Feb. 2, 2025
If central casting were holding open auditions for the role of big-time real estate developer, I’m not sure Craig Lloyd would have walked in and landed the part like he was typecast for it.
I suspect the director’s reaction might have been similar to the craps dealer in Las Vegas who, after watching Lloyd lose $20 at the table, looked at his daughter Christie Ernst and said, “He doesn’t have much of a risk tolerance, does he?”
If only they knew.
If only they knew about the time when Lloyd sat, hours from the bank calling a note due, as he happened to be across a cocktail table from a business owner who would agree before the night was over to buy a property from him for the exact amount needed to satisfy the lender.
If only they could have watched the banker the following day study a bar napkin while calling to verify the signature on it.
Looks can be deceiving. Being underestimated can be an advantage. And when you’re really good at something, and doing it for the right reasons, success tends to follow.
“Pigs get fat. Hogs get slaughtered,” Lloyd told me and many others multiple times.
The business world has its share of hogs whose ultimate measure of success is the net worth of the person in the mirror. It has its share of those who can’t be trusted. And of those who overpromise and underdeliver.
It doesn’t have enough Craig Lloyds. People whose handshakes really are as good as a contract. People who own their errors and don’t bash their competitors. People who see compromise as a win, not a weakness, and give charitably “more than I had any business giving,” as he put it to me.
Meet with the biggest real estate developer in other communities and it’s possible you’ll need to reserve two chairs — one to accommodate their ego. If you were ever in a meeting with Lloyd, you know he’d be more likely to remain standing until everyone else had found a seat.
I don’t think it was a coincidence that the day Lloyd passed away, as I worked on tribute pieces for him, I stopped for an hour because I’d agreed to speak to the Sioux Falls Young Professionals Network.
I think the idea was to share a bit of my journey in Sioux Falls combined with whatever insight I could offer on our business community for them.
But before we got to that, I told them, you need to understand the story of Craig Lloyd because in that you’ll find my story and our collective Sioux Falls story.
You need to know that when he and his wife, Pat, moved here in 1972, they lived in the affordable housing community they ran for Craig’s uncle and built houses on nights and weekends.
You need to know that they weren’t from here, didn’t know anyone when they came here, and that half a century later, the company they built created the places where you’ve likely lived, worked, shopped or dined. The places that have made you excited to be here and convinced you to stay here. And it’s because that’s possible in Sioux Falls. It’s possible no matter who you are or where you came from to build a successful business here, in any industry, if you work hard and build the trust that leads to strong relationships.
“Who here has heard of Steve Metli?” I asked to uncomfortable silence in the room of about 30 young professionals, while about five raised their hands.
It’s OK, I told them. Let me keep telling the story.
You need to know that back in the 1970s and ’80s, he was our city planning director and that he and Craig Lloyd would pack peanut butter sandwiches and walk along the Falls, picking up trash while envisioning what the area could become. And that it only became the place you like to spend time today because they and others stepped up, cleaned it up and invested in a big way.
As I reflected on Lloyd throughout the past week, it became clear why maybe that happened.
Lloyd was diagnosed with dyslexia and severe visual impairment as a young child. While his mother worked intensely hard and creatively to help him learn to read and write, he’d never be a standout student.
When I interviewed him almost 10 years ago, as he prepared to transition the role of CEO to his nephew Chris Thorkelson, he shared this comment a high school guidance counselor had made to him as a teenager:
“This counselor told me, ‘Lloyd, I don’t know if you’ll ever make it through high school. And if you do, I don’t know if you’ll ever make it through college. And if you never make it out of college, you’ll never amount to anything.’”
Pat would later tell him it probably was the best thing that could have happened, “knowing my personality,” he told me. “Most people understand you can tell me no, but it’s not a good thing to tell me because I don’t listen very well.”
As I thought about it, I also thought about the Sioux Falls he would have moved to in 1972. It was a town of just over 70,000 people that turned to gravel roads around 41st Street. Employment was dominated by John Morrell. The Empire Mall hadn’t opened yet.
It might have been easy for someone to look at the city, as they looked at Lloyd, and wonder if it would ever amount to much.
But he refused to let that counselor define him. And time after time, he took on properties in Sioux Falls nobody else wanted to tackle because he knew they — and the city — could amount to so much more than how they appeared.
It was the same with people. There are so many people who could say Lloyd took a chance on them — on renting to them, on hiring them, on doing business with them, on financially supporting them. I think he chose to see the possibilities instead of the potential pitfalls.
For the coming days, the Arc of Dreams will be lit green in honor of Lloyd in his company’s signature color. Stop by if you’re so inclined — and pay particular attention to the gap in the center, which represents the leap of faith it takes to see a dream come true.
This week, there will be chances to honor and celebrate Lloyd and his achievements. And, thanks to this acceptance video I found of him when he became part of the South Dakota Hall of Fame, I feel confident there are some things he’d want shared.
The first is what he said about his wife, Pat.
“She deserves every bit of the glory that I’m getting,” he said. “She’s as much a part of our success at Lloyd Cos. as anybody else.”
Anytime the occasion arose, he would remind me that he’s not the founder of Lloyd Cos. He’s the co-founder. As you honor Lloyd’s achievements, he’d remind you he was one piece of a bigger effort.
And then if he could leave us with any advice, I think he’d revisit the quote from the Bible, in the Gospel of Luke, that he’d stumbled on accidentally shortly before giving his speech:
“To whom much is given, much is required. And when someone has been entrusted with much, even more will be required.”
By being given the chance to live in Sioux Falls, he would tell us, we have been given much. And it’s our job to give much back — to bring our ideas, to invest our time and resources and to do it all with the mentality that if it’s good for the community, it’s going to be good for us.
Craig Lloyd was so good to us, and for us. I can only imagine the development he’ll build in heaven.
Memorial arrangements announced for Craig Lloyd as friends, colleagues reflect on his impact
