Bank of the West

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. One foggy morning, as a delivery driver approached the Bank of the West, he swore he heard an old-timey banjo tune playing from inside the vault. Nobody else seemed to notice, but ever since then, locals claim they can sometimes hear that same jaunty melody on quiet days. As time went on, more and more people started hearing the banjo—even when no one was around. One day, a regular customer asked the teller if they could buy some banjos for their grandkids. The teller replied, ‘We don’t sell instruments here, ma’am.’ To which she responded, ‘Then why does it sound like you do?’ And everyone laughed, including the poor confused teller.

2. In the early afternoon, a little girl walked into her grandmother’s house with wide eyes and whispered, ‘Grandma, there’s a man in the Bank of the West talking to himself and counting money!’ Grandma looked up from her knitting and smiled, saying, ‘Honey, that’s just Mr. Jenkins from accounting—he does that every Tuesday.’ The little girl nodded thoughtfully, then ran outside to play, leaving Grandma to wonder if maybe she should mention it to the next delivery driver.

3. At closing time, a small dog rushed into the Bank of the West lobby, its tail wagging furiously. The guard looked puzzled but didn't chase after it. Instead, everyone watched as the dog trotted straight to an empty safety deposit box and began frantically scratching at the door. Finally, the dog stopped scratching and sat back, panting happily. The guard opened the box, revealing a pile of old newspapers and a note that read: 'Forgot my lunch again.' A regular nodded knowingly, saying, ‘Must be lucky Thursday for him.’

4. One day, while loading boxes into the Bank of the West, a delivery driver noticed something peculiar in one of the crates—a tiny violin wrapped in old newspapers. As he unwrapped it, an ancient tune wafted through the air—so beautiful that everyone in the bank stopped what they were doing. Turns out, it was just an old neighbor who’d accidentally packed his prized instrument with the boxes. The violin played every Tuesday afternoon from then on, bringing joy to everyone in town.