled into the National bank, a magnificently decadent building clad with marble walls and floors adorned with gilded railings standing in defiance of the times and blatant fuck you to people of the town who had been hard by the depression caused by the greed of the people who ran institutions like these. The bank while a necessity in any town was mostly despised by the residents of Sioux Falls, since the crash approving a mere eighty dollar loan to get supplies to repair a rapidly deteriorating barn wall was like pooling teeth from the greedy elite. Getting loans was far from the only problem, those who did get loans or had to mortgage their farms just to get by faced foreclosure after missing only a single payment. The bank was quick to snatch up the real estate and sell it off to turn a quick profit with the help of the Sherriff, a one T. F. Gregson, Wagner. Sherriff Wagner was a career man who cared little for the people of the town and more for the fine luxuries that had been provided to him by being on the payroll of the bank under the table of course. While most of the farmers that he helped the bank foreclosed on lacked running water in their home, Sherriff Wagner not only had it, also had a shiny new Blue Ford Model A with 40 horses under the hood. He was the envy of most every man who could barely provide for his family and despised even more than the President of the bank.

So at 10:13am when a Black 1930 Chevrolet Universal rolled up outside the bank and parked just a bit east of the front door of the bank, not too many people paid the four men inside much mind. Their car was noticeable, but the townspeople had bigger things on their mind than a nice car pulling up to the bank. LeRoy Hobbs, Calvin Jackson, John Davis, and Mickey O'Reilly, some of the most famous and wanted men in America watched the door to the bank and took note of the crowds on the street. Calvin or "Cal" was their leader, his steely cold features and strikingly good looks had landed him on the front page of nearly every major paper in the country, he had become folk hero of sorts. Stories spread of him being a modern day Robin Hood, but the fact was he loved the adrenaline rush of taking a bank for all it was worth in less than two minutes then storming off in their automobile to find a friendly place to hide out. Those who harbored him were often local farmers who had lost everything to the banks in the crash. He of course paid them handsomely often times giving them at least five hundred dollars for the hospitality and of course their amnesia if the authorities ever came knocking. Five hundred dollars, a massive some of money when the average farmer only made around nine hundred dollars a year.

Cal looked to his men, all smartly dressed in suits with long coats hiding their deadly arsenal and gave the signal. The doors of the car opened and the men stepped out of the vehicle in unison, Cal swung a Thompson submachine gun under his coat and a had a colt 1911 in his right hand. Mickey and John carried the same weaponry and LeRoy had a browning Automatic rifle or "BAR" as he stood guard between the car and the bank door. Cal, John and Mickey walked swiftly into the bank, their footsteps fell heavy and echoed in the massive Cathedral of greed as they approached the counter, the tellers behind steel bars. Before anyone had paid too much attention to the strangers, they drew their weapons and Cal yelled.

"EVERYBODY STAY CALM THIS WILL ONLY TAKE A MOMENT!"

Cal spotted the president of the bank and pointed his pistol at his head while Mickey worked on crowd control and John produced two sacks. Cal looked coldly into the eyes of the bank President whom he had no qualms about shooting.

"Alright Mr. President I got a job for you, you gonna open that safe for me and fill these sacks that Johnny boy has over here."

The president a cowardly looking man with gold rimmed glasses nodded silently, fearing for his life. He wore a black pin stripe suit and as Cal's gloved hand that held the pistol that would deliver the bullet to end his life if he refused to cooperate, he felt a warm liquid running down his legs as his true character showed itself in the midst of a crisis. The weasel of man put raised his hands, his face turning bright red as he moved quickly to the vault and knelt down over the safe. He tried to stall and pretended fumble with the spin dial on the lock. Cal was having none of it, he took the pistol and pressed the muzzle of the 1911 against the banker's skull.

"This worth your life? Get it open now."

What was striking about the tone of Cal's voice was how calm he was, the sincerity was clear in his voice and the President soon realized he'd rather have an empty safe than a full one with his brains splattered all over the front of it. A few turns and he opened it quickly and emptied the contents of it into the bags that John had thrown him. The President stood up and handed the bags over John who had holstered his pistol in his belt and Cal followed suit.

"You're coming with us Mr. President, bit of an insurance policy. I'm sure you understand."

Mickey winked at the teller, a beautiful brunette who absolutely noticed the moment he had stepped into the bank.

"Look me up sometime sweetheart."

He said and smiled at her before turning to the other two men. He helped John with the money so Cal could focus on their hostage. As they backed towards the door swiftly the alarm bell finally rang.

"Thank you for your hospitality folks, now we must hit that dusty ole trail. Don't worry folks, we took the banks money not yours."

A simple truth, since President Roosevelt founded the FDIC only a month prior, the people's money was protected by the federal government, so unless anyone did something stupid in the next few seconds, the only people hurt were not exactly people, but the bank itself.

Outside LeRoy had ushered away a few pedestrians with a cold smile that told them all they needed to know. He was not worried about them, but when the alarm bell rang and moments later a deputy ran towards across the street towards him as the bank doors opened, LeRoy's coat flew open as he brought his massive BAR to his shoulder and opened fire on the deputy, onlookers in the street scattered and found cover as quickly as the could from the thirty caliber bullets flying through the air. The first shot struck the deputy in the upper arm and the second in his shin and he fell to the ground and was no longer a threat. In the distance, they heard sheriff Wagner's Model A's engine revving towards them, as he raced to protect the only thing he cared about, his money.

The four men shuffled towards the car swiftly as the Model A came into view and the hog of a man behind the wheel stuck his revolver out the window and opened fire on Cal, the first shot whizzed by his head, so he shoved the bank president out in front of him and the second shot hit the cowardly man in the belly and he fell to the floor. As the car screeched to a halt, Sherriff Wagner's eyes widened in horror as he had just literally bit the hand that fed him.

"You sonsa bitches!"

Wagner yelled as the men jumped into the car, this time LeRoy taking the wheel, the car sprang to life and LeRoy shoved it into first and floored the pedal, the Chevy Universal came with a stock fifty horses under the hood, but LeRoy doubled as a mechanic and he had done some "tinkerin" as he called it this particular automobile and added another ten horses, making this vehicle even fully loaded with the four of them, their guns and the $48,900 they had taken much faster than Sherriff Wagner's Ford. LeRoy made his way through the gears as Sherriff Wagner fired at them as they sped away, Cal leaned out the window with his Thompson and opened up on the Sherriff. The massive forty five caliber bullets spraying the area, several of them impacting the front of the blue Ford, a few flying threw the windscreen. A lucky few found the radiator and steam quickly clouded Wagner's vision as he lost control and slammed his crippled Ford into a street lamp. Bloodied and bruised the Sherriff limped out of the vehicle, fell to the ground and fired his last two shots in vain at the black Chevy as it sped away.

Cal smirked at the scene as he pulled himself back into his seat and the men sped off into history, but more importantly transforming them into legends who will never die.