The Fall of Wells Fargo: How Minnesota’s Business Climate Killed a Legacy

In the heart of Minneapolis, a city once proud of its industrial and corporate prowess, a significant piece of the city’s legacy has begun to fade into oblivion.

The Wells Fargo Center, standing tall at 57 stories in the downtown skyline, once symbolized the financial strength of the city.

But now, as the building sells for a fraction of its former value, it stands as a grim reminder of what happens when a city and state fail to support the businesses that built them.

Wells Fargo, a name now recognized across the globe, has deep roots in Minnesota.

It all began in 1926, when a parking lot attendant named Russell Gray invented a machine that would change the course of history.

His air-powered grease gun, designed to withstand Minnesota’s harsh winters, led to the founding of Gray Company, which would later become Graco.

And Wells Fargo grew, from its humble beginnings to a $34 billion merger with Norwest in 1998.

Though Wells Fargo moved its headquarters to California, the company maintained a massive presence in Minnesota, employing thousands of people in Minneapolis.

By the 1990s and early 2000s, Wells Fargo was a force to be reckoned with.

It had become one of the largest financial institutions in the country, employing 20,000 people in the state, 18,000 of them in the Twin Cities.

It was the second-largest employer in downtown Minneapolis, and the company had invested heavily in the city.

Mayor RT Ryback even celebrated a $300 million commitment from the company in 2014, building new office towers in downtown east.

It seemed like Minneapolis had won.

They had kept a major employer in the city.

The growth felt inevitable.

But something changed in the years that followed.

As Wells Fargo expanded its operations in the suburbs, particularly in Rogers and Dayton, the shift was subtle at first.

The plant in Rogers, with its 800,000 square feet of manufacturing space, grew exponentially.

Then, in 2021, Wells Fargo purchased 100 acres of land in Dayton to build a massive new 538,000 square-foot facility equipped with solar panels.

The investment was in the suburbs—not in the city.

By 2025, the Minneapolis workforce had shrunk dramatically.

What once boasted 7,000 employees across 14 buildings in downtown was reduced to just 400 employees in two locations.

Wells Fargo was leaving Minneapolis behind.

When Wells Fargo made the announcement in May 2025 that it would close its Minneapolis campus and relocate its headquarters to Dayton or Rogers, the shockwaves were immediate.

City officials were caught off guard.

Eric Hansen, the city’s economic development director, admitted that the decision was “consequential,” but his words rang hollow in the face of this monumental loss.

Minneapolis was losing a company that had been a pillar of the city’s economic success for nearly a century.

What had once been a thriving industrial hub was now a city with fewer and fewer employers and higher unemployment rates.

The Minneapolis city council, for all its efforts, had failed to protect the workers who had made the city great.

Kevin Reich, a former city council member who had represented the area around Graco, saw this coming.

He understood the shift happening in the city and saw the irony in the fact that Minneapolis’ elite had long been focused on green jobs and tech jobs, leaving behind industries that had built the city.

“The urban political elite is focused on green jobs and tech jobs,” Reich said.

“They see manufacturing as harmful to residents.

” This attitude, Reich argued, was what led to the decline of manufacturing jobs in the city, jobs that were essential to the local economy.

The closure of Wells Fargo’s Minneapolis campus wasn’t just a financial loss—it was a symbolic collapse.

The company had $2.

1 billion in sales last year, and its new facilities in Dayton and Rogers were already up and running, creating new jobs, just not in Minneapolis.

The company’s executives had made a simple calculation: the costs of running operations in Minnesota—where the corporate tax rate is the highest in the nation at 9.

8%—were no longer worth it.

The state had made it too expensive to stay, and Wells Fargo—like countless other companies before it—had followed the money.

Minnesota’s corporate tax rate is the highest in the country, and it has been for years.

When New Jersey’s temporary tax surcharge expired, Minnesota took over the top spot.

The Tax Foundation ranked Minnesota 44th out of 50 states for business tax climate, and 47th for corporate taxes.

In 2023, despite an $18 billion budget surplus, the Minnesota legislature decided to raise taxes by nearly $10 billion over four years.

The state made itself even less competitive for businesses.

Meanwhile, Iowa was cutting its corporate tax rate from 12% to 5.

5%, and other states like Tennessee and Florida were doing everything they could to attract businesses with tax cuts and incentives.

Wells Fargo had made its decision, and the result was undeniable.

Minneapolis had lost a historic institution.

The company had invested $300 million in the city, and now, it was abandoning it.

The 57-story Wells Fargo Center, the city’s third-tallest building, stood as a grim monument to this loss.

In 2019, the building had sold for $314 million.

By 2024, the county assessed its value at $174 million—a $140 million drop in just five years.

In December 2024, it was sold again, this time for just $85 million—a staggering 70% decline in value.

The building, once a symbol of success, was now a symbol of decline, sitting 38% vacant, with over a third of its space left empty.

The question that looms large is simple: Why would any company want to expand in Minnesota? The answer is clear.

With the highest corporate tax rate in the country, a state government that seems more focused on social programs than economic growth, and no regard for the manufacturing jobs that once made Minneapolis a powerhouse, businesses are choosing to leave.

The Minneapolis City Council, focused on housing developments and green jobs, failed to see that manufacturing—jobs that don’t require fancy degrees and that serve the working class—was vital to the city’s economic health.

Wells Fargo wasn’t the only company to leave.

Target, Honeywell, and 3M have all scaled back operations or relocated to other states.

The trend is undeniable, and the numbers are there.

Between 2020 and 2024, Minnesota lost 48,000 residents—a signal that people are voting with their feet.

As businesses pack up and leave, Minnesota continues to impose taxes that make it even harder for companies to survive.

In the end, the workers of Minneapolis were the ones left holding the bag.

The 400 employees who once worked at the Wells Fargo Center now have to face an uncertain future.

Many will have to find work elsewhere, some will leave the state altogether, and others will be forced into lower-paying jobs.

The ripple effect of Wells Fargo’s decision has already been felt.

Local businesses are seeing a decline in customers, and the city itself is shrinking, both in size and in influence.

Graco, once an icon of American industry, is now a relic of what Minneapolis used to be—a thriving city where businesses were supported and nurtured, not driven out.

Now, Graco has made the same decision Wells Fargo did.

They’ve gone, and with them, they’ve taken the jobs, the tax revenue, and the soul of the community.

The city is left to pick up the pieces, but it’s clear that the foundation has been cracked.

Minneapolis built its reputation on the backs of its workers, its factories, and its companies.

Now, that foundation is crumbling.

The city government and state lawmakers failed to protect the very industries that once made it strong.

The jobs that used to pay the bills and allow families to thrive are disappearing.

And Wells Fargo, a company that had been a part of the city for nearly 100 years, is now a symbol of what happens when you take businesses for granted.

This is the cost of Minnesota’s political decisions—the price of high taxes, regulations, and an economy that fails to support its core industries.

Wells Fargo made its choice, and it’s a choice that Minneapolis will have to live with for years to come.

The city will rebuild, but it will never be the same.

The workers who were once at the heart of Minneapolis have been abandoned.

And as for Graco, Polaris, and the others, they’ve already moved on.

The question is: Will Minneapolis ever learn from its mistakes, or will it continue down the path of decline? The answer may already be in the rearview mirror.